Читать книгу Wedlocked?! - Pamela Toth - Страница 11

“You aren’t going to prison,” Cole Cassidy promised the woman seated across the table from him. Even though their relationship had recently become strained, Lily was still his mother. “I’ll do everything I can to clear you.”

Lily abandoned her surveillance of the restaurant’s entry long enough to glance at Cole. The pressure of the last few weeks had left shadows beneath her dark eyes, but she was still a beautiful woman.

“You believe that I didn’t murder Sophia Fortune, don’t you?” she asked, an uncharacteristic quaver in her husky voice. “I swear I’m telling the truth.”

Cole leaned forward and squeezed her hand. It was icy cold. “I know you’re innocent,” he replied. “You don’t have to convince me.”

“The prisons are full of innocent people.” Her fingers shifted restlessly as she waited for the arrival of her fiancé, Ryan Fortune. He was bringing with him the private investigator he’d hired to dig up enough evidence to clear Lily of the murder charge for which she was out on bail.

Cole wanted to reassure his mother, to tell her he knew she would never lie to him. Yet she had lied—repeatedly—by omission, and that knowledge stood between them like an elephant both were pretending they couldn’t see.

Before he could think of something to say about her honesty that wouldn’t reek of irony, Lily’s attention was diverted. Recognition hummed through the room as her fiancé, the head of the Fortune empire and owner of the Double Crown Ranch, stopped in the entryway. As soon as he spotted Lily, his weathered face relaxed into a smile. Then, as Cole got to his feet, Ryan leaned down and spoke to the woman at his side.

As the two of them came toward Cole’s table, identification and disbelief double-teamed him, driving the air from his chest like a one–two punch to the gut.

Lily glanced up. “Is something wrong?”

Her voice was nearly drowned out by the sudden roaring in Cole’s ears. It couldn’t be—and yet it was. The riot of brown curls, the heart-shaped face and those wide, kissable lips—the image was seared into his memory like the scar from a red-hot branding iron.

The woman with Ryan was Annie Jones, the same woman Cole had left behind six years before when he’d moved to Denver.

The moment Annie recognized the tall, dark-haired man waiting for Ryan, an icy hand squeezed her heart with painful ferocity. Pride was all that kept her from stopping dead in her tracks.

Ryan must have sensed her hesitation as he led her to the table. “Lily and her son make a handsome pair, don’t they?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he leaned over to give the woman with Cole Cassidy a quick kiss on her upturned mouth.

If the man who’d hired Annie had been anyone else in the Lone Star state, no matter how wealthy, powerful or well-connected, she would have ditched the case and walked away. Unfortunately, she owed Ryan Fortune far too much to even consider letting him down. Since quitting wasn’t an option, she straightened her spine, curved her mouth into a cool smile and did her best to mask the turmoil scrambling her insides like a butter churn.

“Hello, Cole,” she said before Ryan could begin the introductions. “How have you been?” For good measure, Annie extended her hand.

If her calm demeanor surprised him, Annie’s former lover gave no sign except a slight narrowing of his piercing blue eyes—eyes that had once burned with an intense yet shallow desire Annie had briefly mistaken for love.

It was a mistake she hadn’t made since.

After a pause so slight that she might have imagined it, Cole enfolded her hand in his. She felt his touch all the way to the heart she would have sworn had turned to stone after he’d walked out on her. Before she could even begin to absorb the heat and strength of his grip, he released her. His expression was somber, without even the hint of a smile, and he met her generic greeting with silence.

“You already know each other?” Ryan asked.

His tone made Annie curious, and she filed it away for future analysis. Right now she was too busy dealing with a situation she had both dreaded and fantasized about—meeting Cole again. “We haven’t seen each other for years,” she told Ryan with a bland smile before she shifted her attention to the woman seated at the table.

“You must be Lily. Ryan’s told me about you.” Although Cole had mentioned his mother to her frequently during their former association, the two women had never met. Annie had no idea Cole’s mother and Ryan’s fiancée were one and the same.

Silently, Annie congratulated herself on the steadiness of her own voice, and hoped the heat searing her cheeks didn’t glow like Rudolph’s nose. Determined that Cole glimpse not a hint of her inner agitation, she concentrated instead on the older woman studying her with a thoughtful expression.

Lily Cassidy had the dark hair and compelling looks that were a legacy of the Spanish and Apache heritage she shared with her son. No wonder Ryan Fortune had been willing to endure an expensive and very public divorce from the woman Lily now stood accused of murdering. Ryan’s intended was still as striking as her son was handsome.

Too bad the last six years had been so kind to Cole as well. Annie would have taken some small measure of satisfaction in seeing that his hairline had receded, his waist had expanded or the clean line of his jaw had begun to blur. Instead he’d grown more attractive since the day he had walked away from her without a backward glance. Had some other woman managed to do what Annie had not—capture his heart and his name?

Sometimes life just wasn’t fair, Annie thought, and then she recalled why she was here. Cole’s mother had been accused of murder. Her life wasn’t all fun and games. Neither, obviously, was Cole’s.

“Ryan speaks highly of you,” Lily said. “Please won’t you sit down?”

Deliberately Annie ignored the chair Cole pulled out, choosing instead the one on Lily’s other side. The strain of the last few weeks was evident in her expression, but there was warmth in her eyes, and barely visible laugh lines framing her mouth.

Annie was no Mary Poppins. She’d been a cop and she’d seen the worst in people. Appearances were often deceiving, yet she felt a burst of empathy toward Cole’s mother. Annie knew what it was like to be wrongly accused. Whether her empathy with Lily was misplaced remained to be seen.

“How well did you and Cole know each other?” Ryan asked, taking the fourth chair across the table.

A waiter handed Annie a menu, which she immediately opened. “Not well at all,” she said dismissively.

Lily looked at her son. Apparently she had a mother’s keen awareness when it came to undercurrents. “Cole?” she asked.

“We lost touch when I moved to Denver,” he said in a tone that didn’t invite more questions. He had taken refuge in his own menu and his expression was grim. Unfortunately for Annie, the slight frown did nothing to mar his attractiveness. Nor her own response to him—one that up until a few minutes before she would have sworn she’d managed to put far, far behind her. How disgustingly pathetic to feel such tingling awareness of the rat who had accepted her guilt when she’d so desperately needed him, of all people, to believe in her innocence.

Just like he wanted her to believe in his mother’s innocence now. The irony of the situation made Annie blink, and then she realized that all three of her companions were staring at her expectantly.

“Excuse me?” she asked, fresh heat bathing her cheeks.

Cole’s frown deepened. “I was just asking Ryan why he’d chosen you to investigate my mother’s case. You’re young and relatively inexperienced. There are plenty more seasoned P.I.’s in San Antonio.” How like an attorney to grab the offensive.

“And I was about to explain to Cole that age doesn’t necessarily indicate ability. Annie’s bright, sharp and aggressive. When it comes to clearing the woman I love, I want the very best available on our team.” Ryan reached across the table to clasp Lily’s outstretched hand. To Annie’s surprise, fresh tears sprang to the other woman’s dark eyes.

“Thank you, my love.” Her voice vibrated with emotion.

Pain sliced through Annie as she glanced away from the mutual trust and affection the brief exchange revealed. It was obvious that Ryan’s belief in Lily’s innocence was total. If only Cole could have been as sure of Annie’s years before.

For a moment, her gaze collided with his and she wondered if he could read her thoughts. A muscle ticked in his cheek, but he didn’t look away this time. It was Annie who finally raised her brows and managed to break the deadlock as the waiter approached. Her heart was racing. In the few moments it took the man to gather their orders, she was able to regain her poise and put the painful memories where they belonged.

Despite the lurid coverage of the tabloid press, the circumstances of Sophia Fortune’s murder left plenty of room for speculation. Smothering someone with a pillow was a very up-close and personal crime, not like shooting the victim from several yards away. Annie wondered if the woman seated across from her was capable of that kind of in-your-face violence. The case would be a fascinating one to investigate.

“What makes you think Ms. Jones is the best investigator available?” Cole asked Ryan.

Annie had no intention of losing this opportunity just because her presence made him uncomfortable. As his mother’s attorney, Cole would have to work with her on the investigation. If he wanted her fired, he was going to have to admit to Ryan, and his mother, why.

Before Annie could open her mouth, though, the waiter brought the iced teas they had all ordered. As he retreated, Ryan spoke directly to Cole. He must have sensed that the son would be a harder sell than the mother.

“Living in Denver, you may not be aware of the solid reputation Annie’s built for herself all through this part of Texas,” Ryan said. “I guess it must have been after your move that she left the police department, despite the protests of her superior officers, and opened her own agency.”

Surprise flickered across Cole’s face. Apparently he’d never bothered to find out the outcome of the charges filed against her within the department. This fresh evidence of his indifference to her fate hurt like hell.

“Since then she’s done some brilliant work on several difficult, high-profile cases.” Ryan turned his attention to Lily. “Honey, believe me, if anyone can give Cole the strongest ammunition to get you an acquittal, Annie can.”

Annie felt like squirming with embarrassment in the face of Ryan’s testimonial. Granted, she’d worked damn hard after her tattered reputation had been restored and she’d left the department. She’d still had a lot to prove—to her late father and to the people who had believed she’d disgraced both his memory and the badge he’d worn with pride. Case by difficult case, she’d earned her reputation and the hefty fees she now charged. Even so, Ryan’s wholesale endorsement made her uncomfortable. What if this time—when it mattered to him the most—she failed?

Lily took a sip of her iced tea and turned to look at Annie. “I suppose you know about the charges against me?”

Annie nodded. Anyone who hadn’t been lost in the wilderness knew Lily’s story. Since Ryan’s phone call, Annie had boned up on the case.

“Let me see if I’ve got it right,” she replied, deliberately pulling no punches. “The police think you killed Sophia because her refusal to give Ryan a divorce was preventing you from bagging one of the wealthiest men in the state.” She ignored Ryan’s gasp. “You had means, opportunity and motive, since you just happened to be staying at her hotel in Austin on the night in question. You told the police you hadn’t been in her suite, but they found your bracelet on the floor by her body. They say the two of you quarreled and you held a pillow over her face until she was dead.”

During Annie’s recital, Lily had paled, but she seemed to draw strength from Ryan. Her chin went up. “I didn’t do it. I could never take another person’s life.” Her gaze held Annie’s without wavering. “Do you believe me?”

Annie noticed that Cole had shifted closer to his mother as if to protect her. Where had all that loving support been when she’d needed it? “I don’t have to believe you to do my job,” she told Lily.

Angrily Cole slapped his hand on the table, making them jump. He had no intention of sitting quietly while this hotshot P.I. tried and convicted his mother of murder right here in the restaurant. Annie’s bald recital of both the facts and speculation surrounding the case had just handed him a concrete excuse to refuse to work with her on the investigation.

“I’ve heard enough,” he told Ryan, confident the older man would agree with him. “We’ll have to find someone else.”

To his surprise, his mother gripped his arm. “No, dear, I don’t think so.”

Cole knew that tone. Underneath the soft drawl lay pure steel. Still he argued. “You need someone who knows you’re innocent.”

She shook her head, a rueful smile curving her lips. “I have you and Ryan for that,” she said huskily. Then she looked right at Annie. “Miss Jones, I need a fighter on my side. I’d like you to take my case. If Ryan says you’re good, that’s enough for me.”

Cole’s automatic protest died in his throat. Under the circumstances, surely Annie would refuse.

Instead she smiled. Despite his annoyance, Cole felt his nerves leap in reaction. Working with her would be insane—just one of several reasons why she had no business on this case, but the one he could never verbalize. And what about the resentment she might still feel toward him over the past? What better revenge than standing by and watching his mother go to prison? Could the Annie he’d known have turned into the kind of person who would let something that evil happen—even contribute to it? Could he risk the possibility?

Before he could bring up his other objections, the waiter was back with their food. Grimly, Cole realized he might have better luck discussing the situation with Ryan and his mother later, away from Annie’s troubling presence.

As Ryan turned the conversation away from the case, Cole concentrated on his lobster salad and tried to resist sneaking peeks at the woman seated across from him, the thick brown hair he remembered so well pulled into a high ponytail that made her look younger than her twenty-nine years. He didn’t know which of the emotions churning through him was more disturbing—his guilt over the way he’d handled their breakup, the renewed attraction to her that threatened his focus now, or the certainty that being thrown together on this case would be a disaster not only for him but also for his mother, whose very life was on the line.

“I can take a cab,” Annie said, wanting nothing more than to get away from Cole long enough to catch her breath and beat her overactive hormones back into submission. Not that she was the least bit interested in him—she’d learned her lesson there—but a woman could admire a man on a strictly physical level as long as it didn’t interfere with the work at hand.

“Nonsense,” Ryan replied with the breezy confidence of the super-rich. “The ranch is in the opposite direction from your office, and Lily needs to rest. But Cole can drop you off.” His arm was curved protectively around Lily’s shoulders. “It will afford the two of you a chance to map out your strategy.”

Even Annie couldn’t argue with that. It was time to put aside her personal feelings toward her new client’s son and get busy. They had barely a month until the trial, and there was a lot to be done.

She glanced at Cole, who was watching her with an unreadable expression on his sharply chiseled face. Did he never relax these days? She remembered that he had a killer smile. The unfortunate memory jarred her back to reality.

“Good idea,” she agreed with a hint of challenge in her voice. “If you have time to get started right away, so do I.”

The flicker of surprise in Cole’s eyes was more than enough reward for her capitulation. “My mother’s out on bail,” he drawled. “I don’t have a lot else on my calendar right now.”

Moments later, the two couples had split up, the older pair heading for the car Ryan’s driver had brought around to the front door of the restaurant. Meanwhile, Cole led the way to the lot behind the building where his rental was parked. If his back were any straighter, Annie might have suspected his tailor had sewed a metal rod in his jacket.

“So how have you been?” she asked, striving for a light tone, after he’d joined her in the confines of his white Lexus. The interior reeked of leather and wealth. Her ancient Volkswagen smelled like pine cleaner, courtesy of a dangling piece of cardboard shaped like an evergreen tree.

She refused to analyze why it was important that he see how easily she was handling his sudden reappearance in her life. She just knew she wanted to get the preliminaries out of the way so they could concentrate on the case.

Cole backed the car out of its parking spot and headed toward the street. “I’ve been fine,” he said as he eased into a break in traffic. “I don’t know if you’d heard that I moved to Denver after—”

“I heard,” she blurted, and then could have bitten off her tongue for her unguarded response. He’d probably think she’d tracked him like a spurned lover who didn’t know when to let go. She couldn’t remember who had told her, but she damn well couldn’t explain that she hadn’t sought out the information, not without looking ridiculous. This was going to be more difficult than she’d realized.

The light turned red, and Cole took the opportunity to really look at her. Nearly hidden by her air of self-confidence and the solid reputation Ryan had described lurked a freshness that was downright amazing. Life had handed her lemons and from them she’d made a blue-ribbon pie. When he recalled how thoroughly he’d misjudged her, he wanted to turn back the clock and rewrite history.

“Look,” he said instead as the light changed and the cars in front of him began to move, “we probably need to clear the air. Can we wait to discuss our history together until we get to your office before I rear-end someone?”

He sensed her sudden tension. Maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she would like him to think, or maybe it was just resentment that had her hands tightening on her patchwork leather bag. Again he wondered how far she might go to avenge herself. Would she punish an innocent woman? Damage her own reputation as an investigator? He had to admit the possibility was pretty far-fetched—and damn egotistical of him.

“There’s really nothing to discuss,” she said in a voice that had plunged several degrees in temperature despite the heat of the October day. “At least nothing of a personal nature. We have a lot of ground to cover for your mother’s case. I suggest we focus on the present and forget ancient history.”

“If that’s the way you want it,” Cole muttered, swerving and hitting his horn when a car in the next lane cut them off. The other driver didn’t appear to notice.

For the next few moments, Cole’s attention was divided between the directions she gave him and speculation about what she must really be feeling. The former was straightforward enough; her expression yielded no clues to the latter. Finally they turned into a small strip mall and he stopped the car beside a faded blue bug with a hot-pink windsock attached to its antenna.

In front of them was a rather plain storefront with simple black lettering on the glass door. Annie Jones, Private Investigator, it read, followed by a local phone number. Her office was flanked by a dry cleaner on one side and a hobby shop on the other. Its grimy window was filled with a stack of faded cardboard boxes, the type plastic model kits come in, and dead flies. Neither business bordering hers looked especially prosperous.

Cole was trying to think of a comment—something neutral—when Annie got out of the car without a word and unlocked the front door of her office.

“Coming?” she demanded when he made no move to follow her.

Flushing, he grabbed his briefcase from behind the seat, locked the rental carefully and went inside. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but not the comfortable clutter that greeted him. With painful clarity, he pictured the tiny, cheerful apartment she’d had before—shabby, eclectic and welcoming. In some ways, Annie hadn’t changed.

“Have a seat,” she told him as she grabbed a stack of manila folders from a chair facing a scarred metal desk, and dumped them on top of a file cabinet. “I’ll just be a minute.” Sitting down behind the desk, she picked up the phone.

While she checked her voice mail, Cole cleared a spot in front of him for his briefcase and took the opportunity to look around. Modern computer equipment shared space with battered file cabinets and crammed bookcases. On the one bare wall were several framed citations. Cole figured he’d better wait to examine them more closely. On another wall was a calendar still turned to the month before. On the counter were two dirty coffee cups and an apothecary jar filled with lemon drops. Annie might be as organized as a surgical team, but neatness wasn’t any more of a priority now than it had ever been.

Cole wondered if he could work in the midst of such clutter. The top of his own desk in Denver was always bare except for his current project. His files and baskets were color-coordinated, his books shelved according to subject and cataloged on his computer.

Now he looked at the self-stick notes dotting the side of the computer monitor and sighed.

The closing of a drawer drew his attention back to the woman seated across from him. She’d taken out a yellow legal pad and uncapped a cheap pen.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” she said, her gaze boring into him as though she were about to interview a suspect. “Tell me everything you know about the case.”

For the first time in a long while, Annie could find no peace, no relaxation in the condominium she’d taken such pleasure in decorating the year before. Even her cat, rescued from a shelter to become Annie’s number one fan, failed to distract her from her thoughts tonight. It had been a long afternoon, going over the facts of Lily Cassidy’s case with Cole and planning her strategy to poke holes in the state’s theory of how and why the crime had been committed. All they needed for an acquittal was reasonable doubt.

“Not now, Sluggo,” Annie murmured distractedly when the cat jumped into her lap and began butting his wide head against her hand. Gently she deposited him back on the carpeted floor, barely aware of his sharp meow of protest. Devoted he might be, but the big orange tabby was also unused to being ignored. Annie knew she’d have to placate him later for the slight she’d dealt his pride.

No matter. There were too many thoughts chasing each other around in her head for her to be able to focus on her cat, the Celine Dion CD she’d put on her stereo, or the glass of Merlot she’d poured herself when she’d first gotten home.

It was obvious that Cole didn’t want her on the case, and just as obvious that both his mother and Ryan did. For the last reason, and because Annie knew what it was like to be wrongly accused, she’d ignored Cole’s lack of enthusiasm toward her over lunch and accepted the assignment. She hoped that neither she nor Lily Cassidy would live to regret it.

With a sigh, Annie opened the denim tote she used in lieu of a briefcase and removed the notes she’d made that afternoon. Once they’d gotten started, she and Cole had covered a lot of ground. His memory for detail was phenomenal. They’d worked well together, their thought processes operating in a similar fashion that eliminated lengthy explanations between them. Indeed, they’d each picked up on what the other had been trying to communicate with a speed that reminded Annie painfully of the way they’d meshed six years ago. Sometimes back then words hadn’t been necessary at all, just touch and taste—

Annie leaped to her feet, scattering papers and scaring the cat, who ran behind the couch. This was getting her nowhere! Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through her mouth, she gathered up her notes and sat back down. Kicking off her shoe, she tucked her foot beneath her, sipped her wine and stared at her own barely legible handwriting.

She would have liked to ask Cole about his life in Denver. She was curious as heck about what he’d been doing for the last six years, but she wouldn’t admit it—not to him. No, the last thing she wanted to hear was how, up in Colorado, he’d found the perfect woman, or, even worse, a whole string of perfect women to keep him company.

He wasn’t wearing a ring, but she knew that didn’t mean anything. Would Ryan have mentioned whether Cole was married? No, there was no reason for that—just as there was no room for personal feelings here. Not anger, not bitterness and certainly not regret. No matter how she felt about Cole, she knew what it was like to face the endless stares and questions from people who’d already decided you were guilty, all the while wondering if your life would ever be the same.

It made not the slightest difference that the woman facing a similar ordeal was the mother of the man who’d walked out when Annie had needed him desperately, ripping out her heart as he went. How satisfying to be instrumental in getting Lily Cassidy off, and in knowing that from now on her son would owe Annie for something he could never hope to repay. When he thought of her, the feelings in his heart would be obligation and gratitude, however reluctantly given, and not the somewhat distant indifference he’d shown her today.