In the Shadow of Vengeance Book 5, page 7
The heat in her gut rushed into her cheeks. Damn man. He had to remind her of the kiss. Instead of boxing him in his stupid nose, she turned toward the stove and hid the blush in the steam. Okay, so fear wasn’t the only thing keeping her awake at night—and unhinged during the day. That one kiss had derailed the little calm she had left, making everything else so overwhelming.
She returned the lid over the Dutch oven, but thankfully the stubborn men in her kitchen hadn’t caught her subterfuge because they were too busy trying to out-man each other. It was like watching two gunslingers in the middle of a dirt street preparing to draw. Derek knew exactly who Noah was, but did Noah recognize a fellow law enforcement officer?
Elizabeth slammed a cabinet door, ending the staring session. “Derek, I’ll think about what you said and call you in the morning.”
If Erin were standing there, she would give Elizabeth one of her rude glares. Her own mother was famous for saying, “Manners at all times.” Elizabeth had drilled that same etiquette into her own kids. She used politeness as a shield. She could avoid questions she couldn’t answer by resorting to a practiced polite lie. But rudeness was the only way to get action, even though it didn’t come naturally to her. Right now, she needed both men gone so she could think and plan.
“I’ll wait to hear from you.” At the doorway, Derek paused. “Call me if—”
“Of course.” She didn’t need him to finish the sentence. If anything changed, he would be her first call. And as much as she wanted to leave it alone, she followed him into the foyer and reached for his elbow.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” In a rare move, he draped his arm around her shoulder. Lowering his voice to a bare whisper, he said, “Promise me you will do nothing without talking to us first. Give me a chance to figure this out.”
A sob from the well of sobs escaped into her throat. She gulped it down. Derek was her lifeline to her real life. Losing him would be devastating. She raised her head. “Fine. Nothing crazy without clearing it with you.”
A slight grin crossed his face. “We sure the hell know where Danny gets his stubbornness. Why can’t you both be like Erin? I’m not leaving until you tell me what I need to hear.”
She took in a breath and forced out the words. “I’ll stay put for now, but that is a very thin promise.”
He nodded and left. She turned around and barreled into a broad chest. Noah’s arms went around her waist while she found her footing.
“Listening to a private conversation? I thought better of you, detective.”
“What was that about? What crazy thing are you planning?”
She shoved past him and headed toward the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “Go on up. Danny’s in his room.”
Before she got to the kitchen door, Noah gripped her elbow. “Just a second. I want an answer.”
He released her but didn’t step away. The anguish in his expression softened something inside her. He was worried about her.
“Derek is my boss. I asked him for a transfer, and he’s trying to talk me out of it.” She glanced at the stairs. “I would appreciate it if you would not mention it to the kids. I want them to hear it from me.”
“Where?”
“Across the country, maybe Seattle. I always wanted to see the Northwest. I should have left this city three years ago, given Danny a fresh start.”
“Do you at least have any family or close friends in Seattle?”
“It’s just Erin, Danny, and me. We’re family.”
Noah pulled both hands through his hair, then dropped them to his side. As many times as he had clasped his hair like that around her, it was surprising he wasn’t bald.
“Then damn it, stay here.”
“Stop cussing.”
He stalked so close, she had to lean back to meet his gaze.
“Stop frustrating the hell out of me.”
His eyes darkened and the heat of his body washed over her. Before she could get a little distance between them, his hands cupped her neck, his thumb massaging the tender area right behind her ear. All thoughts disappeared except for one. They would not kiss again. She’d spent the last forty-eight hours raking herself over the coals for that stupid mistake. With an inner force she didn’t know existed seconds before, she shook his hand free and entered the kitchen.
“Elizabeth, you can’t transfer to a place where you know no one. You’re on edge, and I don’t blame you.” He pulled out a chair. “We need to talk, and it would be better if you were sitting.”
Her stomach flipped. Noah had something on his mind, and she would not like it one bit. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and said, “I’ll stand.”
“I called in a favor from someone who works in forensics. He found a print on the teapot.” He removed his phone from the inside of his sport coat. “Is this the guy from the subway?”
She glanced at the screen and reached for the table for support. The man who attacked her lay on what appeared to be a brick walkway, his eyes wide open and bloodshot. “Yes. Is he dead?”
“He was found on a bench in Inner Harbor two nights ago.”
“I wanted him caught, not dead. How did he die?”
“Something was injected into his jugular. There was enough sedative in his system to put a horse down.”
“He was murdered?”
“Are you sure you never met this guy before he tried to steal your purse on the subway?”
“No, never.” She dropped into the chair.
“This guy’s prints were on the teapot.”
“What? That’s impossible.” She shot up out of the chair and paced.
The facts spun around in her head until she lined them up in order: attack, break-in, Danny’s dream, murder. The next realization slammed into her gut, emptying her lungs of air. “Could Danny be right and this guy targeted me?”
She couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice as she rushed to the kitchen door and listened for her kids.
“Erin and Danny are fine.”
“He was in this house when I was at the hospital with Danny.” Her thoughts shot to another possibility. “Did he have anything to do with those men attacking my son?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t been able to locate them.”
She reached for her phone in the center of the table, turned it on, and pressed the number one. Noah’s hand covered hers and the phone slipped from her fingers into his. He replaced it on the table.
“What’s the story behind the teapot? Why is it so special?”
There was no way she could lie to him. “It is the only thing I have of my mother’s.”
He studied her for several moments. Unexplainable emotions crossed his features. “Where are your parents?”
“They’re gone.” Her heart twisted with grief. The room grew quiet. The sounds from Danny’s video game drifted downstairs but didn’t fill the void.
“I’m sorry for your loss. How did they—”
“I can’t talk about them. Please don’t ask.” Her arms circled her waist.
The lies were in place, rehearsed over again. They had become as natural as her childhood prayers. But each time she said the words out loud, they sliced a new hole in her heart.
“Okay, then tell me, who else besides Danny and Erin knows how important that teapot is to you?”
Only Spencer.
That thought fueled her nightmares. But she didn’t have an answer she could share, so she shrugged.
The front door opened and shut. Before Elizabeth could stop him, Noah stormed out of the kitchen with his weapon drawn. Derek came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the living room.
“Easy, detective.” Derek held his hands out in front of him.
“Elizabeth asked you to leave. What are you doing back here?”
“I called him,” she whispered, placing her hand on Noah’s arm. “No guns. Put it away.”
“I don’t think so. Not until I get some answers.”
“Okay, but in the kitchen. Please. The kids…”
Another uncomfortable silence followed. She tugged on Noah’s arm, and he finally lowered the weapon.
“After you.”
Derek didn’t argue but headed for the kitchen. Noah entered behind Elizabeth, blocking the only exit.
“I’ve been with you the whole time. You didn’t make a call.”
Derek stared at her. He wouldn’t be the one to volunteer any information.
“I speed-dialed Derek. It was something we set up after I started working for him. He didn’t like that I was living in the city with babies by myself. I just turn it on,” she picked up her phone, “and push one number to send him a 911.”
“You’re doing it again, Elizabeth. There may be some truth in what you just said, but the rest is just crap. What the hell is going on?”
“Detective McNeil, please stop pointing that thing at me,” Derek said.
Noah placed his weapon in the holster at his waist. Elizabeth could almost taste the disgust rolling off him. He might not like her very much, but once he knew who she was, his life would change, too. He would become part of her secrets and the trappings that came with them. There was no way she was pulling him into her nightmare.
Spencer had to be alive. There was no other explanation. Why had he waited this long to come after her?
At some point, Noah settled behind her, the heat of his body and spicy herbal scent insulating her. He gently tugged her to his chest. The instant she leaned against him, he wrapped his arm around her, resting it at her waist.
His breathing was steady, but his heart rapidly drummed against her spine. Her world was falling apart, and she was losing control fast. This one time, she allowed herself the comfort of another person. She needed Noah’s strength like she needed air.
“The guy in the subway… his fingerprints were found on the teapot.”
Derek broke eye contact with Elizabeth and turned to Noah.
“Why did he pick the teapot, Derek? Why not my jewelry, the flat screen, or my tablet that was sitting in plain sight? I know of only one person who would have used my mom’s teapot against me.”
“He’s dead.”
“Is he?”
“Elizabeth, it has been over thirteen years.”
Noah pushed away from the counter. “Who in the hell are you two talking about?”
She ignored Noah. “Earlier, you said I needed proof I wasn’t overreacting. Is this enough for that transfer?”
“Yeah. A definite maybe.”
Nine
The doors clanged shut behind Spencer Pegler and the lock clicked in place. His escort moved ahead of him down the long corridor to the next set of barred doors. The guard’s rubber soles squeaked on the shiny linoleum flooring; the hollow echo reverberated against the walls.
Each step the guard took grated on Spencer’s nerves. What was he doing here? In his position, he didn’t need this shit. Prisons gave him the creeps. That he was being summoned like a damn intern already put him in a bad mood. The worst part—he did not know who he was meeting or what the guy’s medical problems were.
This job should have been passed on to one of the organization’s doctors. He didn’t make house calls. But according to De Rousse, when this inmate asked for a meeting, you took it. Disrespect was dealt by a bullet behind the head. Yet if the guy was so powerful, what the hell was he doing in this place?
Spencer tensed his muscles as the next set of doors locked behind him. The further they moved into the belly of the prison, the more horrid the place smelled. Burnt, stale food combined with the stench of an overcrowded men’s locker room permeated his nostrils. “How much further?”
“It’s a big place. The infirmary is in the rear left corner. We’re almost there.” He grinned back at Spencer. “Relax. If you don’t belong here, we let you out.”
Any other place, Spencer would have let the guard know firsthand what he thought of his sense of humor. Instead, he took a firm grip on his temper and plastered a not a care in the world expression onto his face.
The guard used his ID to key open the infirmary entrance, then moved to the side and motioned for Spencer to enter. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, the guard shut the door, locking him alone in the room.
The space was like any other examination room. The walls were a little beat up, the equipment a few years out of date, but the familiar setting eased the tension from his shoulders.
“Dr. Spencer Pegler?”
The stranger’s voice stole Spencer’s breath. He prided himself on his awareness, but the man leaning against the back wall seemed to seep through the drywall.
“I’m Dr. Pegler,” he said, and set his bag on the paper-covered examination table. He didn’t hold out his hand. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“That I do,” the stranger said and limped out of the dim corner.
As he moved closer, Spencer studied the man’s movements, but waited for him to speak. After years of controlling the De Rousse organization, he understood power. Spencer was feared by many, underestimated by only a few.
But this man oozed power from every pore. Even his clothes were different. Instead of the prison uniform worn by the inmates in the yard, he wore silk and wool. But his life here hadn’t been easy. His skin was pale with a yellowish tint, cheeks, shallow, and dark shadows appeared beneath his eyes.
Most doctors would start running liver function tests. Spencer saw something else: a healthy arrogance. This inmate hadn’t contacted him because he was in the market for an organ transplant — not that Spencer was in that line of business anymore. Way too messy.
And, it didn’t get past him; the stranger didn’t introduce himself. He scanned the room for any sign of a chart, even though he didn’t expect to find one. Men like this didn’t permit information about them left around for anyone to see.
Squaring his shoulders, he asked, “So what can I do for you?”
“We need to first establish what I can do for you.” He tossed an envelope onto the examination table. “Go on, open it.”
Spencer tore the seal and a familiar fragrance wafted around him. Instead of handling the contents, he turned the envelope upside down and dumped them onto the instrument tray next to him. He immediately recognized the vintage sterling silver hairbrush and crystal perfume decanter. One glance at the three photos and his heart slammed into his chest wall. Elizabeth!
The photos weren’t recent. His wife sat in an unfamiliar rocking chair and held an infant in her arms. But it wasn’t Erin. The way she stared in wonder at the child, there was no doubt the infant was hers. Several questions bombarded Spencer at once, but one stood out: Whose child was she holding?
Thirteen years slipped away and raw hatred coursed through him. She was his wife, and took vows to stand by him. Living on the hate from her betrayal got him through the many surgeries that first year.
“A man can live on vengeance for a long time.”
Spencer slowly raised his head. “Where did you get these?”
“We have a lot to discuss.”
“It would seem.” Spencer choked back the bile in his throat. “If this is an information trade, what can I do for you?”
“That can wait for the moment. Ask the questions plaguing you the most.”
“Do you know where my wife is?”
“Yes.”
“And the child she is holding?”
“Your son. Born six months before she testified against you and the De Rousse organization. Did you believe she died in the tornado?”
His son!
The bitch stole his son. Spencer’s gut clenched tightly as blood rushed to his head. Control.
He took in a cleansing breath, held it for the count of ten, and then quietly exhaled. “No. She had to be alive. No one else close to me would dare go against me. What do you want?”
“Dr. Pegler, I would have thought you learned patience in the last few years. Vengeance can’t be rushed. It must be savored like a fine glass of wine.”
Patience.
The way his heart pounded, he was surprised he didn’t stroke out. Spencer redirected his focus to the man’s dark eyes and almost took a step back.
Evil.
This man understood firsthand what Spencer was feeling. Without a single word spoken, he agreed to the plan.
“Good. We do this my way, understand?”
“When do we begin?”
“It’s already begun.”
Ten
Her hand shook as she coiled the last section of Erin’s hair around the heated flat iron. After a couple of seconds, she slipped the loose ringlet around her fingers before allowing it to drape freely down the back of her daughter’s sapphire satin ball gown.
Erin and her partner were going on stage in a few minutes to perform their final number. Elizabeth loved watching Erin dance, but tonight she couldn’t shake the disquiet that seemed to take root in her gut since the break-in two weeks ago.
The luxury hotel in the center of Baltimore that hosted the dance competition was noisy, with masses of people herding from one part of the hotel to the other. It played havoc on her nerves. Crowds made her uncomfortable. She lost control in large groups of people, vulnerable to the threat of her two worlds colliding.
“Mom, are you okay? You’re making funny breathing noises.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I think I’m nervous for you and Alex,” she said, placing the flatiron on the dressing table.
“We’ve got this. As long as I don’t trip during the foxtrot, we’ll breeze through.”
Elizabeth hugged her daughter tightly. “If you could bottle that enthusiasm, we would be rich.”
“It’s all how you look at it. Beat yourself up in practice and love the dance at the performance.”
Elizabeth gave herself a mental pat on the back. It was hard hiring a dance coach for her daughter, but David Chapman was worth every cent. He reinforced a solid foundation of confidence in Erin that Elizabeth could only dream of.
