Elisabeth Naughton - Wait for Me

His frown tore at her.

She swiped at her face again, desperate to change the subject. “Speaking of relationships…” She sniffled. “Simone tried to fire me today. Said she couldn’t in good faith be my lawyer anymore because she’s sleeping with you.”

A cheeky smile spread across his face. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her she couldn’t fire me because I was the client. And when she argued I told her if she brought it up again, I’d convince you to break up with her.”

His smile widened. “And what did she say?”

“She backtracked rather quickly. I think she’s got the hots for you, Mitch.”

His smile turned to a full-blown grin as he leaned back against the couch and threaded his fingers behind his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Seeing how happy he was made Kate remember how unhappy she was. Tears threatened again. She’d cried more in the last few weeks than she had in a year. She was sick of being such a girl. She rose, wiped her face again. “I need to go lie down.”

He pushed off the couch. “Are you going to be okay?”

That was a ludicrous question at the moment. Her heart had just been ripped to shreds, and she still didn’t understand what had really happened to her. But knowing that wasn’t the answer Mitch wanted to hear, she mustered up a pathetic smile. “I’ll survive. I’ve learned how to cope along the way.”

Wind pelted the small house. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the sheer curtains in Kate’s living room, shining right in Mitch’s eyes. Tossing an arm over his face to block out the light, he muttered curses. Whatever happened to real curtains?

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Good God, what was that? He flopped onto his side and yanked the pillow over his head to block out the relentless sound and obnoxious light. How the hell did Kate ever fall asleep in this place?

Slap. Slap. Slap.

No way he was sleeping with that incessant noise. On a frustrated groan, he tossed back the covers and moved toward the kitchen. Waves crashed against the sand outside. Placing a hand up to the window, he peeked into the backyard.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The screen flapped furiously in the wind. Pulling the back door open, he eased down the back steps in his bare feet, shivering in the cool night air. Sand gritted between his toes. A gust of wind whipped his hair in his face, reminding him he needed another haircut already. Damn thing grew like a weed.

The screen hung carelessly on rusted hinges. He ran his fingers along the doorjamb searching for a hook or latch of some kind. No way Kate just let it flop around all day and night. Unable to find anything, he made a mental note to fix it for her tomorrow. If nothing else, he could give her a peaceful night’s sleep.

A twig cracked behind him. His fingers paused on the wood. He turned. A shadow darted to the side. Pain exploded in the side of his head before he could follow the movement.

“Motherfucker.” He gripped his head and made it up one step before everything went black.

Light from the refrigerator spilled over Ryan into the dark kitchen. He stood with the door open, peering into the massive cavern. He wasn’t hungry, and a beer wasn’t going to quench the ache in the pit of his stomach. But lying in that bed upstairs remembering Katie next to him wasn’t doing much to help him relax either.

He glanced toward the phone. He should call her. But he didn’t know if she’d listen or just hang up on him. Rubbing a hand over the pain in his chest, he let out a long breath and closed his eyes. He’d give her a day. Then he’d try again. She wasn’t getting rid of him that easy.

His cell phone rang, and he jumped. Slamming the refrigerator door, he reached for it on the counter. Hope pulsed through him. Hope that she’d finally come to her senses.

“Katie?”

“Ryan, it’s Simone.”

“Oh, hey.” Disappointment flowed.

“Ryan, Mitch isn’t answering his phone.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the panic he heard in her words. “What?”

“He’s not answering his cell. He told me he’d have it on him at all times. Kate’s not answering her home phone or cell, either.”

Oh, shit. He didn’t even think, just headed for the hall where he’d left his shoes. “I hired security to sit outside her house. They haven’t called. It could just be the storm.”

“Right,” Simone said, but he knew she believed that as much as he did. “My PI finally emailed his report. My server was down today so I just got it. Ryan, Walter Alexander had two daughters. One of them died of cancer five years ago. Paula McKellen.”

Ryan stopped with one hand on the front door, the keys to his rental car in his hand as realization dawned. “That’s how he was linked to the McKellen name. He married into it.”

“Yes. Walter Alexander is—or was—Karl McKellen, president of McKellen Publishing. His daughter Paula married a Jacob Alexander eight years ago. She died after Tabofren was pulled by the FDA. I think she was in the clinical studies that were stopped.”

“Shit, that’s why he was so pissed.” And that’s why Ryan hadn’t recognized Jake Alexander’s name or put it together with the man he’d met and dealt with in his office. Because the son of a bitch had been using both names, staying under the radar as he ran his illegal drug study. And his father-in-law—Karl McKellen—had partnered up with him and Grayson Pharmaceuticals to get it pushed through the FDA.

“Yeah,” Simone said as rain pelted his face while he ran for the car. He climbed in, started the engine. “But there’s another daughter.”

He pushed damp hair out of his eyes and backed out of the driveway at rapid speed. “Where?”

“Here in San Francisco. Ryan, she works for you.”

“What? There’s no McKellen in my company. No Alexander either.”

“Ryan, his other daughter is Hannah Hughes.”

“No. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Oh, shit. Hannah, who’d been to Vancouver several times in the last month. Hannah, who’d headed the merger with Grayson. Hannah, who’d purchased that car for him and could have easily used it the day Janet Kelly had died when he’d left it parked in the building garage. And Hannah, who knew every detail of Kate’s return because he’d been stupid enough to share it with her.

Urgency coursed through him. He gunned the engine. “Simone, Hannah knows Katie’s out at the beach house tonight.”

“I’m in the car on the freeway. I already called the police.”

“I might beat you there. Don’t go inside without me or the cops. Do you hear me?”

The line went dead. “Simone?”

Shit. He couldn’t be sure if she’d heard him or not. He dialed the security detail he’d hired to sit outside Katie’s house.

No answer.

Shit!

Foot heavy on the accelerator, he tossed the phone on the front seat and gripped the steering wheel.

Warm water slid over Kate’s skin. Bubbles surrounded her. Unable to sleep, she’d drawn a bath, hoping the warmth would ease the chill deep in her bones. So far, it wasn’t working.

Her toe turned the faucet on and off in rhythmic succession while she stared at a spot on the edge of the tub. The occasional drip into the basin was the only sound in the room. Ryan’s face flashed in her mind, and she closed her eyes, wanting the water to wash away her heartache.

After an hour on the phone with Tom Adams making plans for the next few weeks, she was drained. Disappearing probably wasn’t the smartest plan at the moment, but it was the best she could come up with. Her parents would understand. Somehow she’d find a way to make Julia understand. And it wasn’t forever, just until things died down. She just didn’t want to know the truth anymore. Staying here while the press was swarming because of the story was only going to prolong her agony.

Running a hand over her hair, she let out a long breath and willed back the tears. Another waterfall wasn’t going to help matters.

The lights went out.

She sat up, sending water lapping over the side of the tub. The wind whistled outside. The screen door tapping down below echoed up to her ears.

You’re jumpy, Kate. Get a grip. Mitch is downstairs. Nothing’s going to happen. The storm probably knocked out power all over the street.

She eased out of the tub and grabbed her white, terry bathrobe. After belting it around her waist, she headed for the stairs. Shadows danced across the hall, and she tripped over Reed’s black Power Ranger. Pain shot through her toe. Biting her lip to keep from screaming, she hopped down the hall and tried to rub away the twinge. Couldn’t one damn thing go right for her?

The stairs creaked under her feet. A dull ache settled around her toe. She sucked in a breath as she rounded the newel post, not wanting to wake Mitch in the living room.

Cool air blasted across her face when she stepped into the kitchen. The back door was wide open, the screen slapping against the doorjamb.

What the hell? She took a step toward the door and stopped.

She’d locked that door before going upstairs. Common sense trickled in. Her stomach muscles tightened. The air clogged in her lungs.

Go get Mitch.

She backed out of the kitchen. Bumped into a table in the hall. A lamp crashed to the floor.

Her adrenaline surged.

Good God. She was acting like a frightened teenager in a horror movie. Mitch was probably behind her laughing.

Pressing a hand to her belly, she turned and looked through the doorway toward the couch in the living room.