Lie to Me (19 page)

“Find anything?” Damian called from his chair, twisting around to look at her.

She met his gaze. Hoping she looked nonchalant, she shook her head. “Nothing important, Damian. No.”

Damian still felt Casey’s soft flesh and silky hair against his face and shoulder, but forced himself to focus on the screen. He tensed against an aura of unpleasantness. So his father planned on retiring and Sam would take over. Sam had to know, and was probably freaking out, afraid that he’d ask for a piece of the pie. As if he’d want it! But Sam wouldn’t take any chances. He’d do what he could to get rid of him.

Including violence against me to get me to leave town? Does he think I’m that much a wuss? Probably he does, because I left before, took the coward’s way out. But he’s in for a surprise. I’m going to bust him and make him pay for this.

Damian’s fingers were banging against the keyboard. When had Sam changed from a caring big brother to this stranger whom he didn’t trust? He gritted his teeth and read on.

Annabelle wrote to Sam, trying to sound friendly, inviting him to visit her the next time his father did, telling him not to take things so hard.
So she knows he’s pressing too.
Damian let out a tired sigh and decided to check the e-mails that Sam had designated to the trash.

He stared at the first e-mail and blinked.

I received payment and will make sure the problem is solved.

It was signed just “L.” The e-mail had been sent from a Quickmail account. Hell, that didn’t tell him anything. Half the world had Quickmail.

Damian called Casey over.

“Could be anything,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He looked up at her, knowing she understood.

“It doesn’t give information.”

His stomach clenched. “Yeah, very discreet.”

Suddenly an explosion rocked the office from out in the hallway. Damian jumped to his feet and slammed out of his father’s office, down the narrow corridor and past Flora’s pristine desk, his heart banging. As he stopped a few feet from the door, he could smell her flowery scent right behind him. “Stay back, Casey!” Damian ordered. He reached inside the leather jacket and pulled out his gun. To his annoyance, Casey joined him at his side.

“Get behind me!” he snapped. He stepped in front of her, his adrenalin racing.

“No. We’re in this together. I’ve got your back.” She stepped up to his side again.

He glanced at her for a second, only slightly surprised to see that she also held a gun. Under different circumstances, he may have laughed.

“Please stand behind me, babe,” he said, and she retreated two steps backwards as he swung open the door with no idea what he’d find on the other side. She instantly bolted to his side again and he tensed, his blood racing as he readied for a major confrontation.

“Shit,” he said, and they looked at each other, then back toward the hallway again.

Both hastily put their guns away. In the fork of the corridor, a husky, silver-bearded man in overalls was on his hands and knees picking up packaged squares of paper that had obviously fallen out of a box. He glanced up at them, fortunately after their guns were hidden. “Sorry,” he said, with a sheepish grin. “It slipped out of my hands.”

“That’s all right,” Damian said, trying to slow his heartbeat to normal.

Damian quickly tugged on Casey’s arm, and pulled her back inside the office. Very deliberately, he shut the office door. “I’m edgy,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes by turning to the door to twist the locks.

“This place gives me the creeps tonight,” Casey said.

Damian silently agreed. He turned toward Casey’s determined face. “It shouldn’t shock me, but I didn’t know you owned a gun or could shoot. And I thought I knew everything about you.”

“After you split, I needed protection for me and Miles. I’ve practiced and I’m good.”

“Of course.”

“When did you learn to shoot a gun, Clyde?” she asked, laughter in her dark, deep eyes.

“Alabama. Reese and I used to go for target practice.”

“Reese!” She made a distasteful face. “Her name keeps popping up.”

He reached for her chin. “Believe me, my mind isn’t on her these days.” Her features softened, and he kept his hand on her chin, enjoying the feel of her silky skin. In a teasing voice he said, “Guess we’re armed and dangerous.” They actually were. He didn’t doubt that Casey was a crack shot because she did everything well. He also trusted his own marksmanship skills.

Her responding smile told him she had the same faith in her own ability to shoot.

“We should both feel safe now.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down the narrow corridor and into the large office suite once again. Partly from relief, he swatted her softly on her buttocks. “Let’s finish and get out of here, ’kay?”

“The sooner the better.”

Damian sobered as Casey walked back to his father’s desk.

Damian made his way to Sam’s desk. Sitting down to the e-mails again, he instantly started wondering what the hell “L” had done. A little distracted, he read a few more e-mails from the trash pile, and then switched to “sent messages.” Time to see what Sam himself had written.

Minutes ticked by without anything exciting. Damian read the same dull, repetitious, whiny tirades against the union, mixed in with corporate matters. He was just about to quit and go digging through Sam’s desk drawers when he came upon a startling red-inked heading that made him flinch.

Red is the color of blood
it said on top.

Dave,

This is my enemies list. We talked about writing one up, remember? I actually did it. I’d like to get all of these people away from the mill, and start a non-union workplace. Hell, I’d like to fire the asses of half the men who aren’t in the Union. Start fresh. Do it my way.

I can’t tell you how stressed out I’ve been. Shrink gave me pills. I never filled the script. Not going to depend on drugs, but if I didn’t have important business to attend to (you know what I mean), I’d take a cruise. Dad already knows I’m not myself lately, and I wonder if he trusts me anymore. My life is going to hell, and I can’t allow that to happen.

Read my enemies list, and feel free to add to it. Don’t show this to anyone else.

Damian’s heart raced as he whirled his chair around. “Case!” he called.

She’d been rummaging through Michael’s drawer. She slammed it shut and joined him at Sam’s computer. “Red is the color of blood? Enemy List? A new low for Sam.” She paused. “He sounds like a mess. So where’s the list?”

Damian scrolled down. About two inches below the heading, he read, “Van Pomeroy.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Union Boss,” Damian muttered. He had to scroll another two inches before seeing another name. The entire list was laid out that way. As he scrolled past each name, he read them out loud. “Richard Connolly…DeShawn Johnson…Barry Leberwitz…Simeon Alexander…”

“Who are these men?” Casey cut in.

Their heads were close and Damian felt comforted by her closeness, her scent, and her heat. He could almost feel the velvet of her skin, and he needed her near him. This correspondence was giving him a sick feeling. “Except for Van,” he said to her, “these are company men; men who fire people for Dad and Sam. Fools who probably think they’re in good standing with them.” He laughed without mirth. “I don’t think these names are here for raises and promotions.”

“No.” Casey moved closer to him, her cheek grazing his. She rested her hand over his arm.

Damian tried not to let on that he was upset at the capabilities of his brother, but figured that Casey knew. Casey always read his emotions, even when he masked them. He scrolled down a few more inches and was about to quit when his eyes shot wide open as he caught his breath.

“
Damian fucking asswipe Ballantine
!!!!”

Damian shouldn’t have been surprised, and knew he was wasting emotion being upset, but seeing his name on his brother’s enemy’s list struck him like a punch to the gut. He swore under his breath, shaking his head. Casey uttered her disbelief.

Damian’s elbows dropped to the table. He didn’t have the energy to try to hide his disgust and devastation. “Unbelievable,” he whispered, his hand touching the screen, wishing he could erase it with his touch. “Stupid bastard. I was never his enemy until he made it that way!” He felt shockwaves of betrayal. They’d exchanged a lot of “I hate you’s.” And Damian did hate him. But he loved him too. And he wanted Sam to love him back.

“I’m sorry,” Casey murmured in a comforting way.

Damian tried to sort out the chaos inside his head.

Casey recovered. “I know you’re thinking the worst—”

“Stop it already, Casey!” he snapped, his palm banging the desk. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but look at this!” Damian balled both of his fists and set them in his lap. He stared at her, spitting out the words. “This is the big brother who was my hero!” He laughed, angrily. “Bastard! Fucking bastard! He wants me out of town so badly that he’d hurt me and threaten the rest of the family, thinking that will make me leave. He was behind Alex’s attack, and I
knew
it! Damn!”

“Damian, he was pissed off at you when he typed that. Doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

“Do you really believe that’s it?” Damian sure didn’t. His damn brother! In spite of his suspicions, he’d wanted to give Sam the benefit of the doubt. How could Sam break his heart—no. He wouldn’t admit that, even to himself. He buried his face in his hands and wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. “Leave me alone for a few minutes,” he said to Casey. He felt like bawling and no way would she see
that
.

“No.” Casey wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Sweetheart, this could be nothing more than a Sam-style temper tantrum on the computer. The laid-off mill workers are angry, some may be angry enough to hurt people. That makes a lot more sense than Sam.”

Damian heard her voice and was grateful she cared, but he couldn’t stop thinking that it was Sam. And, damn it, he wished it were anybody else.

Casey felt him shaking and knew he was fighting to stay in control. Feeling helpless, she tried to put herself in Damian’s shoes. What if her sister had put her name on an enemies list? Even if her sister had meant her no physical harm, it would have stung. Badly. Unless it was a joke.

Sam didn’t joke.

“I never wanted our animosity to come to this.” Damian spoke into his hands, his words a flat monotone.

It hurt her to see him this upset. She pressed the side of her head against his; the warmth from his skin spreading to her every pore. “I’ll pay Sam a visit, he’ll open up to me, hon. I can flirt with him and he’ll talk.”

“No way are you going to be alone with him, especially to flirt!” Damian yanked her against him with too much force.

She could feel his trembling body beneath the leather of his jacket. He still hid his face, now with one palm. Casey caressed the hair that spilled over his collar. Her eyes filled and she silently cursed Sam, even as she still wasn’t convinced he’d planned the shovel attack. That just wasn’t how Sam got his way. Still, she no longer knew for sure.

Damian pulled away, in control again. He turned his chair toward her, and slapped his hands on his denim-covered thighs. “It’s time to leave,” he said, in a quiet voice.