Perfect Victim, The (21 page)

"But only until my equipment is replaced."

Randall shook his head. He wasn't sure if the reality of her situation
—
or the inherent dangers of it—had penetrated that stubborn brain of hers yet, but he knew it would. He wanted to make sure he was there for her when it did.

Over take-out fried ride and egg rolls, Addison and Randall sat at her dining room table and pored over the file of papers she’d accumulated while searching for her birth
parents. There were legal adoption papers. A copy of her amended birth certificate. Correspondence from Jim Bernstein.

"If Bernstein had additional documents in his office, we'll need to get copies." Randall stretched, revealing his shoulder holster and pistol.

It was as if the gun was an extension of the man, Addison thought. Hard. Dangerous. Studying him, she realized she wasn't quite sure if she was relieved or dismayed that he'd decided to stick around. True, she needed his help. But on the other hand, she didn't like him telling her what to do. She didn't want him stepping into her life and telling her how to run it.

She'd called Gretchen and relayed the news of Jim Bernstein's death. Her efforts not to alarm her friend were in vain. Had it not been for Gretchen's baby-waiting assignment, combined with the fact that her son-in-law was out of town, she would have rushed over like a retired guard dog thrust back into the line of duty. The thought made Addison smile.

"How long will it be before Jack can tell us something?" she asked, shoving her plate aside.

Randall smiled, as if the thought of his brother tapping away on the keyboard amused him. "Computer crimes take time." A dimple appeared on his right cheek when his smile deepened. "He'll be at it all night."

Refusing to let herself be charmed, she rose and collected their plates. Now wasn't the time to start noticing dimples, for God's sake. It was bad enough that she was starting to like his smile.

He followed her to the kitchen, pausing at the door. "Addison."

She looked up from the sink. He was leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed at his chest, watching her.

Finishing the plate, she faced him, thankful she had the towel to keep her hands busy. What was it about Randall Talbot that had her acting like a nervous cat?

"You mentioned earlier that your parents were killed in a car accident," he said.

Apprehension danced in her chest
.
"That's right
.
It happened about ten months ago."

"Did your father or mother know who your biological parents were?"

The implica
t
ion sliced her like a blade
.
The thought that followed was unfathomable. She leaned against the counter. "You don
'
t think ..
.
"

He approached her, placing his hands gently on her upper arms
.
"We need to talk about that. I need to ask you some questions
.
"

"About the accident?"

He nodded. "How much do you know?"

'
'Enough
.'
' The old pain transformed into something much more terrible
.
Vaguely, she was aware of the heat of his fingers coming through her sweater
.
So strong and reassuring. How easy it would be to step forward and fall into his embrace..
.
.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

She stared at him
,
realizing with some discomfort that his dark eyes had seen things she couldn
'
t imagine even in her nightmares. She studied his face
,
hating it that he was so shuttered, that she couldn't even begin to read him. She allowed him to guide her into the living room, needing that instant of contact before she uttered the words that curdled like old milk in her stomach. "Their car slid out of control on an icy patch in the road and went down a ravine. They were killed instantly."

"Had you been looking for your birth parents prior to the accident?"

"Not seriously. I dabbled mostly. I was always afraid I would hurt them .
.
..
" Her chest ached with the thought
.
"I never wanted them to think it mattered."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment
.
"I need to look into the accident
.
"

"You don't think it was an accident, do you?" She sank onto the sofa.

''That's what I need to find out."

In all the months since their deaths, Addison had never considered any other scenario. She refused to believe her parents had been murdered. Not until it was proven to her. The consequences were much too painful.

Taking the loveseat opposite her, he gave her a sage look.

"I'll drive up tomorrow."

"I'll go with you."

"You'll only slow me down," he said. "Besides, Jack could use some help with the computer. He'll need social security numbers. Birth dates."

Anger snapped through her like a whip. "Don't you dare try to shut me out of this."

"You'll be safer with Jack."

"This is important to me. I need to do this."

"You need to stay alive."

"You work for me. This is my call. My decision. Dammit, I go with you." She hadn't meant for the words to come out so angrily. But she refused to be shut out of something so important, even for the sake of her own safety.

"We had an agreement," he said. "You agreed to abide by my terms."

"I agreed before you told me what you knew. That wasn't fair. I won't abide by that.”

"I'm not taking you with me."

"My parents were killed in that ravine, not yours. I'll be damned if I'll let you go up there without me. I deserve to know what happened."

Rising abruptly, Randall started for the door.

Addison watched him, apprehension pumping through her. "Where are you going?" she asked, appalled by the alarm in her voice.

At the kitchen door, he turned to her, hitting her with the full force of his stare. "I'm going to call Jack and ask him to find out what he can about the accident." His lips curled
into
a dark smile. "You didn't think I was leaving, did you?"

That was exactly what she'd thought, but she'd rather have her fingernails pulled out than admit it
.

Punching in the number, he raked her with a blatant onceover that made her want to squirm. "I'll sleep on the sofa tonight."

The image of that long, hard body stretched out on her sofa flashed in her mind. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the
'
image intrigued her
.
He was such a difficult man
,
so uncompromising, that she found it hard to imagine him vulnerable in sleep.

Telling herself she was crazy to let her imagination—or her hormones
—
run amok, Addison turned
on her
.
heel and headed for the linen closet
.
The past week had taken its toll on her emotions and obviously affected her ability to handle stress
.
Funny how it had affected her libido, she thought, disgusted
.
She was crazy to be thinking about a man like Randall Talbot in the physical sense. They were about as compatible as water and oil. "More like fire and gasoline," she mumbled as she opened the closet door
.

He was standing in front of the fire
,
looking into the
flames, when she returned to the living room lugging a comforter and sheet
.
She'd purposefully chosen pink, knowing it would grate against that macho facade he wore so well. Without sparing him a glance
,
she draped the sheet over the sofa and proceeded to tuck the edges into the cushions.

Satisfied with her work, she brushed her hands against her slacks and turned to face him. "I prefer to get an early start, if you don't mind—
"

The intensity of his gaze stopped her cold
-
and told her more about his frame of mind than she wanted to know
.
He was standing so close she could smell the subtle scent of his aftershave, feel the heat and energy pouring off him. A pleasant alarm trilled through her body. She didn't date much, but knew enough about men to recognize lust when she saw it
.
The realization shook her all the way down to her toes. Not just because she saw that disconcerting light in his eyes, but
because she knew that same light was in her own eyes as well.

His flannel shirt hung open, revealing a well-muscled chest covered with thick black hair. His belly was flat and rippled with muscle. The hair thickened slightly below his navel before disappearing into the waistband of low-rise jeans. Fleetingly, she wondered what that hard flesh would feel like under her fingertips. Was he as dangerous as he looked? Or was he the kind of man who used that hard facade to hide a heart that was every bit as vulnerable as hers?

Disturbed by the thoughts rushing through her, Addison broke eye contact and stepped back. How could she be thinking of that muscular chest when she should be thinking about getting her life, back?

His gun was lying on the coffee table looking out of place and menacing next to a crystal votive. She stared at it, wondering which was more dangerous at the moment, man or gun.

Only then did she realize she faced another kind of danger when it came to Randall Talbot. A danger that had nothing to do with masked men or guns—and everything to do with her heart.

"You should follow your instincts sometime, Ace," he said huskily. "Might be interesting for both of us."

"Animals follow their instincts." She met his gaze levelly despite the fact that her cheeks were on fire. "Human beings rely on intelligence."

One side of his mouth curved into an enigmatic smile. "I’ll try to remember that next time you look at me that way."

Shaken by his words, by her own reaction to them, Addison turned away and headed for the safety of her bedroom.

Chapter 10

The snow-covered peaks of the Rockies rose up out of the earth like ancient stone dinosaurs
.
Juniper, scrub, and bare
-
branched aspen jutted from the broken ridges
, c
radling patches of snow in their spindly boughs. The mountains had always been a place of escape for Randall
.
Even during that terrible last year with the NTSB
,
he'd made it
a point to hike or camp in the mountains every chance he got
.
He liked to believe it was the tranquility of this endless expanse of rock and sky that had helped him hang on to his sanity as long as he had.