The Reckoning (9 page)

Emmett would pay.

Joanne was staring at him as if he were a sensitive Tom Hanks and a bad boy Colin Farrell rolled into one. “How do you go about it, though? Is it like the television shows or is it more mundane than that? A lot of computer work, I suppose.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But mostly it's asking the right questions of the right people.” His only real difficulty had been to fake reasons for asking the questions he needed the answers to. And that he couldn't ask them in person. “The
man whose trail I'm on had been staying at an inn in the little town of Red Rock. But he checked out a couple of weeks ago.”

It pissed Jason off that he hadn't considered the possibility that Emmett would leave the area around the Fortune ranch. His little brother had toadied up to Ryan while the old goat was dying, and Jason had just assumed he'd stick around to shine the apples of the weeping widow, Lily. But once the old man had kicked the bucket, Emmett had kicked the Red Rock dust off his shoes.

Maybe because he'd gotten what he'd wanted—that nice inheritance from Ryan. It would surprise Jason to find out that his younger brother was thinking of Number One for once, but maybe that was why he'd left town. Whatever the reason, it had put a crimp in Jason's plans. He'd loved the idea of Emmett holed up in the Corner Inn in downtown Hickville, aka Red Rock, wondering when Jason was going to appear on his doorstep.

It was what he'd assumed Emmett was doing, staying holed up, and it had made Jason feel all happy inside to know his brother was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He'd spent several nights in the motel with a case of beer, toasting the idea.

“So how are you going to find this missing person now?”

Jason blinked, then looked at pretty Joanne. He'd forgotten what she'd asked. “Excuse me?”

“I said, how are you going to find your missing person?”

“Ah. That's where the right questions and the right person comes in. When I realized my target had checked out of the inn, I called to see if he'd left a forwarding address.”

“They just give out that kind of information over the phone?” Joanne looked as if the thought was scandalous.

“I said I was holding a delivery for him from Washington,
D.C. Mention the capital and everyone assumes it's important.”

“So you know where to find this man now?”

He wished. “Nothing is ever quite that easy, I'm afraid. They told me he had left a forwarding address, but it turns out to be a business.” A business that Jason knew well. The Fortune TX, Ltd. headquarters. On Kingston Street, in honor of that miserly bastard who hadn't had the kindness to help out Jason's grandfather, Farley, all those years ago. Months ago Jason had worked in that very office building, planning to use his business know-how and wily street smarts to bring financial and personal ruin down on Kingston's son, Ryan.

“So was it a ruse? You know, to throw people looking for him off the trail?” Joanne asked.

“No, he has some ties to that business. So I'm guessing he'll show up there sooner or later. I'll stake the place out, pick up his scent. He's in San Antonio, and now so am I. I'll find him.”

 

Emmett drifted out of a deep sleep. It struck him as odd, that deep sleep, because he didn't sleep well as a general rule. Hadn't for years. His eyes opened and he took in several unusual things at once: the bright light indicated it was well into morning; there was a sheet-covered lump next to him; he was wearing a smile on his face.

That scared the hell out of him. He wiped his face with his hands to erase the expression, even as he remembered what he'd been doing before dropping into that deep sleep. The sex had been great, no doubt about it, but it was nothing to smile about. He had to be careful not to give Linda the wrong idea.

He wasn't going to be sticking around.

The lump moved, stretched. Beneath the sheet, a hand flung out and landed on his bare chest. The lump froze. Then
the hand patted the flesh it had found, as if trying to figure out what it was by touch. Her pinkie encountered his nipple.

The sheet whipped over Linda's head and she stared at Emmett, her hair a rumpled mass of gold.

He didn't know why that made him want to smile again. “Memory jog,” he said to her confused face. “We—” How to put this without using a word as misleading as
love
or one as crass as
sex?
“—now have carnal knowledge of each other.”

She gripped the edge of the sheet between her fists and held it tightly to her throat. “‘Carnal knowledge'?”

His desire to smile died. Anxiety put its cold hand on the back of his neck. He couldn't read the expression on Linda's face, and he wasn't even sure what he wanted her to feel. Satisfied, yes. But beyond that, he didn't know. He shouldn't have told her so much about himself in those dark hours of early, early morning. Jessica Chandler. The darkness that was inside of him. Linda was bound to read more into what they'd done together after what he'd revealed to her.

She sat up, still clutching the sheet over the body parts that he'd so enjoyed just a few hours before. Her mouth opened, and he braced himself for whatever morning-after comment she might make.

“Does that mean you'll make the coffee while I take a shower?”

Shaking his head, Emmett trudged off to the kitchen. He was smiling again, damn it. But there he'd been, all poised to deliver a we-have-no-future speech, and she'd robbed him of the opportunity by demanding nothing more than caffeine in liquid form.

Lily Fortune had been right. Linda apparently wasn't interested in his staying power.

Within thirty minutes, it was like any other morning that
had gone on before at the guest house. He and Linda were both sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and sharing the newspaper. Emmett told himself he was glad of it, of course, but wasn't it somewhat odd? It seemed damned odd to him, but that could be because he never had stuck around long enough to enjoy breakfast with his occasional one-night stands.

His fingers crumpled the edges of the sports section he was holding open. Was that what she'd expected from him? A one-night stand?

She turned the page of the section she was reading and let out a little sigh.

He glanced over at her. She looked daisy-fresh, despite the little frown turning down her mouth. “What's the sigh for?” he asked. “What're you thinking about?”

Her little frown turned to a grimace. “The future.”

His stomach jumped. Damn it! See? He'd been right. He should have stayed away from her, because now she was linking the two of them together in a way he'd never intended.

He cleared his throat. They would have to have this conversation sometime, he supposed. “What about the future?”

She tapped the newspaper with her forefinger. “My future employment.”

He blinked. He'd been certain she was going to want to talk about the nonexistent
them,
but she'd gone ahead and surprised him again. Taking a sip of his coffee, he glanced at what she'd been reading. The classifieds. “No want ads for a secret agent accountants?” he asked.

She shot him a truculent look. “If you keep that up, you're going to pay.”

Maybe he already was, he thought. Because with that little pout to her mouth, all he could think about was kissing her again, holding her, smelling her, feeling her tighten
around him as she climaxed. He shifted in his chair. “I didn't realize you were eager to restart your career.”

“My old career is over. There are several reasons I wouldn't be welcomed back at the Treasury Department. First and foremost, I showed a distinct lack of judgment when I got involved with Cameron Fortune—the subject of an investigation.”

Emmett sipped his coffee again to hide his reaction to the other man's name. Frankly, he hated the dead guy's guts. Ryan had told him the kind of man his brother had been, and Emmett was certain that Cameron had seduced a young Linda with an expertise that she couldn't have expected or been prepared for. She'd been young and alone and looking for a family, he remembered her saying, which would certainly have made her only that much more vulnerable to an older man's wiles.

“I don't much like the idea of you going back to work there myself,” he heard himself say. Now where had that come from? He didn't want a say in her future, and he didn't want her expecting he wanted one.

She was looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

“For Ricky,” he said, as a way to explain himself. “I'm thinking of him.” Yeah, sure.

But Linda nodded. “You're right, of course. I have a young son now. A responsibility I take seriously. I need to find a line of work that doesn't risk my health and well-being, and that keeps me available for Ricky when he needs me.” She frowned again. “If he ever needs me.”

That downturn of her lips had that void in his chest aching again, and he rubbed at the pain. “I hope I'm not getting too personal,” he said, as if he hadn't had her nipples in his mouth and her hips in his hands just hours before, “but my understanding was that Ryan provided both you and Ricky
with trust funds that should leave you financially more than comfortable for the rest of your lives. You don't need to work.”

Maybe it
was
too personal, because she lowered her brows and shot him a narrow-eyed look. “I hope
I'm
not getting too personal, but my understanding is that Ryan left
you
a pile of money, too, and I don't hear you considering sitting on your behind for the rest of your life, Mr. G-Man.”

“I…” He hadn't meant to insult her. “I don't think I'm going back to the FBI, as a matter of fact.” His brain replayed the admission, because it was the first time it had ever heard the thought. He wasn't going back to the FBI?

“Why?”

I don't know. Why wouldn't I go back to the FBI?
“You have to hope when you're an FBI agent,” he said slowly. “I've lost most of that. And you have to care. I don't think I care enough anymore.”

“Or you care too much,” Linda said.

“No.” That wasn't true. He didn't want it to be true. “But I'm a lawyer by education, so I'll probably end up getting some fat-cat clients out of the punishments they so richly deserve.”

She was already shaking her head. “No, you won't. I don't believe that for a minute.”

“No, I won't.” He didn't try pretending he didn't appreciate the faith she had in him. “But I'd like to do something involving the law.”

Linda quieted, seeming lost in thought. “I have an idea,” she said after a few moments.

“An idea for your career?”

“No, for yours.”

“Me?” Until a few minutes ago, he hadn't even realized he needed one.

“Now don't look annoyed,” she said. “I'm only thinking of your future.”

“I'm not annoyed.” Okay, he was. Because she kept yanking the rug from beneath his feet. He'd woken up, worried he was going to have to make clear
they
had no future, and now here she was, figuring out what he should do for the rest of his life. The rest of his life without her. Shouldn't she want more from him than that?

She deserved everything from a man.

“Don't you want to know my idea?” she asked.

“I suppose you're going to tell me anyway.”

“Well, you're right about that. But I was thinking about Ryan, and how we both owe him a lot, and I got to thinking about all the other people and charities that he's helped over the years. Lily told me he'd wanted to set up some kind of philanthropic foundation but he ran out of time.”

Emmett looked down at his coffee. “A man like Ryan shouldn't have run out of time,” he muttered.

“Well, here's how you can help with that,” Linda said.

He raised his gaze to hers.

“
You
can set up the foundation. Ryan left the money. It just needs someone who knows his way through the legal channels and who knows Ryan's heart. It would be good work, Emmett, and a way to build on the legacy that Ryan left behind. I'm certain Lily would think it's a great idea.”

Good work…and a way to build on the legacy that Ryan left behind.

Emmett couldn't believe how much the notion appealed to him. How right it felt. “That would mean staying here in Texas,” he said slowly.

“I suppose.” A blush rose up Linda's neck as she stared down at her coffee.

Because it meant they'd be in the same state? Was she
thinking of a future for them, after all? Or worrying that
he
was grasping at ways to stay near to her?

Maybe he was, he thought, as another idea mushroomed out of hers. “A foundation like you're suggesting would need its very own secret agent accountant,” he said. “Well, not the secret agent part, but definitely an accountant.”

Her gaze lifted from her cup to his face. He couldn't read what it said. She opened her mouth and he braced for his worst fear. Which was that? That she'd agree? That she'd disagree?

A fist pounded on the kitchen door. A kid face peered through the window there. Ricky, interrupting the moment.

Thank God,
Emmett thought. And,
damn.

L
ess than an hour later, Emmett watched through the kitchen window as Linda passed the soccer ball back and forth to Ricky. The kid was a good player, and Linda was a lousy one, but they both handled the situation with good grace. He took another sip of his coffee. Despite Linda's worries, she was going to be a good mother. She
was
a good mother.

Without even thinking it over, he drew his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a familiar number, but one that he'd called only very rarely in recent years. It was answered by a soft voice, and guilt almost had him hanging up. But his gaze found Ricky and Linda again, and he forced himself to speak.

“Hi, Mom. It's me.”

“Emmett! I—I'm so happy to hear from you.”

“Not to mention surprised, eh, Mom?” He could see her in the kitchen, making her second pot of morning tea. At Christopher's funeral, he'd vowed to himself to keep in touch
more, but somehow he'd allowed himself to drift apart from his parents again.

“Maybe I
am
surprised, but that doesn't take away the pleasure of hearing your voice.”

The former Darcy Derosier had been the toast of her small Texas town when his father had wandered in, stricken with amnesia following a car accident. Blake Jamison had been tended to by the Derosier clan and won the heart of its beautiful daughter. She was a gentle yet strong Southern woman, one of those famed steel magnolias. But Emmett knew she was grieving heavily for the loss of both her sons: the murdered Christopher as well as Jason, whose criminality no one could explain or excuse.

“How are you doing, Mom?”

“I'm keeping on keeping on, as your father would say,” she told him, a little sigh in her voice. “We started a scholarship in your brother's name at your old high school.”

“That's a great idea.” He took a breath. “I'm thinking of setting up and running a foundation to benefit Ryan's favorite charities and projects.”

“You're going to leave the FBI?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” The more he said it, the more right it sounded. “Do you think that's a bad idea?”

“I don't think you have bad ideas, Emmett. You've always been good at what you do, but naturally I've worried about you being in law enforcement. More now than ever.”

Now that she'd lost her other sons. “I've never been injured, Mom.”

“I've worried about your emotions, your heart,” she answered. “It's a dark business you've been in.”

“Yeah.” And of course his father would have told her how he'd found Emmett in the Sandia Mountains some months back, trying to drink all his pain away. Emmett could tell her
he didn't have a heart, but it wouldn't be a comforting thought. And after last night…let's just say he didn't want to examine the subject too closely.

“So I'll be glad to see you out of the FBI.”

“I'm going to find Jason first.” Emmett squeezed shut his eyes, wishing he hadn't brought up his brother's name.

“I'll be glad of that, too.” His mother's voice had lowered to almost a whisper. “I can't bear the thought of him hurting anyone else.”

“It's not your fault, Mom. You know that.”

“Then you should know that mothers carry guilt as well as dish it out.”

He laughed at that, as she'd meant him to. She was a remarkable woman, his mother. Her hurt went deep, but so did her love. “I'd like you to meet another special mother I know.”

Outside, Linda was standing in the sunlight, inspecting Ricky's grubby hand. He'd showed Emmett a minuscule splinter the day before, and it looked as if he was seeking more sympathy from his mom now.

“A special woman or a special mother?” Darcy Jamison asked.

One smart cookie, he thought, with a wry grin. “Both.”

“You're talking about the girl, Linda, that Ryan asked you to look after. The one you're staying with.”

“She's not a girl. She's all—”
Woman,
he'd been about to say. But his smart-cookie mom would read a wealth of detail into that. “She's older than me, as a matter of fact. And her kid… You'd really like her kid.”

“It sounds like you do as well.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Ricky's easy to like. He's ten, a soccer player and a traffic patrol officer and a better speller than I am. He likes his pizza Hawaiian style and his hands dirty.”

His mother laughed. “Now those last two sound like someone I already know.”

Her laughter spread more balm over the wounds of the past few months. Last night Linda had started her own kind of healing, but reconnecting with his mother was helping, too. “You should come for a visit. Lily's still planning that big Fortune family reunion at the end of the month.”

“Oh, Emmett. I'm not sure.”

“I am. I want you to meet Ricky. He could use a—”

“Grandmother?”

Emmett froze. Was that what he was thinking? If his mother were Ricky's grandmother, then that would make him Ricky's…father. Was he really considering becoming the kid's dad?

The boy burst through the kitchen door just as the question sank into Emmett's brain. Linda followed more slowly behind, but her long legs ate up the distance between them all the same. Emmett backed himself against the refrigerator, staring at her. If he became Ricky's dad, then he became Linda's…husband.

Was that what he was really thinking?

“Emmett?” It was his mother's voice.

He shook his head, trying to regain his focus. “I'm here, Mom.”

“What's this little boy's favorite kind of pie?”

“I don't know. Hold on.” He thrust the phone toward Ricky. “You have a call, champ.”

Ricky turned toward him. “Me?”

“It's regarding pie. And it's my mother, so be polite.”

The boy took the phone. “Hello?”

Linda was looking at Emmett. “What's this all about?”

Where this might go between us. Where I can't believe I'm thinking this might go between us.

Yet he was smiling again, and he found himself walking to her, grabbing her chin and turning her face up for his kiss. She made a little startled sound, then whispered fiercely when he lifted his head. “Ricky!”

But the kid had his back to them. Emmett heard him offer up apple and peach pie, but put a definite nix on blueberry. He'd never liked blueberry pie, either. “He's preoccupied at the moment,” he told Linda, swooping in for another kiss. “It'll take a few more years for him to be thinking of dessert and kisses at the same time.”

Linda backed away. She didn't look mad, just confused. Guess what? He was confused, too. He hadn't felt this optimistic in…maybe his whole life.

How strange was that? Earlier, he had been worried about Linda thinking of forevers; instead, it was he who was thinking of them. He'd told her she'd brought light into his life and, God, it was true.

Ricky held up the phone, grinning. “She says you were not only a lousy speller, but you don't make beds very well, either.”

“Let me have that.” He whipped the cell out of the kid's hand. “Mom, you shouldn't be telling all my secrets.”

She was laughing again. Oh, yeah, there was light everywhere. “He's delightful, Emmett. And I have to work on my peach pies. I haven't made one in years.”

“Then you'll have to bring one or two to us here,” he said. “Ricky is drooling already, just thinking about them.”

“What about Linda? What kind of pie does she like?”

He glanced over at her bright blond hair. “Apple,” he said with confidence. “She's an apple-pie kind of girl.”

“I thought you said she was a woman,” his mother chided him, and there was a sly giggle in her voice. “But apple it is. I can't wait to meet her, too.”

Their call ended with more good humor and looking-for
ward-to-seeing-you promises. Emmett flipped his phone closed and found himself humming.

 

Keeping with the uncommon theme he had going, Emmett called his cousin Collin and made arrangements to meet for lunch in Red Rock. They decided upon Emma's, a popular café and local hangout facing the town square. Typical to them both, they pulled into the parking lot at the same time, twelve minutes early.

Emmett gave the other man's hand a firm shake. “Good to see you, cousin.”

Collin did an exaggerated double take. “Who are you and what have you done with my frozen-hearted Fed of a friend?”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously. The Emmett I know hasn't smiled since he beat me at Indian wrestling when he was ten.”

“As long as you remember I
did
beat you, I'll keep on smiling.”

“Hey, then I grew four inches and kicked your butt at every opportunity the next summer until you cried to your mom about it.”

They were shown to a table in the shade outside by Emma's very own Emma Mirabeau. When she hurried off to fetch the iced teas they'd ordered, Emmett looked over at his cousin. “I talked to her today,” he said.

Collin narrowed his eyes. “Your mother?”

Emmett nodded.

“That's good. She needs to hear from you more often.”

“I know. She's actually considering coming to Lily's big reunion now. And bringing pies. A peach pie for Ricky and an apple pie for Linda.”

Collin relaxed back in his chair. “Pies, huh? For Ricky and Linda. It all sounds very cozy.”

Emma brought their iced teas and took their orders. Collin and Emmett, no surprise, went for the same thing. The big burger platter. They came quickly, a half pound of prime Texas beef and crisp, golden steak fries.

Collin spoke again as Emmett lifted one of the potato wedges to his mouth. “So how cozy is it exactly, Emmett?”

He dropped the fry to take a big gulp from his glass instead. “How's my favorite redheaded medical student?”

“Talking about Lucy won't distract me, buddy.”

Emmett took another drink from his glass. “Maybe it's very cozy,” he said slowly. “Or heading that way.”

Now Collin was smiling. “You're kidding me.”

“No. Maybe. I'm not sure.” He drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “She…has a way about her that—”

Collin slapped his thigh and grinned. “Ho-ho! The mighty, the morose, oh, how he has fallen.”

Emmett scowled. He remembered a time when Collin had been as world-weary as he had always felt. “Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not polite to crow? You didn't see me ho-ho-ing when you were making yourself silly over Lucy.”

“Military men never make themselves silly.” Collin was still foolishly grinning. “Take that back.”

Emmett shook his head. Where had all his cousin's former bitterness disappeared to? Had Lucy brought to Collin the same kind of light that Linda had brought to him? “You have gotten downright clownlike thanks to this love thing, do you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“I'm not in love with Linda.” Emmett picked up the ketchup bottle. “Don't go that far.” He was a protector; they had a powerful sexual attraction. It was only natural that he might be considering taking her under his wing on a
more…protracted basis. Maybe something like—but he couldn't even think the
M
word. Not now. Not yet.

Collin appeared to bite the inside of his cheek. “Okay. It's very cozy, but it's not love. Got it.”

“I'm regretting inviting you to lunch.”

“Why did you?”

Emmett met his cousin's gaze. “Jason. We need to talk about Jason.”

“Is there any news?”

“Not beyond that call he made to me a couple of weeks back,” Emmett replied. As an Army Ranger for the CIA special ops, Collin was notorious for his ability to understand those he hunted. He understood the way a twisted man's head worked, which was why his request to transfer to Austin as a trainer had happened so quickly. Collin's talents were legendary. “Do you think Jason has fled the country after all?”

“Let's go over again what he told you in that call.”

“He seemed angry that I was named in Ryan's will. ‘Why should you get any of the Fortune money when it was me who worked so hard for it?' he asked. Then he said, ‘Keep looking over your shoulder, Emmett, because I'm coming after you.'”

Repeating the words brought it all back to him. That sense of evil he'd smelled in the air at the sound of his brother's voice. The crazed malevolence in his brother's tone.

He met his cousin's level gaze. “Jason hasn't left the country, has he, Collin?”

Shrugging, the other man watched him carefully. “You're as experienced as I am in this kind of case.”

Emmett rolled his shoulders as if he could shift the heavy weight he felt there. “I swore I'd get him. I made a vow to Ryan that I would put a stop to my brother. I've not been making progress.”

“Ryan didn't ask for that vow,” Collin pointed out. “He asked you to look after Linda and Ricky. You've been seeing to that.”

“Still… Not one of us will be free until we have him behind bars. My mother says she's coming to Lily's Fortune family reunion, but you and I both know she won't, not if Jason is still free. And my father… I know he feels more guilt and fear each day.”

“And you, Emmett? How do you feel?”

“Like I didn't do enough. Like I should have seen it coming since we were little kids. Jason hated Christopher, hated everything about him, from the Boy Scout badges he earned to the quiet way he cared about others around him.” And even though he'd admired Christopher, Emmett had never been close to him, either. The animosity Jason felt had been a looming presence in their household, and Emmett had distanced himself from it by distancing himself from every member of his family.

“No one could predict what Jason would become.”