Touched by Lightning [Dreams of You] (Romantic Suspense) (27 page)

He patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you. No one will hurt you again.”

His words sounded hollow, but it was hard to tell with her heart pumping blood right next to her eardrums, pounding the century-old rhythms of a tribal drum. They were heading toward her old mansion, or maybe Adrian’s house. A police car passed them, and Jack’s hand tightened on hers.

“Jack, what is going on?”

“Trust me, darling.” He smiled, but his words sounded much sterner than a request.

A cell phone lay on the floor where she had probably kicked it when Jack shoved her inside. She reached for it and started dialing before Jack could do anything. It rang.

“Who are you calling?”

“I have to let Adrian know I’m alive.” The switchboard operator answered, but before Nikki gave her Adrian’s room number, Jack snagged the phone from her and pressed the end button.

“I can’t let you do that.” He dropped the phone between the seat and the door on his side.

She fought to keep the panic from her voice. “Why not? Why are you doing this?”

The gates of the Madsen mansion loomed ahead, and he pulled right through. For a second, she was paralyzed with fear. Jack was taking her right to Devlin, the man who had tried to kill her twice. He parked the van and grabbed for her hand as she reached the door handle.

“Don’t be afraid.” He smiled, but Nikki saw an urgent gleam in his eyes. “I can’t let you talk to Adrian, because he’s the one who tried to kill you.”

She wanted to spit in his face, but her throat was too dry to accommodate her. “Let me go! I’ll never believe that.”

Without loosening his iron grip, he reached into the interior of the van and pulled out that day’s newspaper, The Palm Beach Post. The headlines screamed a terrible lie: Premier photographer charged with devastating explosion that killed Nicole Madsen. And in smaller print below: Was it obsession that drove Adrian Wilde to a gruesome murder?

She threw the newspaper at Jack as if the flames in the photograph had burned her hand. “It’s not true! He wouldn’t do that to me.”

Jack leaned back against the door but still held her hand in his grip. “He was there, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t try to kill me.”

A trickle of sweat ran down Jack’s neck and down the front of his chest. His white cotton shirt was damp beneath the arm pits. Yet he looked so calm. “Why, because he told you that he loved you?”

“Yes,” she said, the word barely above a whisper.

“Did he tell you that he came to see me a couple of days ago?”

“No.” An ache deep inside her widened to encompass her entire midsection.

“He paid Devlin and I a visit at LandCorp. He had a business proposition for us.”

The ache spread to her limbs, her head. “No,” she said, this time sounding more like a whimper. Adrian had gone to two meetings but wouldn’t tell her who they were with.

“The morning of the explosion, and the day before that.”

She wouldn’t believe that Adrian had set up that explosion. “You’re lying.” But he had the times right; the times Adrian had disappeared. “Trust me,” he’d asked of her. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to shed them.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” With his other hand, he reached over and touched her cheek. She jerked away before he made contact. His hand remained suspended in midair. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer. Her hand was busy trying to subtly find the door handle. When she touched it, she grabbed hold and yanked it down. Nothing happened.

“It’s locked.” He pulled her toward him. “You don’t have to be afraid of me; I’m trying to help you. Let’s go inside.”

“No!” she screamed, but the van’s windows were closed, and her voice was so thick, she knew no one had heard.

“I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you about him, but you had to know, didn’t you? I couldn’t let you waltz into the hospital and tell him his plan hadn’t worked.” With her face only a few inches from his, he leaned forward and kissed her, this time more gently. “Don’t you remember, I loved you before you left me? I have always loved you, though I could never understand why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me where you were. I could have helped you.”

“I didn’t need your help. And I don’t need it now.” She felt numb, but there was something about Jack that made her distrust him. Maybe it was the tidal wave of betrayal that rocked her, making her doubt everyone. “Let me go. I promise I won’t see Adrian, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll disappear.”

“I’m not going to let you walk out of my life again, driving me crazy with worry. I want to take care of you, and I won’t let you put yourself in jeopardy.”

She glanced at the house sitting in front of them. “Then why did you bring me here?”

“Because Devlin went up north to spend some time with friends, to overcome the devastating loss of his sister.”

A cruel laugh escaped her. “That’s ridiculous. The police would never let him leave the state.”

“They have no evidence to hold him, though they did tell him to stick around in case they had any other questions. He has an airtight alibi for the time during and before the bomb went off in your van.”

Nikki was baffled. Devlin had an alibi? If the bomb was triggered by the car’s ignition, then it would have had to been put in during the thunderstorm, after she’d parked it in the alley. Something wasn’t right.

“It had to be him.”

Jack shook his head. “He didn’t. He was at Bradley’s most of the afternoon and evening, drowning his financial sorrows. Adrian Wilde is the only suspect they have. They’re talking about it all over the radio, television. I can turn it on.”

She put her hand over his, stopping him from turning the knob.

His voice was soft. “You’re going to have to accept that he was the one who tried to kill you. But you’re safe now. Let’s go inside. Devlin won’t be back for a week. He was on the edge of a nervous breakdown and couldn’t stay around here any longer. I promise you that he won’t come back and hurt you. Trust me, Nikki. I’m the only one you can trust.”

She looked at him with his earnest expression and boyish lock of blond hair hanging over his forehead. How could she ever trust anyone again? Somehow she had a feeling that Jack wasn’t going to let her go. She wasn’t sure why he had become so protective of her, but she wasn’t going to trust him. For now, she would play along.

She glanced at the house, so hauntingly familiar. “Why here? Why not your house?”

“Because I don’t want the help to see you and realize who you are. I don’t want anyone to know you’re alive until we can figure out what’s going on and where you’ll be safest. Even though they have Adrian Wilde in custody, he mentioned an uncle with whom he was working. If this guy is real, he may be out there.”

“What about Devlin’s help? Surely they’ll tell him that I’m here?”

“There is no help anymore.”

“No help? No servants, no maid? For this whole house?”

“Nope. Devlin doesn’t have the money to keep it up.”

Her gaze scanned the windows along the front. It looked dark, quiet. “Okay, I’ll go inside.”

He seemed to relax, then opened the door on his side and helped her out. “Good. You can freshen up, get some rest, and we’ll catch up on everything we’ve missed.”

“We haven’t missed anything,” she said, following him up to the house. “How did you get a key, anyway?”

But the door wasn’t locked. “Devlin asked me to take care of the place while he was gone.”

The gardens in the courtyards on either side of the entrance were now straggly and malnourished. The rose bushes her mother had loved so much were nearly dead.

Inside, a thousand memories assailed her. Though the house was past its days of elegance, Nikki saw it the way she remembered: the white tile sparkling, the glass buffet laden with crystal bowls of punch and platters of hors d’oeuvres. Through the formal living room she could see the lanai and pool, all lit up at night when Blossom threw a party. If it was daytime, children would be splashing in the pool, causing rippling reflections to dance throughout the house.

“What’s happened to this place?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

The tile was dirty, the sheers over the windows laden with dust, and the pool was a wretched shade of green. The house had been filled with plants, but now there only dirt-filled pots with dried-up stalks. Adrian had said her brother looked empty and sad. The house looked that way, too. Maybe Devlin hadn’t won after all. The thought brought her little satisfaction. It seemed as though he’d murdered their mother for nothing.

Jack had walked up behind her, and his arms threaded around her shoulders. “I’m sorry you have to see it this way.”

She turned, moving out of his embrace, and faced him. “You and Devlin are business partners? Friends?”

He shrugged, making it seem casual. “He needs someone to guide him. And he needs a friend.”

“So you’re the one who agreed to bail him out for control of LandCorp?”

He looked surprised, backing away from her an inch. “How’d you know about that?”

“I have my sources. But I didn’t know it was you. Why? What’s in it for you?”

Jack cocked his head, smiling. “Devlin is like a brother to me. Sure, he’s a nitwit sometimes, but I care about him. Think of me as a guardian angel, of sorts. He makes mistakes and I try to fix them. Usually he won’t let me fix them, but this time he’s too mired in financial mud to resist.”

“So what does controlling interest in LandCorp mean to you?”

“It means I have the power to make LandCorp a successful company.”

She was trying to get a bead on Jack and Devlin’s relationship. “Don’t you have enough going on with all your other ventures? Saving LandCorp is a losing proposition, and Jack Barton doesn’t like to lose. Does he?”

His eyebrow arched at that. “No, I don’t. Why all the questions?”

She gave him an innocent smile. “Just catching up.” Then her expression became serious. “Do you believe Devlin planted that pipe bomb, the first one? It was his idea for me to ride with them to teach you a lesson.”

“No, he wasn’t behind it. I think it was someone trying to get back at him backing out on a deal. If he was behind it, he’s smart enough to convince a jury, and me, that he’s innocent. You still think he did it.”

“Yes.” She walked to the sliding glass door, looking out to the ocean that always comforted her. This time not even the waves glistening with sun could temper the pain searing through her heart. Yet her mind was numb, filtering through the pain, groping for reason.

“Jack, I need to call Ulyssis. He won’t tell Adrian or anyone else.”

He turned her to face him. “Darling, if you want to stay safe, stay alive, you must let everyone think you’re dead. Everyone.”

“I have to tell Ulyssis. He’ll be devastated.”

Jack nodded. “Okay, but why don’t you freshen up first?” He pinched her nose gently. “Then we’ll fix something to eat and figure out what we’re going to do with you.”

He walked upstairs with her, past the room that used to be hers. It was empty. When she paused, he stopped.

“He was so hurt that you testified against him, he got rid of everything. But your mother’s clothes are still here.”

Jack pulled her along to her mother’s room. Nikki was shocked to find that the master bedroom looked exactly the same as she remembered it. It didn’t look like Devlin had moved in. Surely, he hadn’t taken the mourning son bit this far, this long.

There were framed pictures on the wall of a young Nikki and Devlin. Her curls had been tediously corkscrewed by her mother for hours before that photograph had been taken, and back then Nikki tried to pretend that going through so much to look pretty was worth it.

The picture of her parents sat on the dresser, smiling through a layer of dust, not a care in the world. Back then, that was truly the case. They had plenty of money, two lovely children, a gorgeous house on the ocean, everything they could want. Her father, Addington, had been handsome, warm and loving. He wasn’t as pretentious as Blossom; he was too busy working hard to make sure his family had everything they wanted. Much more than they wanted.

Nikki swiped at the tear that dripped down her cheek. How had everything gotten so damn screwed up? Here she was, back in her own home, with a man she once thought she’d loved, wondering if the man she truly loved had tried to kill her. She was in a state of numbness, but the thought ravaged her heart again.

Jack emerged from the closet with a pair of silk pants and a blouse to match. Nikki could remember seeing her mother in that outfit, though she’d probably only worn it once. It was burgundy, and Blossom despised dark colors.

Nikki heard the shower start, then Jack steered her inside the master bath toward the marble tub filling with bubbles. She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. A bubble bath? Now? Then she wondered if he was going to stay in the bathroom with her while she bathed. He lingered, staring at the bubbles as they rose higher.

“Jack?”

He started, then looked at her. “What?”

“Are you going to watch me?”

He smiled. “If you want me to.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Why didn’t you ever let me make love to you, Nikki? I wanted to make you my wife, but you never let me please you in that most intimate way.”

She moved away from his touch. “Because I was waiting for it to feel right.”

“Why didn’t it feel right?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I don’t know.”

He seemed to contemplate her answer, watching her with those speculative blue eyes. She crossed her arms in front of her, signaling that she was not going to step into that tub until he left. After a moment, he turned away.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the master suite.” He glanced around before snatching up an old magazine in a rack by the toilet. “Reading this. Take your time.”

She watched him disappear down the hallway and heard him drop down on the bed. Her parents’ bed. It seemed strange that he had brought her here and was so protective of her. Why was he sticking so close? He could peer down the hallway and see her in the tub.