Chapter Seven
Beau’s arm flew up in surprise but it was too late to block the blow. His cheek stung and anger tightened every muscle in his body. As she stood in front of him, Cassidy’s dark eyes flashed with fury.
Beau gritted his teeth to control his temper and took a step forward, forcing her back into the living room.
He slammed the door behind him. “Why the hell did you just hit me? And your reason better be good.”
She didn’t back down, didn’t show a trace of fear. Instead her pretty mouth curved in a hard-edged smile. “I know why you came to Pleasant Hill.”
“Is that right? Well, don’t keep me guessing.”
“That girl, Missy Kessler. She’s pregnant.”
He nodded. “Very pregnant. So what? How is that any business of yours?”
“It’s motive, Beau. Missy’s just a kid. You took advantage and got her pregnant. When you came over that day, you and your father started fighting about it. The fight got out of hand and in a fit of rage, you picked up the letter opener and stabbed him to death.”
He closed his eyes, trying to block the terrible image of his father on the floor, his chest soaked in blood. “That’s what you think happened?”
Her expression didn’t change. “Isn’t it?”
“My father had already been stabbed when I walked into the study. But you’re right, we did have a fight about the baby—the day before he died. And it wasn’t about my being the father. Missy’s baby is my half sister. My father is her dad.”
Silence fell in the room. The blood drained from Cassidy’s face. “Oh, my God.”
“I got him to agree to give Josie Kessler full custody so she and her daughter could raise the child together.”
“You . . . you offered to give her money,” she said. “You wanted to help her.”
“That’s right. I told Josie I’d pay the expenses, make sure the child and her mom were taken care of properly. I came back to the house the next day to get the custody papers signed. Missy didn’t want anyone to know, so I kept quiet about it. I guess it’s too late for that now.”
Cassidy bit her lip. Her eyes were dark with regret, but there was something more. She reached up and gently set her palm over the red mark on his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Beau. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know what happened.”
He caught her wrist, holding her hand in place against his cheek, feeling the soft throb of her pulse beneath his fingers. “Maybe you were starting to like me, maybe even trust me. Then you heard about Missy and you thought I’d let you down.” He let go of her wrist and she eased her hand away, but her eyes remained on his. “I didn’t kill my father, Cassidy. And if you trust me, I won’t let you down.”
She stared at him a few seconds more, then turned and walked over to the window. Sunlight glinted on her thick dark curls and he noticed the fine ruby strands running through them. His cheek still stung where she had slapped him. She was passionate and beautiful and in that moment, he realized how much he wanted her.
She turned to face him. “It won’t matter to the police. It’s still motive, Beau. You and your father could still have been fighting about the baby. You could have gotten so angry you picked up the letter opener and killed him.”
Beau started shaking his head. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill my father.”
Cassidy walked back to him, stood right in front of him. “I believe you. Over the years, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. I should have done that this time. I won’t jump to conclusions again.” And then she did something completely unexpected. She went up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.
Heat burned through him. Lust hit him so hard his whole body tightened. He reached for her but Cassidy stepped away.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I let my attraction to you cloud my judgment. I won’t do it again.”
It took all his control not to cross the distance between them and haul her into his arms. His hand fisted as he fought for control. “I want you,” he said. “I have since the moment I saw you in my father’s study. That day, I did the same thing you did—I misjudged the situation because of the attraction I felt for you. Now that we’ve cleared the air, we can—”
“No.” She shook her head, shifting those dark curls around her shoulders, making him ache to grab a fistful and drag her mouth back to his for a deeper, far different kind of kiss.
“That isn’t going to happen, Beau. We need to stay focused. I’m not sure you realize the trouble you’re in. So far you’re the primary suspect. Until we find the real killer, that isn’t going to change.”
“There isn’t any evidence, Cassidy. There never will be because I didn’t do it.”
“You’re on their radar. You had method and opportunity. The police will find out about Missy and that’ll give you motive. We need to find the killer. We have to if you’re going to clear your name.”
Since she was right, he didn’t argue. But now he had two objectives. One was to find the man who had murdered his dad. The other was far more personal. It had nothing to do with murder and everything to do with Cassidy Jones.
* * *
Malcolm Vaughn leaned back in the chair behind the desk in his office as the door opened and the visitor he’d been expecting walked in.
Clifford Jennings smiled, lifting the edges of a closely trimmed blond mustache that did nothing for his pale complexion. “The letter opener was a stroke of genius. According to my information, the cops have nothing—no prints, no DNA, nothing. And their only suspect is Beaumont Reese.”
Mal steepled his fingers, not bothering to get up from his chair or offer to shake hands. “That’s why you hire a professional. It might be expensive but you get what you pay for.”
“I couldn’t agree more. We may have a problem, though.”
One of Mal’s brown eyebrows went up. “You’re talking about Reese?”
“Reese has the money, but it’s the woman I’m worried about. Cassidy Jones is a private investigator and word is she’s way better than good. You remember that serial killer down in Houston—the Night Watchman? The credit for his arrest went to a bounty hunter in her office named Jason Maddox, but Jones was the tracer. She’s the one who actually tracked the guy down.”
Mal just shrugged. “Even a blind pig finds an acorn once in a while.”
“Yeah? You remember Oliver Graves, the guy who ran that hedge-fund pyramid scheme in Dallas? One of his investors got wind of what was going on and hired Jones to prove it. She compiled enough evidence to get the feds involved. Graves is currently serving fifteen to twenty in a Texas state prison.”
Malcolm straightened in his chair, not liking the news but sure he could handle any problems that might come up. “We’ll keep an eye on both of them. If it looks like the woman’s getting too close, we’ll do something about it. An accident of some sort wouldn’t be hard to arrange.”
“What about Reese?”
He shrugged. “Reese is a businessman and a world-class playboy. He and his old man weren’t even close. Eventually, he’ll get tired of the drama and move on. And there’s always a chance the DA will decide to prosecute. We can nudge things in that direction if we have to. Defending himself against a murder charge ought to keep Reese busy and out of our hair.”
Jennings nodded. “All right. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.” Turning, he walked out of the office.
As soon as the door closed, Mal took out the disposable phone he kept in the bottom desk drawer and punched in a number.
“There’s no need for concern,” he said. “Everything has been taken care of exactly as you wished.”
On the other end of the phone, the connection ended and the line went dead. Just like Senator Reese.
* * *
Later that same day, Beau moved into one of the guest rooms in the main house. His boyhood bedroom had long ago been painted and redecorated. His parents had never been the sentimental type. Avoiding the study, he set up his laptop on the desk in the room, surprised to find it more difficult to be in the house than he had imagined.
He hadn’t expected to feel the weight of depression settle over him, hadn’t expected the dark memories of his childhood to hover in the silence inside the house. The past seemed to hang like dust in the air, making it hard to breathe.
As a boy, he had escaped the house every chance he’d gotten, had left for good as soon as he’d turned eighteen. His parents had been glad to be rid of him, one less obstacle in their drive for success, both socially and politically, as well as financially.
Beau hated to admit he had inherited a lot of that same drive. He loved his work and he loved his successes. But he also valued his friends and the people who worked for him, and he tried to give back to the community for the satisfying life he lived.
Once he had wanted a wife and family, but that time was past. He’d been deeply in love with his college sweetheart, Sarah Mills. In some ways he had never completely recovered from Sarah’s death or the torturous year they had spent together while she fought a losing battle with cancer. Even now, thirteen years later, the thought of a wife and children with anyone else seemed incomprehensible.
Which didn’t mean he couldn’t have an enjoyable relationship with a woman. He’d had several over the years and still considered the women friends.
For an instant, Cassidy’s beautiful face and sexy curves flashed in his mind. He intended to take her to bed and soon. That brief kiss and her admission of the attraction she felt for him said more than any denial. He wanted her and he was a man who got what he wanted.
His cell rang as he finished the last of his unpacking. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he pressed it against his ear.
“It’s Rob,” the caller said. “Sorry, sir, but those files you wanted me to open are encrypted.”
“Encrypted? You sure? Forget it, stupid question, of course you’re sure.” But they were talking about his father, not some high-tech genius.
“It’ll take me a little time,” Rob said, “but I’ve got some . . . umm . . . software I can use to get into them if that’s what you want.”
Software. Rob could do just about anything. Beau had never asked for details. “Do it,” he said, and hung up the phone.
It was late by the time he went to bed. He should have been sleepy after such a stressful day, but instead his mind refused to quiet. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of Cassidy, of a deep, hot, wet kiss that seemed to have no end.
He woke up with a throbbing hard-on, feeling nearly as tired as he’d been the night before. He rolled out of bed, showered and dressed in jeans and a blue button-down shirt. Rolling the sleeves up to his elbows, he sat down at his computer and began running through emails.
Footsteps sounded, coming down the hall. A light rap, and Beau looked up to see Cassidy in the open bedroom doorway. “I knocked on the kitchen door but no one answered. It was open so I came on in.”
He rose from his chair and walked toward her. “I told Flo to go on home, take a few days off. This can’t be easy on her.”
“Are you going to let her go?” She spotted the laptop, sitting open and turned on, and wandered farther into the room.
Beau forced himself not to glance at the bed. “Flo was with my father for fifteen years, so no. I’ll find something for her to do.”
Cassidy smiled and he felt it like an electric shock to his system.
“I’m glad,” she said, showing a soft side he found extremely attractive. Hell, there were a lot of things about the lady detective he found damned attractive.
“I found something in one of those manila files we took out of your father’s study.” She walked past him to the computer, and he managed to look beyond the sexy, dark blue skinny jeans and blue knit top to the manila folder tucked under her arm.
“What is it?”
She leaned over the desk to set it down. When she turned, he caught a glimpse of soft pale cleavage above a white lace bra and stifled a groan. Jesus, he never should have hired her. Distraction wasn’t a strong enough word.
She flipped open the folder. “This is the file on the sale of Green Gables Realty.”
“George Larson. He was one of the names my father gave you.”
“That’s right, the senator’s partner in the business. There’s something else in the file—a copy of a deed to a building in Iron Springs. It’s from the buyer of Green Gables, granting title to your father. The thing is, the deed wasn’t recorded until a month after the sale closed. I hate to say it, Beau, but I think your father took the building as payment on the side. It wasn’t in the escrow, so he wouldn’t have to divide the money with his partner when he sold it.”
Beau wasn’t surprised. He’d been suspicious of his father’s shady dealings half his life.
She pulled out another document. “This is a deed showing the sale of the Iron Springs building to a man named Robert Durant. I think your father sold it to him and took the money for himself.”
Beau leaned over to study the documents, trying to ignore the faint scent of gardenias that reminded him of their wrestling match in the hall.
He checked the dates and location of the property, glanced up. “He basically had no conscience, Cassidy. I warned you of that from the start.”
“Maybe he needed money.”
Beau opened his mouth to argue, then paused. “I guess it’s possible. We always had money when I was a kid. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I began to wonder where he was getting it. I started snooping through his papers, sneaking down the hall to eavesdrop on the late-night meetings going on in his study. It didn’t take long to figure out a lot of what he was doing wasn’t strictly on the up-and-up. It was just one more reason for me to get the hell out.”
She put the document back in the file. “Maybe Larson found out he’d been cheated. Maybe they fought about it, Larson lost his temper and killed him.”
Beau knew George Larson, who seemed a little too easygoing to stab a man in the heart. But money had a way of bringing out the worst in people. “We need to talk to him, find out if he has an alibi for the time of the murder.”
“Why don’t we give the information to Detective Briscoe? Let him talk to Larson.”
Beau sighed. “Because in a couple of weeks, my father is going to have a daughter. Pleasant Hill is a small town. Eventually everyone will know the senator was her dad. I don’t want her growing up with the whole town gossiping behind her back about the kind of man he was.”
“It might come out anyway, Beau.”
“If it happens, we’ll deal with it. First let’s find out where Larson was the day of the murder.”
“Do you know where we can find him?”
“I know where he lives.” He flicked her a glance. “You want to go for a ride?”
For an instant, something flashed in those sexy green eyes, as if she’d had the same lustful thought he’d had earlier. His blood surged, began to head south.
“I’m ready when you are,” she said, sending another hot rush through him.
“Okay . . . let’s go.” Beau clamped down on his inappropriate thoughts and urged Cassidy out of the room. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket as they walked through the house toward the door in the kitchen leading into the garage.
Cassidy grinned and snagged the keys from his hand. “How about letting me drive? I’ve never driven a Ferrari.”
Beau snatched the keys back. “I’m not driving the Ferrari. I’m in the Lambo. If you liked the Ferrari, you’re gonna love the Lamborghini.”
She hurried to keep up with him. “So you’re letting me drive?” she asked hopefully.
“Not today. It’s a little tricky. You’ll need a lesson first.”
She glanced up, that same hot spark back in her eyes. “A lesson sounds good. Always something new to learn.”
As he led her out of the house, Beau couldn’t help wondering if they were talking about cars or something a lot more personal and a helluva lot more interesting.
Sooner or later, he intended to find out.