Standing in the Shadows (29 page)

"And we do hope you will be able to carve out a moment in your busy schedule to meet with Mr. Mueller when he comes to Seattle."

"Goodness, yes," she said weakly. "Of course. Whenever it's convenient. Any time at all."

"Don't forget our engagement party, honey." Connor's voice had a sharp, warning tone. "It'll be a crazy week. Think before you speak."

Erin glared at him, horrified. "My priorities are very clear when it comes to my work, Connor! You'll have to get used to sharing me."

He slouched in his chair, eyes narrowed. "I don't share, baby."

She turned her back on him. "I will be delighted to meet with Mr. Mueller at any time," she said firmly.

"Very well. We will be in touch with you as Mr. Mueller's plans develop." Dobbs's voice was markedly cooler. "And Ms. Riggs… think long and hard about your priorities. Mr. Mueller's offer represents an enormous commitment of time and effort. If your other interests are too, er,
compelling
, do be honest. We are talking about a minimum of fifteen million dollars for the new wing. To say nothing of the value of the collection itself. It is an enormous, I repeat, enormous responsibility."

"I understand," she said tightly.

Connor rose to his feet and stretched, popping his knuckles. "Great, then. We're done here, huh? Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dobbs, Ms. Julian. Come on, babe. Your chariot awaits."

Erin smiled over her gritted teeth as she shook hands with Dobbs. "Thank you again, and thank Mr. Mueller for me, too," she said. "I am so gratified by his faith in me. It means a lot to—"

"Et cetera, et cetera, blah, blah, blah," Connor cut in. "Dobbs can make up the rest. It's all filler, anyhow. Come on, babe."

That was it. The final indignity. She whirled on him. "Don't you
dare
speak to me like that, Connor McCloud!"

The appalled silence was finally broken by a slow, deliberate clapping sound. "Excellent," Tamara said, still applauding. "Much better. Your man needs a very strong hand, Ms. Riggs. Don't let him get the better of you for a second, or you are finished."

Erin opened her mouth to throw the woman's unsolicited advice right back in her face. The look in Tamara's eyes stopped her. Wide and bright and full of false innocence, waiting for Erin's reaction with predatory eagerness. She was taunting them deliberately.

She would not play this sick game. "Thank you so much for your generous advice, Ms. Julian, but I think I can handle him."

"Oh, yeah. Handle me, baby," Connor said softly. "I just can't wait to feel that strong hand of yours wrapped around me."

She gave him a sweet smile that promised instant death. "We will discuss it in the car, honey." She faced Dobbs and Tamara, "I'm so sorry. Connor's acting out. He must be feeling threatened. I'd better get him safely away. Please excuse us, and have a lovely day. I'll be in touch with you. Come on, Connor, let's go. Right now."

He trailed after her. "See you folks later. Have a good one."

Tamara's laughter followed mem all the way down the corridor.

Connor fell into step beside her, his long legs making one leisurely stride for her every two steps. "Erin—"

"In the car."

"Hey. I just want to—"

"Not one word, if you value your life. We will discuss it in the car."

He subsided. They paced silently out to the Cadillac. Connor unlocked her door, opened it. She got in and covered her hot face with her hands. She was literally shaking with rage. She had never been so angry in her life. Not even after Lydia had fired her.

Connor got in. He glanced at her, and looked swiftly away.

"Connor." Her throat vibrated. She swallowed, trying to steady it. "Did you see Kurt Novak lurking behind any columns?"

"No. But I—"

"And did Nigel Dobbs or Tamara Julian do or say anything that would lead you to believe that they intended to do me bodily harm?"

"Not directly, but I—"

"Then what in holy hell possessed you to be such an idiot? You deliberately embarrassed me! Why? What did I do to deserve that? What was the purpose of it?
What
?"

He winced at her shrill tone. "I didn't like them," he said defensively. "I didn't like that calculating redheaded bitch—"

"Well, she certainly liked you!" Erin cut in, with vicious emphasis.

"—and I didn't like Poker-up-the-Ass Dobbs, either. And just because this Mueller character gets off on playing God with his fucking fifteen million dollars is no reason to kiss his ass. You—"

"Kiss his ass? Is that what you think I was doing? You bastard!" She launched herself at him in a scratching, flailing, yelling fit, lost to all reason. He caught her wrists and wrestled her down until she was pinned to his lap in a breathlessly tight, furious embrace.

"Let me just say, in my own defense, that I was exactly as polite to them as they were to me," he said. Each word was like a chip of ice.

She heaved and struggled against him. "You're imagining things!"

"Bullshit, I am. They were fucking with me, and when people fuck with me, I do not smile and nod and take it, Erin. Ever. No matter how big a pile of money they're squatting on. Is that clear?"

She wrenched at her trapped wrists. "I heard that interchange, and I did not hear any rudeness!"

"Then you weren't listening closely enough," he said flatly.

Erin panted, staring at the tight, unrelenting grip he had on her wrists. She carefully organized her thoughts. "Uh, Connor?"

"Yeah? What?" He sounded apprehensive.

"For the record. If you really had been my fiancé, hypothetically speaking…"

He jerked his chin impatiently. "Yes?"

"Just be aware that after a scene like that, you would no longer be my fiance. It would be over."

"Oh yeah?"

She focused on the button she had sewed onto his shut this morning. "If that scene had been for real, it would have demonstrated that you had no respect for my intelligence. Or any respect for me at all. It would prove that you didn't trust my judgment, or have any regard for my professional dignity. And that would be unforgivable."

He went very still for a long moment. "Well, then," he murmured. "It's a damn good thing it was all theater, then, huh?"

"Theater?" She wrenched at her wrists, in vain. "Hah! It was a crazy melodrama! Your jealous boyfriend act was ridiculous, Connor! And you made me look ridiculous, too!"

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. His eyes shifted away from hers. "Now I'm screwed," he said sourly. "You're giving me the look."

"What look is that?" she demanded.

"The intergalactic princess look. Don't. I already feel like a jerk."

"Good," she said.

He sighed, "I won't apologize for being rude to Mueller's lackeys, because they deserved it. But I'm sorry if I was rude to you."

She stopped wiggling, startled. "Uh… thank you."

"But look at it from my end. I was trying to communicate with you, and you were blocking me. You can't come running when that guy crooks his finger. We've got to pick our times and places carefully."

"No!" She convulsed, almost breaking out of his iron grip. "Not we! No more meetings with you in tow. No way. Never again. I will not allow you to ruin this for me! It's too important!"

"Jesus! I cannot get through to you, Erin! I am not reassured by the fact that Mueller didn't show. I was not impressed by Dobbs or Julian. And I was disgusted by the way they were jerking you around."

"Oh, God. Is that what you think of Mueller's offer?"

"Yeah. It is." The look on his face was a grim challenge.

She forced herself to stop struggling. "Please let me go, Connor," she said quietly. He let go, and she clambered off his lap and slid to the other end of the seat. "I would love to get jerked around like that more often," she said, straightening her clothing. "The chance to curate a collection like
Mueller's, to bring in a donation of that size, to be responsible for a new wing. For where I am in my career, it would be an unbelievable coup."

"Yeah, exactly," he said. "Unbelievable."

His tone sent a chill through her. "You can't possibly still be thinking that he's Novak."

He shrugged. "It bugs me that he didn't show his face once he found out I was with you. Until I meet the guy in person, I'll continue to assume the worst."

She sagged down onto the seat, deflated. Her anger was draining away and her energy with it, as if a vortex had opened up beneath her, sucking it up. It felt horribly familiar. It was the same vortex that had been sucking everyone she cared about into its big black maw.

This was such an old struggle. In that moment, she had a dim, aching flash of just how old it was. She'd been fighting this vortex ever since she was a tiny child. By trying to be good, orderly, disciplined. Trying to make sense of the world. All her life. With all her strength.

It wasn't enough. It was taking her down, like it had taken Dad. Like it seemed to be taking Mom. Maybe Cindy, too, for all she knew. Nothing could stop it. Certainly not her feeble efforts.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "So it's all a vicious conspiracy? Everything I do, everything I try to build, it's all an ugly joke, and I'm the butt of it. I'm never going to crawl out of this godawful stinking hole, am I, Connor? Monsters are waiting around every corner."

"Erin, please—"

"It's like quicksand," she quavered. "The harder I try to climb out, the deeper I sink."

"Erin, please," Connor pleaded. "Don't freak out on me. I could be wrong. Hell, I probably am wrong. Maybe I'm a paranoid idiot, and if so, I give you permission to kick my ass, OK? Please, don't cry. Come here."

"No." She shrank against the door. "Please, just shut up and leave me alone."

He knocked his head against the steering wheel with a snarl of raw frustration. "Oh, Christ. What a mess," he muttered, starting up the car with a roar. "Put your seat belt on."

The car was ominously silent for the next couple of hours. Erin kept her face averted. Connor finally pulled over at a roadside restaurant and parked. "Let's get some food," he said.

"I'm not hungry," she told him. "But go right ahead."

He marched around the car, wrenched the door open, and yanked her out. "You need to eat."

She was too tired to fight. "Don't, Connor," she said. "I'm coming. Please calm down."

"Hah," he muttered.

She ordered a bowl of chicken soup rather than argue over food, and made a show of eating it while he devoured his cheeseburger. She stopped at the bank of pay phones in the restaurant lobby on their way out, and plugged all her change into one of the phones. Her last quarter slipped from her fingers, and the damned thing rolled everywhere, deliberately eluding her. Connor finally subdued it by stomping it under his boot. He plugged it into the slot for her.

She dialed. A recorded voice said that the money she'd deposited was insufficient for that call, and would she please deposit another—

"Goddamn this worthless piece of garbage!" she shrieked.

She started pounding on it. Connor grabbed her fists and held her fast. "Hey. Cool it before they call the cops on us, babe," he soothed. "The screaming is making the hostess nervous. What's the problem?"

"Do you have any goddamn quarters?" she demanded.

"Shhh. I've got better than that." He wrapped his arms around her tightly from behind, surrounding her with his warmth. "I've got a cell phone, and it's still charged up.
Come on out to the car. You can make your call there, where it's private and quiet."

He flipped open the phone and handed it to her as soon as they got to the car. She dialed the cell phone number for Cindy. Nothing.

She dialed Mom's number, crossing her fingers. It was Monday evening. Mom should have gotten the phone turned back on by now.

It was still disconnected.

She snapped the phone shut, handed it back to him, and twisted her hands in her lap.

"Dead end?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Who were you trying to reach? Cindy?"

"And my mom," she whispered.

"What about your mom?" he prompted. "Is she OK?"

She let out a tight, hitching breath and shook her head.

"Tell me, Erin." There was no harsh note of command in his quiet voice this time.

She looked into her lap. "Mom's losing it," she said. "Most days she won't even get out of bed. She won't pay her bills. She didn't get her phone turned back on. She's going to lose the house. There's no money left to pay the mortgage. And now she's seeing things. In the TV Impossible things. The videos that Victor Lazar used to blackmail Dad. Of him, with his mistress. In bed." Her voice trailed off.

Connor made no comment. She looked up. His eyes were full of quiet comprehension. "I watched my dad fall apart," he said. "I know how it feels."

Her throat shook. "It's horrible. It's… it's like—"

"Like the earth opening up beneath your feet," he finished.

She started to cry, deep and wrenching sobs. He pulled her onto his lap, tucked her head beneath his chin, and rocked her tenderly. She let the storm rage through her, leaving her limp and exhausted, and so relaxed in the warm circle of his arms that she fell asleep.

The better part of an hour and a half went by. His bad leg was stiff and cramped beneath her warm weight, and they should have gotten right back on the road, but it was worth it, to hold such a fragrant, beautiful creature in his arms. He sneaked all the pins out of her hair and hid them in his jacket pocket, and her glossy bun had uncoiled and wrapped itself around his hand like a live thing before it lay quiet against her slender, graceful back. He pressed his cheek against her hair. So smooth and soft. Like nothing else on earth.

A car horn blared. She woke with a start. "What? Where are we?"

He stroked her back gently. "Same place we were before."

"But it's getting dark." She consulted her watch. "Good God, it's been over an hour. Why didn't you wake me?"

"I didn't want to disturb you," he said simply.

She scrambled off his lap. "We'd better get going," she murmured. "What happened to my hairpins?"

"Guess they fell out," he said, with a perfectly straight face.