Acceptable Risks (8 page)

“Something that bonds with muscle cells, helps them knit together stronger.”

That was so cool. “Does it make
you
stronger?”

He grinned briefly and rose. “Watch.” He went over to a large planter on the corner of the deck. It was about three feet across, round, and filled with dirt, maybe stones on the bottom for drainage. The plants were typical houseplants—geraniums, petunias, philodendron.

Jason not only lifted the pot with one hand, he lifted it above his head, not even requiring the use of his other hand to steady it. And he stood there, holding it at an angle, so the weight was not over the pole of his upraised arm, but to the side.

“Holy crap.”

He set the planter down with a light thump. “They don’t know.”

“Why the hell not?”

Jason sat back in his chair and picked up his water. “I found out accidentally. And I already hated being studied and poked and prodded. I didn’t want to become a show pony, too.”

“Yet you performed for me. You told me.”

“Imagine that.” He drank.

As she watched his throat working, her own dried out. She sipped her water, but it didn’t help.

Her gaze dropped to the curves of his biceps, clear through the snug shirt, and the flat plane of his abdomen. Her heart pounded, and she didn’t know if it was because of the implications of their breakthroughs, or how incredibly hot his strength was. She tightened her grip on the bottle to keep herself from fanning her face or plucking at her shirt.

“Umm…” She struggled to remember what he’d just said. “You can also run faster, according to Dad.”

He shrugged.

“You move so smoothly,” she marveled. “Like there’s nothing wrong with you. Like nothing has been wrong.”

“Rehab. Keeps the joints oiled, the muscles supple.” He rotated a shoulder.

“But it’s more than that,” she pressed. “Normally you’d be sore—”

“I’m not normal,” he cut her off.

“No,” she agreed after a moment. She didn’t say he’d never
been
normal. Even though he wasn’t actively part of her life, his presence, his influence on her father, had been. When she was young, her father had told her stories of Jason’s honor and skill and bravery. Her minor hero worship faded as she matured and then built her own life, but she still recognized one thing.

Very few people could have accomplished what Jason Templeton had after he died. Someday, maybe he’d understand it wasn’t what had been done to him that made his recovery a success, but what he’d done with it.

Chapter Seven

Ella arrived at Matthew’s house at ten minutes to eight on Saturday morning. He went out to the front porch when her Chrysler Sebring convertible pulled up in the front circle. She didn’t dally, but immediately pulled herself out of the car and crossed the uneven cobblestones with a brisk, even stride, despite her very high heels. Neither the shoes nor the short—and wrinkled—gray business skirt seemed to hinder her movements.

In the decade since Matthew had seen her last, she’d aged mostly well. Her tan hid the wrinkles it was responsible for, though as she climbed the porch steps he could see faint white lines in the corners of her eyes. She either squinted a lot, or laughed while she soaked up the rays.

“Thank you for seeing me.” She held out both hands and lifted her cheek for a kiss he declined to give her. Instead he gave her hands a quick squeeze and motioned for her to precede him into the house.

“It’s my pleasure,” good manners forced him to say. “Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee would be lovely, if you have some made.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt, and he wondered if it was for the wrinkles or her obvious nervousness.

“I do. Why don’t you go into the living room and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, the kitchen is fine.” She started to follow him down the hallway.

“Living room is more comfortable,” he pointed out.

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble. And I know you’re in a hurry.”

He was. He didn’t have any appointments today, but he wanted Gabby to get some things ready to run a couple of extra tests when Jason and Lark arrived. If he hurried, he could probably beat Gabby to the lab. He’d awoken with an energy he hadn’t had in a long time, and he resented having to meet with Ella this morning. Suspicion and curiosity had kept him from canceling, but he wasn’t going to let her linger.

“Okay, then,” he said to Ella. “Let’s talk.” But she was silent while he got two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with coffee, placing them on the island where she’d claimed a stool, then retrieving cream and sugar. Even once he stood opposite her, stirring sugar into his own coffee, he had to prompt her to speak.

“What can I do for you?”

She winced. “It’s not me. I mean, I shouldn’t have said I hoped you could help me. That’s not why I’m here. It’s more…more that I hope I can help you.” Her hand shook as she raised the coffee mug to her mouth, and Matthew forced himself to relax so he could try to help her do the same.

“It’s okay. I have plenty of time,” he lied. “Tell me what you’re doing now. It was real estate back then, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” She blinked at him, frowned slightly, but answered more thoroughly. “I did residential real estate for an agency for about five years, but opened my own commercial-focused agency with a friend.”

“Do you still do that?”

“Yes, of course, but we’ve branched out a bit. Financial services, a boutique travel agency. More of a relocation service,” she amended, getting into her topic. “But we’ve done some regular travel arrangements for clients.”

“You seem to be doing well. Who’s your partner?”

She waved a hand. “You don’t know him. Or—okay, maybe you do. You know everyone.” What little loosening her muscles had done over the two minutes she was distracted now tightened up again. She was going to end up with a full body cramp.

“His name is Seamus Kemmerling.”

Matthew’s body jolted. He contained it with difficulty, but Ella didn’t seem to notice. “Seamus Kemmerling?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“K-E-M-M-E-R-L-I-N-G?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” He drank some more coffee and kept his tone disinterested and his body language neutral. He wasn’t lying. He’d never heard of Seamus, and that pissed him off. The pre-employment background checks on Isaac should have turned him up, assuming they were related.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve known Seamus for nearly fifteen years. We went through our Realtor licensing program together. He went to work for a commercial company right away, though, while I got my feet wet in residential. Then we opened our own office together, and…” She trailed off and looked uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure where she’d been going with that.

“Are you romantically involved?” Matthew tried.

“No.”

“Do you know his family?”

Her face cleared. “Yes, and that’s actually the point of this whole thing.” She settled more completely onto the stool and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the coffee mug as if it would leap off the counter if she didn’t hold it tightly enough.

“A couple of years ago, Seamus’s cousin Isaac showed up needing a job.”

Matthew frowned. “Where is your office?”

“Florida.”

“And Isaac came down there looking for work?” If he had found it, it had been short-lived. He started his own security firm only a few weeks after he left Hummingbird.

“He did, but Seamus ended up giving him money to start a business instead.”

“Were they close? I mean, did Seamus talk about Isaac a lot, did you meet him before that?”

“No, Seamus is a lot older. He was surprised when Isaac came to him. But neither one of them has other family. It made sense.”

Matthew drained his mug and turned his back on Ella to refill it. But he could see her reflection in the toaster and the stainless steel blender base. She rubbed her hand across her forehead before she continued.

“Seamus gave him a substantial loan, out of our savings. It was meant to be used to pay the mortgage in case we had a slow month or two. Seamus told Isaac not to start paying us back until he’d been established for several months.”

“And you were to hope the bottom didn’t fall out of the market in the meantime?” He turned back but this time leaned against the counter instead of rejoining her at the island.

“Right. Well, of course, it had already, but we were doing okay, and it stayed that way. Isaac started making his payments right on time. He paid us every month for a couple of years until six months ago, when he stopped abruptly.”

Six months ago. Interesting timing.

“What does abruptly mean?”

She sighed. “Without notice. He refused to answer our calls, so I drafted a certified letter. It came back marked refused—not unable to deliver. I got mad and came up here.”

“Why you? He’s Seamus’s cousin.”

“I know. The family connection makes it harder.”

Matthew didn’t disagree. “Did you meet with him?”

“Yes, and he apologized and wrote a check for all the late payments. It was a good check—I called the bank—and I was shocked. I couldn’t believe he had the money and not some song and dance.”

“What reason did he give?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Finally
.

She spun her mug on the countertop. “He didn’t really give a reason, but I noticed something while I was at his office.”

“What?” Matthew prompted when she didn’t continue.

“He was obsessed with you. The post office must have made a mistake with my certified letter, because it was pretty obvious he’d forgotten to pay us, that his mind had been on other things. I had to wait to see him, and people were charging around, talking about you.”

She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, and he was getting tired of the drawn-out lead-in. He straightened away from the counter and set his mug down.

“Thanks, Ella. I appreciate—”

“I’m not finished,” she barked at his deliberately dismissive tone.

“Okay.” He resumed his position, folding his arms and watching her face as she visibly controlled her temper.

“His payments continued normally over the last few months. But he contacted me this week. I don’t know why now. He asked a bunch of questions about my relationship with you, and—”

Matthew waited, but she didn’t finish. “It’s okay, Ella, I can probably guess what you’re going to say.”

Her brows crunched together and she fiddled with the edge of the placemat. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He smiled a little. “Because I’m good at what I do.” She still didn’t continue, so he said, “Isaac waited until now to approach you because he probably just learned of our connection. Kelly’s been dead for a long time, and in-law relationships aren’t easily picked up on when they’re not active.” He retrieved her mug and put it in the sink with his own, this time not turning his back on her. “I’m guessing Isaac hoped you could get close to me. Get access to my files, maybe, or my people. Find vulnerabilities.”

Ella picked up her purse from the island next to her and rummaged in it a bit. “Yes, that’s exactly what he was getting at.”

“And since you haven’t been in touch with me for years, you knew that wasn’t going to happen.”

She looked up, astonishment painted onto her face. “What?”

“You came up with this, instead. Pretend to warn me about Isaac’s intentions. Be all flustered and worried, maybe tell me he threatened you, to fire my protective instincts.” He eased away from the counter and moved to her side. She stilled, one hand inside her purse, the other hidden between her and the island.

“No, that’s—”

Matthew gently caught her wrist as she pulled her hand, fast but not fast enough, out of her bag. She clutched an uncapped syringe. A drop of liquid fell from the tip onto the tile floor. Her mouth trembled and she twisted her wrist slightly, but he didn’t let go.

“It’s okay, Ella. Isaac wouldn’t expect you to succeed.” He kept talking in as soothing a tone as he could manage. Ella leaned toward him, collapsing against his chest, an obvious trick so she could get her free hand up. She swung the other syringe high, trying to stick him in the neck.

He let her.

* * *

Though Lark slept poorly and suspected Jason did, too, they got up at dawn and headed out, grabbing fast food breakfast on the way. A few hours later, they were back at Hummingbird.

But her father wasn’t.

It was a Saturday, and the office staff wasn’t present. But this wasn’t a nine-to-five business. There were always agents on site, contacts for mission leaders on jobs, and the occasional tech on standby for IT support. Today, they saw almost no one as they made their way up to her father’s office.

Which was open and empty. The combination forced a sliver of fear into her heart, though she didn’t know why. She’d never been here when her father wasn’t, and didn’t know how it was supposed to be. Unlocked didn’t seem right, no matter how she looked at it.

“Where’s Caitlyn?” she asked, as if anyone could answer. She checked the assistant’s desk. Her computer was in standby, pending central backup. Lark checked the logout time. Five-fifteen the day before.

She inhaled hard as the sliver swelled to panic, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, her pulse in her neck and wrists. She swiped a finger at the cold moisture on her upper lip. “Dad was supposed to be here to meet us, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

The office’s front wall was glass, and they could see there was no one inside. Still, Jason motioned for her to stay in the reception area while he went in.

Like she could stand here and do nothing. She whipped out her cell phone and hit the number for the house. No answer. Tried his cell. Went straight to voice mail. Maybe he was in the shower or something. She pretended it wasn’t ridiculous to think he’d gotten out in three seconds, and dialed again. Nothing.