Against the Storm1 (22 page)

He could defend himself if the need arose, and he stayed in shape. Jason could take care of the women, or at least knew what to do if they ran into trouble.

In the meantime, Trace had put in a call to Tony Ramirez, who had agreed to meet him at the Atlas office. He was waiting when Tony walked in. He wasn’t a big man, but strong as a bull, with powerful shoulders and arms. He had short black hair and a Roman nose. And he was smart, which was why he was good at his job.

“Good to see you, Tony.” The men shook hands and Trace led him back to his glass-enclosed office. “You want a cup of coffee or a Coke?”

“I just had lunch. I’m fine.”

Trace closed the door and both men sat down. “I appreciate your stopping by. What can you tell me so far?”

Tony opened the file he carried, though Trace knew he kept most of the information in his head. “As you
already know, the good news is no one was hurt. The bad news is it was definitely arson. The guy disabled the wireless alarm before he went in—probably used some kind of sophisticated software. Same with the cameras.”

“I was afraid of that.” Recently, Trace had used the same technique in Mexico on a rescue mission he had undertaken with his friends Dev Raines, Johnnie Riggs and Jake Cantrell. The high-tech gear had gotten them inside a fortified compound and into the sprawling mansion where a missing little girl was being held. Unfortunately, they’d had to shoot their way out.

“The perp went in through the sliding glass door,” Ramirez was saying. “Started the fire in the studio. Multiple points of origin. Gasoline used as the accelerant. He opened the windows for ventilation. He really knew what he was doing. The whole damn room went up all at once.”

“Definitely a pro.”

Tony nodded. “He’s a professional, all right, and way better than most. And here’s the kicker. From the looks of it, the fire couldn’t have been burning more than a few minutes when the 911 call came in. The station’s just a couple of blocks away, but by the time the first truck arrived, the caller was already gone. The way it looks, there’s a good chance the caller is the guy who set the fire.”

“He wanted the fire boys to get there. He wanted the studio to burn, but not the whole house. He wasn’t after the woman and her baby.”

“I think he went out of his way to keep people from getting hurt, or setting the other apartments on fire. The way the blaze was constructed, it was meant to flash inward, taking out the room but not immediately burn
ing into the unit next door. It would have, sooner rather than later. And with fire, there’s always a chance something will go wrong. There’s no safe way to commit arson.”

“So there was the risk of loss of life, but the odds were in his favor.”

“That’s about it. Like I said, this guy’s really good at what he does.”

Trace leaned back in his chair. “Doesn’t read like Maggie’s stalker. What are the odds some nut job who has the hots for her is also a high-dollar torch?”

“Could be her nut job put up the money.”

Trace pondered that. “Could be, but I don’t see it.”

“So what then? Someone with a grudge against Maggie?”

“I’ve been working that angle. So far it’s led nowhere. A lot of people know about the stalker. Police, friends, people we’ve questioned. Maybe somebody wanted to jump on the bandwagon. Destroy her work and let the stalker take the blame.”

“I hear she’s pretty successful. Maybe someone doesn’t like the competition.”

“Maybe.”

Tony stood up and Trace did, too. “Thanks, Tony. I appreciate the information.”

“Hey, we’re both on the same side.” Ramirez stuck out a meaty hand and Trace shook it. “Take care of Ms. O’Connell. This may not be over yet.”

Trace clenched his jaw. It wasn’t over. But he was determined it would be. And soon.

Their arms loaded with bags and boxes, Maggie and Ashley returned to Trace’s house late in the afternoon.
Carrying another load of packages, Jason walked them to the door, and Trace pulled it open.

He smiled. “Welcome home.”

Maggie’s eyes widened at the sight of him cradling little Robbie against his broad chest.

“What in the world…”

“Annie had some things to do at the office. I was heading home so we swapped places.”

Maggie looked at Ashley, Ashley looked at her and both burst out laughing.

One of Trace’s eyebrows went up. “What? You didn’t think I could change a diaper?” His mouth quirked. “I managed to figure it out.”

Dropping her package, Ashley reached for the baby, and Trace gently handed him over. “Thanks, Trace,” she exclaimed. “You’ve really been terrific.”

“Not a problem.”

Maggie gazed up at her tough Texas cowboy, thought of the way he’d looked standing there with a tiny baby in his arms and felt a tug at her heart. She had never met any man like him.

Jason cleared his throat, making his presence known. “So what about Ashley using my friend’s apartment?” he asked hopefully.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Trace said. “Until we know what’s going on, Ashley and Robbie are safer staying somewhere Maggie isn’t.”

Jason grinned ear to ear. He turned to Ashley, who held her son in the crook of her arm. “I’ve got access to the key. I can help you move in whenever you’re ready.”

“The sooner the better,” Trace said.

“I’m working tomorrow night.” Ashley smoothed a hand over the sleeping baby’s head. “I called Mrs. Epstein. She says her house is still a little smoky, but
the fire department says it’s safe. She’s all set to take care of Robbie. I guess there’s no reason for me to stay here.” She held up one of the shopping bags, jiggled it and grinned. “Besides, I’m already packed.”

Trace chuckled. “You and Maggie should be able to get back in the town house in a day or two. Maggie can give you a call when we get the word.”

“Great.”

The women searched through the bags, separating the items they had purchased, the baby clothes, pairs of shoes, slacks, blouses, jeans and T-shirts. Then Jason carried Ashley’s share out to his car and returned for her and Robbie.

Maggie hugged her sister goodbye. Swept by a sudden sense of loss, she felt tears burn behind her eyes. “Call me or I’ll call you. We need to keep in touch.”

“I’ll call, I promise.”

Another quick hug, then Ashley and Robbie were gone. Jason closed the door and followed them across the porch.

Maggie felt a wave of sadness. Everything seemed topsy-turvy, weirdly upside down. Her house was destroyed, her sister once more living out of a suitcase. She felt like sitting down and having a good, long cry.

She sensed Trace’s presence behind her. His arm slid around her waist, drawing her against him. “She’ll be all right. Jason’s a good kid. He’ll make sure she’s got everything she needs.”

Maggie turned, managed a smile. “I like him. I know Ash does, too.”

Trace ran a finger along her jaw. “It’s gonna be all right.”

She nodded, but in her heart, she didn’t really believe it.

“Come to bed with me,” Trace said softly. “I promise to make you forget all this, at least for a while.”

Her throat ached. She needed him and somehow he knew. Instead of a reply, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Trace kissed her back, lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

True to his word, at least for a while, he made her forget.

R
ichard Meyers stood in the shadows beneath the bridge. With the moon hidden beneath a layer of heavy black clouds, the darkness felt as thick as the humid air. Night sounds intruded: the rustle of leaves, a rodent scurrying through the dirt along the creek bed, the sighing of the wind through the branches of the trees.

He was a few miles out of the city on a two-lane road to nowhere, exactly the place the phone call he’d received had instructed him to be. Richard didn’t mind the inconvenience. The job he had commissioned had been completed exactly as planned. The man he had hired was worth every penny.

He spotted the shadowy figure approaching out of the darkness. Same long trench coat with the collar turned up, same narrow-brimmed fedora pulled low across the face. Last time, Richard had fought not to laugh at the ridiculous costume. Tonight he felt like grinning in sheer relief.

“You got the money?” the man asked in a voice that sounded slightly rusty.

Richard handed him the envelope, the second install
ment of their arrangement, fifteen thousand more in hundred-dollar bills. Thirty thousand was a hefty sum, but he’d wanted to hire the best. Apparently, he had.

The man stuffed the envelope into the inside pocket of the trench coat. “Looks like our business is finished.”

“Yes. Thank you.” He couldn’t believe he was thanking someone for committing arson. But since that night at the marina, everything in his life had changed.

The man made no reply, just turned and walked away, the bottom of his trench coat flapping as he headed into the night and disappeared into a copse of trees along the road.

It was over. They were safe. For the first time in weeks, he could look forward again, instead of backward.

Richard breathed a long sigh of relief.

Maggie heard the knock and hurried to the door. Trace’s security system was activated. He had shown her how to use it and assured her that once it was set, no one would be able to get inside the house undetected. She wasn’t expecting a visitor. Trace was working at his office. She and Rowdy were the only ones at home.

The dog stood beside her, his ears perked up, black-and-white head tilted toward the sound of someone on the porch. Only a little uneasy, she peered through the peephole and let out a little whoop of glee.

Punching in the alarm code, she hurriedly opened the door. “Roxanne! I can’t believe you’re here! Good Lord, when I called this morning, I didn’t expect you to get on a plane and fly home!”

The tall, statuesque brunette walked into the living room and drew Maggie into a hug. “Are you kidding?
You didn’t think I’d want to come back when I found out someone was trying to murder my best friend?”

Maggie sighed. “I don’t think he was trying to kill me,” she said, leading Roxy toward the kitchen. “I wasn’t even there that night.” She had called Roxanne in New York that morning. After everything that had happened, she found herself desperately in need of a friend.

“I hung up on him,” she continued. “I guess it made him mad and he wanted to punish me.”

“Punish you? You haven’t done anything wrong! I hope they find the prick and somebody shoots him.”

Maggie laughed. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to come back, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

Roxy smiled. “Me, too.” She rolled those haughty blue eyes and fluffed the smooth dark hair curled under at her shoulders. “Besides, I was getting bored. How much shopping can one woman do?”

Maggie grinned, feeling better than she had in days. “Trace is down at his office. How about a glass of iced tea?”

Her friend scoffed. “I’d rather have a martini, darling, but at this hour, I suppose iced tea will have to do.” While she sat down at the Formica-topped kitchen table, Maggie filled two glasses with ice and added sweet tea she took from the fridge. Then she carried the glasses over and settled across from her.

“I think it’s time you told me what’s going on,” Rox said. She glanced around Trace’s tidy, masculine home. “Looks like a lot has changed since I left.”

Maggie took a sip of tea. “I guess you could say that. I’ve got a family I didn’t expect, the second floor of my house is a smoking pile of rubble and whoever did it is still out there somewhere.” They had talked on
the phone, but now she went into detail, bringing her friend up to date on the stalker, her sister and the baby, Jason Sommerset, and the fire.

“You aren’t talking about
the
Jason Sommerset, son of the late Hewitt Sommerset?”

“One and the same,” Maggie said. “Jason’s a friend of Trace’s. He’s taken Ashley under his protection. My sister is beautiful, Rox. And she’s really sweet. Jason seems to have a terrible crush on her.”

“Well, she could certainly do worse than the heir to Sommerset Industries.”

“It’s funny. I don’t think my sister cares how much money Jason has. She’s had some bad times. The baby’s father was a real loser. She just wants someone who will treat her well.”

Maggie went on to tell Roxanne about the apartment Jason had arranged for Ash and Robbie till things got back to normal. “Ashley called when she got there, all excited. I guess the apartment’s a real showplace. She says it has marble floors, an entertainment room the size of a small theater and gold nozzles in the bathrooms—of which there are many. It’s a nice treat for her.”

And Ashley having a place to stay would give Maggie time to work things out. Rebuilding the town house was going to take weeks, maybe longer. She needed to find somewhere else for them to live until it was finished, but she couldn’t even do that until they caught the stalker.

“Jason Sommerset has all the money in the world,” Roxanne said, “but as far as I know he’s stayed out of trouble. No drunk driving, no rehab, nothing like that.”

“He seems really great. I’m not sure how Ashley feels about him. I guess time will tell.”

“I guess it will.” Roxanne sipped her tea and gri
maced, clearly wishing it was alcoholic. “You’ve done a great job of telling me everything, darling, but you managed to leave one small thing out.”

“What’s that?”

“The cowboy. You’re living in his house. You aren’t going to tell me nothing’s going on between you.”

Maggie’s face went warm. “We’re, um, involved, I guess you could say. Mostly it’s just physical.”

Roxanne eyed her assessingly. “Really?”

“Well, mostly. You said yourself the guy was a major hunk.”

“So I did and so he is, but doing the dirty just for the sake of it isn’t your usual style. Are you sure there isn’t more to it?”

Maggie drew a circle in the frosty wetness on her glass. “I hope not. I mean, getting seriously involved with someone is the last thing I want.”

“Sometimes things just happen.”

“I suppose. Trace is pretty amazing. To tell you the truth, I’m doing my best not to fall in love with him.”

Roxanne cocked a dark eyebrow. “Where’s the fun in that, darling? Falling in love is what life’s all about.”

“Maybe. But sometimes there are other considerations.”

“Such as…?”

“Such as…what if I’m like my mother, Rox? Celeste’s a runner, you know? Whenever things go wrong, she just up and leaves. She ran from my dad, ran from her second husband. Now she’s run off and left Ashley’s father. So far, that’s what I’ve always done. I run whenever things get too involved. I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I ever let myself truly fall in love.”

Roxanne reached over and caught her hand. “I’m not the person to be giving you advice. I’ve been in love
more times than I can count—which means I’ve never really been in love at all. But I believe if Mr. Right comes along, somehow you’ll know. And you won’t have any desire to run away from him.”

Maggie made no reply. She had a history of hurting the men she cared about. First Josh, then Michael, then David. She didn’t want Trace to be another casualty of her changeable affections.

On the other hand, Trace’s sexual history included a failed marriage and a string of redheads he cast aside like worn-out boots.

She didn’t want to suffer that fate, either.

“For the moment, we’re just enjoying each other,” she finally said.

“And he’s keeping you safe.”

“That’s right.” But her heart was definitely at risk. There wasn’t the least amount of safety in falling in love with Trace Rawlins.

Roxanne stood up. “I guess I’d better get going. I’m beat and have lots of unpacking to do. If you need a place to stay, just let me know.”

“Thanks, Rox.”

“I expect to hear from you every couple of days. If you don’t call, I’ll be calling you. Just remember, I’m here if you need me.”

Maggie walked her to the door and the women hugged.

“Take care of yourself, darling. Keep in touch.”

Maggie managed to smile. “I will.” But she was thinking of what Roxanne and Ashley both had said, and trying to convince herself Trace wasn’t Mr. Right.

Ashley showed up early for work Friday night. The Texas Café was already full, customers laughing and
talking in their pink vinyl booths, couples sitting at scarred wooden tables. Platters of spaghetti, burgers and fries, and homemade pie and ice cream slid out through the service window behind the long food service counter lined with pink vinyl stools.

On the way to the café, she had dropped the baby off at Mrs. Epstein’s, whose house smelled a little like smoked sausage, but had suffered no real damage and was slowly airing out. Though her battered old Chevy sat in the underground garage of her borrowed apartment, Jason had insisted on driving her to work. He had dropped her off in front of the café with a promise to return at the end of her shift.

Ashley thought of him as she worked over the grill next to Betty Sparks, the gray-haired woman who owned the restaurant. Betty was instructing her on how to broil the perfect burger. Ashley was eager to learn.

“You have to start with good meat,” Betty said. “That’s the secret. Good meat cooked just right—not too done, not too rare. Then a good, sturdy sesame seed bun. Got to have the seeds to make it right.”

She was learning to make chili, and how to deep-fry fish and chips. She could make gourmet meals, but was learning the basics of how to cook for a crowd, how to handle the pressure and make everything come off the grill at the right time.

“I gotta check on things out front,” Betty said, wiping her hands on a dishrag. “Don’t worry, you’re doin’ just fine.”

Ashley nodded. Filling in for the regular cook while he was taking care of his sick mother, she was only a little nervous at being left on her own. It was hot and moist in the kitchen, with steam coming off the steam tables, smoke off the grill, but she loved being there,
loved that she was turning her life around, working toward her goals, making a future for herself and little Robbie.

An order for chicken fried steak came in. Betty had shown her how to use the café’s premade flour mix to coat the meat patty. Ashley smiled when it came out of the pan perfectly golden-brown. A ladle of thick white, country sausage gravy went on top, a ladle of buttery corn, and she slid the plate through the service window for one of the waitresses to pick up.

She turned the stainless-steel wheel to check the next order, made a pair of creamy chocolate shakes, then returned to the grill for two more medium-rare burgers.

It was almost the end of her shift when the bell above the door rang and a new customer walked in. Ashley started at the sight of the thin, exotically handsome man with high cheekbones and thick black hair pulled back in a queue at the nape of his neck and tied with a leather thong. He wore black jeans and a leather vest with nothing underneath but a string of silver beads.

He looked like a rock star and she knew him instantly as the man who had fathered her baby.
Ziggy.

There he was, a vision out of her past who had stepped into the new life she was building. She wanted to wring his neck.

She leaned through the service window behind the front counter and spoke to Betty. “Would it be okay if I took a quick break? I’ve got a problem I need to deal with.”

“Why, sure, honey.” Betty’s sharp eyes went to Ziggy, who sauntered over to the counter and sat down on one of the round, padded stools. “I’ll take over until you get finished.”

Ashley untied the strings of her white cotton apron and drew it off over her head, then walked out of the kitchen, heading toward the man at the counter.

Ziggy stood up as she approached. “Hey, babe.” His black eyes raked her. “You’re lookin’ fine. Never know you just had a kid.”

“That was three months ago, Ziggy. What the fuck are you doing here?” She winced as she slipped into her old self and said a word she hadn’t used in months.

“What do mean, sweetheart? I came to see
you
—and our son, of course.”

“Bullshit, Ziggy. How did you find me?”

“I talked to Tommy. Megan said you called and told her about your new job.”

Megan Wiseman had been her closest friend in Florida. They hadn’t talked in weeks, but the day Ashley had gotten her job at the café, she’d been so excited she had called her. Now she realized her mistake. Megan’s boyfriend, Tommy Jensen, was a good friend of Ziggy’s.

“So is that it?” she said. “You found out I was working, so you came here to hit me up for money?”

He clamped his hands dramatically over his heart. “You wound me, babe. I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

“I’m fine, Ziggy. I’m working—as you can see—and I’m doing just great. Now go away and leave me alone.”

“You don’t mean that, sweetheart.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. Ashley knocked his hand away. “I’m your child’s father,” he said. “And you know how much I’ve always loved you.”

“The only person you love is yourself, Ziggy. That’s the way it was. The way it always will be. Now get out of here. Get out of my life before I do something I’ll regret.”

A familiar blond head appeared over Ziggy’s shoulder. He was taller by a couple of inches and, in a completely opposite way, even better looking. And unlike her ex-boyfriend’s arrival, just seeing him made Ashley’s heart swell.

“You heard the lady,” Jason said. “I’d advise you to leave. Now.”