Blue Clouds (40 page)

No sense in worrying Lillian any more than she already was. Under Pippa's constant warnings about Chad's lungs, Seth's mother had scarcely touched cigarettes in days, and she'd like to keep it that way. Pippa managed a smile. “I'm just worrying like an old mother hen. Why don't you look at those contracts? I think I'll stop in and check on Chad.”

Lillian happily carried off the contracts. Tired of listening to the constant pounding of the workmen in Seth's office, Pippa hit the voice mail button and headed for the stairs. She was halfway across the foyer when Doug opened the door to usher Dirk inside.

The detective appeared even colder and sharper than she remembered. He looked like the kind of man who would carry a knife and know how to use it. His dark eyes scanned the interior as he walked through the door, spotting Pippa instantly.

“Miss Cochran.” He halted her with just the command of his voice. “Doug tells me Mr. Wyatt isn't in. Is there any way we can reach him?”

She didn't like the shrewd way he studied her. If she were guilty of anything, she'd want to confess on the spot. But she didn't have to admit her indiscretions to him. As a matter of fact, as totem poles went, Dirk's position was probably beneath hers.

“There's a room back here away from the workmen where we can talk, Mr. Ridgewood. If you'll follow me?”

Sometimes, she really enjoyed the authority empowered by administration.

“Dirk,” he reminded her. “Please call me Dirk. It makes me sound like one of those TV hotshots.”

Pippa threw him a grin over her shoulder. “All right, so you're another man I can't hate. Come on, I'll have Nana bring us some tea. Doug, you coming?”

“You think I'm letting you handle this, girl?”

So much for administrative authority. Dirk grimaced at the tea as it was served but sipped it gingerly before he spoke.

“I've traced the UPS packages,” Dirk said after Nana left. “As far as I can tell, they appear harmless. It must have been the post office box he opened.”

“That discounts Billy,” Pippa agreed. “I just had a call this morning from the person who sent my package. Is there any way of tracing the post office package?”

Dirk squirmed in discomfort as he looked from Pippa to Doug. “I'd rather speak with Mr. Wyatt. Do you know when he will return?”

“He didn't leave word,” Doug replied stiffly.

“When he's through with his girlfriend,” Pippa answered at the same time, defiantly.

Doug threw her a glare and Dirk raised his eyebrows but neither man commented on that particular bombshell, although Pippa noted they exchanged knowing looks over her head. She wanted to smack them both.

“I think we'd better find him,” Dirk said slowly, weighing each word. “I think we have strong reason to believe the bomb was meant for him. The candy had enough poison in it to kill any ordinary man.”

Doug shot out of his seat and stormed the room. “I shouldn't have let him have it! It had no damned label! I'm just what everyone says—a worthless piece of shit.”

“Shut up, Doug,” Pippa snapped. She really snapped. All those frayed nerves wore right through. She'd been terrorized enough for a lifetime, and now she would put an end to it. She blocked his path and pounded his NFL barrel-wide chest. “Sit down and let's see what else the man has to say.”

Dirk's thin lips twisted wryly as Pippa shoved a man three times her size into the nearest chair. Doug didn't offer any real fight, but his glare alone should have sent her screaming. Hands on hips, she glared back until, deeming Doug sufficiently cowed, she turned on Dirk.

“Can the poison be traced?”

“Not easily. But toffees like that are handmade. The poison was in the coating. We're looking for manufacturers. The problem, of course, is Seth's international connections. The candy may not have come from L.A.”

“It was mailed from L.A.,” Doug growled. “It didn't have a return label, but it had a postmark. We just figured it came from his lawyer or something.”

“Then we'll know more shortly. Did Seth give you that report I sent him the other day?”

Doug rolled his big shoulders and shot Pippa an uneasy glance. “Yeah.”

More secrets no one wanted to tell her. Fine, then. She was just a glorified secretary. Why should she know? Or care? But she cared, damn it. She cared too much. That was half her problem. She couldn't let anything happen to Seth. It would devastate Chad.

“So, don't tell me what was in the report.” She threw up her hands and paced. “For all we know, someone tried to bomb that report out of existence. Why should that matter to me? I'll just go wash Chad's hair.”

Doug snickered. Less experienced in Pippa's manipulations, Dirk jumped to his feet and halted her escape.

“Not yet, Miss Cochran. It's possible someone intended to destroy Seth's mail along with him. You're quite right. Sit down, please.”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Doug murmured in Dirk's direction. “You're as bad as Seth.” He grinned at Pippa. “Seth just didn't want you knowin' he's checkin' up on your Billy friend. You already know about the Witch and the Serpent.”

Natalie and Darius, the Witch and the Serpent. Doug had been reading too many of Chad's storybooks. Pippa wanted to grin back at him, but she just couldn't manage it. She collapsed in a chair and dug her fingers into her hair. “What about Taylor Morgan and his crowd? Has anyone looked into them? After what the lawyer said the other night, I'd think they'd be prime suspects.”

“Morgan is,” Dirk acknowledged. “He's leveraged the bank beyond industry standards, and the auditors are circling like buzzards. The company he's wanting to bring in here is cash heavy. If Seth interferes with the acquisition, he could bring the bank tumbling down around Morgan's ears.”

Pippa gasped. “What will that do to the town? Will the investors lose their money?”

“Seth ain't gonna let that happen,” Doug scoffed. “He's just gonna make Morgan twist in the wind awhile. The man's got a mean streak when it comes to Morgan.”

Seth probably had a right to despise Morgan, but that
mean streak
could get him killed. Doug didn't seem overly concerned. Pippa struggled between ragged nerves and common sense. “Maybe we should spread a rumor that Seth's bringing the plant here. Maybe that would keep Morgan away for a while, until we can find out who sent those packages.”

“That would take out at least one potential danger,” Dirk agreed. “But we'd better check with Mr. Wyatt before spreading rumors. He might have other ideas.”

“Like going to L.A. without a bodyguard.” Pippa sent Doug a fuming look. “Have you reached his girlfriend yet? Or does she want to kill him, too?”

“I figure you're more likely to do that than she is. She ain't got the guts. And I wouldn't precisely call her a girlfriend neither.” Edgy, Doug didn't rise to her bait. He punched his fist repeatedly into his palm but didn't seem to realize he was doing it.

Pippa grabbed the cordless telephone when it rang. At the sound of Seth's voice on the other end, she nearly fell to her knees in thanksgiving. “Seth, you have to get back here at once. Billy didn't send that bomb.”

***

Seth heard the fear in Pippa's voice and froze. He didn't immediately make the connection between her words and himself. He simply heard her fear and cursed for not being with her. He could protect himself, but Pippa couldn't.

Eventually, her words sank in. As his fear for Pippa subsided, Seth relaxed enough to grin and wink at his lawyer across the desk from him. “All right, Miss Worrywart, I'll check Morris for handguns and bazookas before I leave. I won't see anyone more deadly than the L.A. freeway before I get home, I promise. Tell Dirk to put tails on Natalie and Morgan and maybe Darius, just for fun. If we catch him with one of the high school girls, Nat will be so busy nailing his hide to the wall, she won't have time for me.” He hung up before she could argue.

Morris shook his head worriedly. “If Miss Cochran was warning you, you should pay attention. You would be amazed at the number of contract killings coming through the courts these days. A man as prominent as yourself should always take precautions.”

“I'm scarcely a notable personage,” Seth scoffed, standing. “No one connects Tarant Mott with Seth Wyatt, and Seth Wyatt is a recluse, remember. Only Garden Grove knows I exist anymore. I can't live behind iron doors all the time. Women like to worry. It gives them something to do.”

Actually, Seth kind of liked the idea of Pippa fretting over his health and welfare. People worrying over him didn't happen very often. He could remember weeks in that lonely hospital bed without a soul stopping in to visit. His mother had gone on a bender right after the accident, and Natalie had been as friendly as a rattlesnake. Tracey had stopped in a time or two. He supposed he owed her an explanation for breaking their date tonight, but he wasn't in the mood for explanations. He'd only made the date to let her down gently, figuring she was due that much. He could put off that scene without regret.

So, maybe he'd go home and celebrate with Pippa. If she could worry about him even when she was mad at him, maybe she could be pacified and the evening could end much more pleasurably than he'd planned.

Seth frowned as he started the Jag and eased it into traffic. The brake pedal felt mushy. He couldn't drive the hills with mushy brakes. Maybe they'd just overheated out here on the hot pavement. He'd better run it over to the dealer, just in case.

While he had the car looked at, he ought to think of some little gift Pippa would like. She didn't wear much jewelry, and she'd probably consider anything expensive a bribe. She had the scruples of a nineteenth-century schoolmarm. Sometimes.

Grinning at the memory of Pippa in his bed, her sassy hair sprawled across his pillows as she reached for him, Seth rejected the schoolmarm image. She was the one who had insisted on no strings, no commitments. She offered him every man's fantasy.

Why was it that when offered what he thought he wanted, he wanted more?

Seth glowered at the heavy traffic on the freeway as he navigated in the direction od the Jag deale. With this no strings, no commitment business, Pippa could walk out any day, take up with some other man, go back to that idiot cop if she wanted. He had no way of keeping her with him. He had never realized he had a jealous streak.

Pippa's accusations about his possessiveness had enraged him with their unjustness, but maybe she had a point. He'd never really cared when he thought Natalie was cheating on him. He didn't care if Tracey slept with every man in town. But the thought of any other man touching Pippa was making him crazy. She'd already admitted she had terrible taste in men. It wasn't possessiveness on his part, Seth rationalized. What if she hooked up with the wrong kind again? He wanted to be the one who looked after her.

He snorted. If that wasn't possessive, he didn't know what was.

Which was why she'd thrown him out of her bed in the first place. Damn. He'd spent the years since Natalie avoiding the hooks of women, and now when he found one he'd like to hang on to for a while, she didn't have a hook on her. What was wrong with the damned woman, anyway?

Nothing, probably, he realized gloomily. He was the one lacking. Money wouldn't buy Pippa. She'd hold out for pretty love words, words he didn't have in him, even if he wanted to encourage her. Which he didn't. He just wanted her in his bed every night.

Shit.

He'd buy her a bouquet. Women liked flowers. Maybe she'd even consider the gesture romantic. Maybe she'd forget his idiocy for a while. Damn it, he deserved a celebration and he wanted to celebrate with Pippa. He'd buy champagne, too.

Spotting a hole in the traffic, Seth swerved the Jag across two lanes and aimed for the next exit. A truck changed lanes and lurched in front of him. Seth slammed his brake.

The brake pedal hit the floor without stopping.

Oh, damn, not like this—

He jerked the wheel to the right, grabbed the emergency brake, and pulled.

The Jag sailed off the freeway and toward the ramp below, nose first.

Images of that long-ago night, flying off a cliff and into a tree, swept through Seth's mind before the car smacked the pavement and he thought of nothing more.

***

An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Closer, a steady drip, drip annoyed his sleep. Pain shot through his head. Seeking the comfort of the fog of narcotics, he tossed restlessly. His arms wouldn't move with him.

Jolted into near consciousness by the restraint, he lay still. The ambulance wailed closer. The nightmare. He was dreaming. He could sense someone's presence beside the bed. In a moment, Natalie's voice would begin its litany of guilt, cursing him for living. He couldn't bear it. Not now. His head hurt. He needed sleep.

Chad!

No, nightmare. Chad was fine, remember? Chad was with Pippa. In a moment, he would wake, and he'd see for himself. Wait, the car...