Found Wanting (42 page)

She turned her hand so their fingers could tangle. Her heart hadn't stopped racing since they'd left the cabin, and it wasn't just because of Chuck's mysterious summons. Mitch had said that he loved her. No, he'd said, "I think I love you." So that meant he wasn't entirely sure. And, of course, he'd said it right after a powerful climax, and she figured that could probably skew a man's thinking. It certainly had scrambled hers, perhaps was still scrambling it.

Love.

The thought of it gave her chills. A man in love with her. And not just any man. Mitch Kane. The hunkiest guy by far that she had ever met. Kind, too. Considerate. Thoughtful. Honest. If circumstances were different, she would have been doing somersaults. Yet, if circumstances were different, they never would have met.

And, really, what kind of relationship could they possibly develop? Once he helped her get Jonah back, it would have to end. She and Jonah would be back on the run, and she couldn't expect Mitch to give up his identity, his detective business, his plans to reconnect with his son. And he'd have to, because Layton would never stop hunting. He'd use everything he could against them, including Mitch's son.

Plus, it would be far easier to track down three people than it was to track two. She and Jonah alone stood a much better chance of disappearing again, but adding to the equation ... that would make it tougher. Tougher for them, easier for Layton.

So love wasn't an option. Not for them.

Not for her.

She had accepted that once. It shouldn't be that difficult to accept it again. Except now she would know what she was missing ...

Mitch squeezed her hand. "Ready to go in?"

She glanced at him, her lungs constricting at the concern in his beautiful dark eyes. She wanted to touch his face, press her palm to his lightly bearded cheek, memorize his features. We still have time, she told herself. It's not over yet.

Slowly, she nodded. "I'm ready."

* * *

They walked, hands linked, into the lobby. At the concierge desk, Mitch greeted an impeccably dressed middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a black bow-tie. Alaina thought he looked ready to attend a ball.

"You have an envelope for Jack Palatine?" Mitch asked.

The man handed over a legal-size envelope with the name Jack Palatine scrawled across the front. On the elevator, Alaina watched Mitch tear it open.

"How'd you know what name to use?" she asked.

"Jack Palatine was the name we used when we babysat the witness," he replied as a key card slid into his hand.

As the elevator stopped at the twelfth floor, she noticed the card had no identifying numbers or markings on it. "And the room number?"

"Chuck told me on the phone." He guided her out into the hall with a hand at her elbow, as if ready to jerk her behind him if all hell broke loose.

"On the phone? Isn't that unsafe?"

"He didn't mention a hotel or a room, or at least what would have sounded like a room. He told me twelve-fifteen, which anyone listening should have assumed meant the time." He paused before a door. "This is it."

Before he could use the key card, though, the door opened, and Chuck waved them in. "Thanks for coming so fast," the agent said.

The room contained a Mission-style queen-size bed, desk, comforting muted yellow walls and a hunter green sofa. Large windows looked out over trees and a busy highway. Next to them, a minibar stood against the wall, its door hanging open, tiny, empty, wine bottles scattered across the top.

Tensing, Alaina turned, and sure enough, her sister came walking out of the bathroom.

Addison's appearance shocked her -- her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, dark circles underscoring them. She wore no makeup, and her hair was in desperate need of a brush. Her teal wrap dress looked like she'd slept in it.

Addison fixed Alaina with a burning glare. "You," she said, taking a jerky step toward her. Venom dripped from the one word. "Did you think no one would ever find out?"

Alaina smelled the alcohol on her sister's breath, heard the slight slurring of her words. She glanced at Chuck, hoping to get some background on Addison's mood. "What's going on?"

"Don't talk to him," Addison snapped. "Talk to me."

Mitch cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should tell us what this is about."

Alaina felt him behind her, close enough that his heat seemed to envelop her, reminding her that she wasn't alone. Not anymore. At least for now.

Chuck said to Mitch, "We've got the room next door, too. Let's let them talk."

"I'm not going anywhere just yet," Mitch replied mildly.

"I'll wait for you over there then," Chuck said, and made a hasty exit.

Addison walked up to Alaina, trembling, eyes spitting rage. "Jonah isn't Layton's kid."

Alaina didn't flinch, having learned long ago how to withstand Addison's attacks. The skill had not grown rusty. Besides, this wasn't the first time, or even fifth, that she'd heard those words come out of her sister's mouth. It disappointed her, though, that it appeared that whatever insight Addison had gained before their earlier meeting had vanished. Denial. Addison had it down to an art.

At Alaina's lack of immediate response, Addison's face reddened. "Don't just stand there and look at me."

Alaina kept her expression bland. "What do you want me to say?"

"You lying bitch!" Addison struck out, lightning quick.

Alaina staggered back a step, stunned by the stinging attack.

As if the slap had broken loose an avalanche of violent rage, Addison surged forward, her fingers like claws hooking into the front of Alaina's shirt. Before Alaina could do anything more than recoil, Mitch lunged between them. Hauling Addison off, he backed her against the wall and held her there by the arms. "Don't you ever touch her like that again," he said in a low, menacing voice. "She's too civil to make you regret it, but I'm not."

Alaina watched in shock, her hand pressed to her burning cheek. He was terrifying, she thought. Absolutely terrifying.

Addison gaped up at him, her face a livid red. She tried to break his restraint to no avail. "Who the hell are you?"

He held her calmly, almost gently. "Someone you really don't want to mess with," he said. "Do we have an understanding?"

Again, she yanked against his grasp. "Let me go."

"Not until we have an understanding."

"Fine."

He released her, then turned to Alaina, and the fury burning in his coffee-colored eyes died away. Calmly, as if he hadn't just threatened her sister, he stroked his knuckles down her arm. "You okay?"

She nodded, her stomach flipping as it sank in that what Addison had said hadn't fazed him in the least. He had defended her without hesitation. And, oh, how he had defended her. If Addison had been a man, Alaina was certain her sister would be flat on her back with her eyes rolled back in her head. Alaina took a moment to savor this new and unfamiliar sensation.

Until Addison, her back still against the wall, began to sneer. "You can hide behind your hero all you want, but you can't ignore me, Alaina. There's a blood test."

Alaina shifted her gaze over Mitch's shoulder to her sister. This was also something new. "What are you talking about?"

Addison gave her a nasty smile, pushing away from the wall but bringing herself up short when Mitch angled his body as if to intercept her if she made a threatening move toward her sister. Skirting Mitch, Addison said, "Layton took Jonah for a blood test. They're not a match. Plus, Layton told me he had a vasectomy before we were married."

Alaina put a hand on Mitch's arm. "Maybe you should wait with Chuck."

He didn't budge. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. He kissed her before he left the room, a casual gesture that might have been automatic for him but caught Alaina by surprise. Showing affection was so easy for him, so natural. Just knowing he cared, that he believed in her, made her feel stronger than she ever had.

But then he was gone, and she was alone with her sister, who didn't bother to hide her contempt.

"What's the matter?" Addison asked. "Don't want him to find out what a liar you are?"

Alaina leveled a cool stare at her. "Actually, I wanted to spare him the sight of you making an ass of yourself again."

Addison quivered, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Do you have any idea what my life has been like? Always wondering, always worrying about what really happened that night?"

A years-old rage began to writhe to life in the pit of Alaina's stomach, but she drew the reins of control taut before the fury could leap away from her. "I told you what happened, Addison. You didn't have to wonder."

"Didn't you hear what I just said? Jonah isn't his kid."

"Have you seen Jonah?"

Addison blinked, her brows knitting in bafflement. "Of course."

"He has his father's eyes," Alaina said. "Their blood may be incompatible in some way, but it's not because they're not father and son."

"But the vasectomy --"

"Obviously, he had it after he attacked me, if he had one at all and isn't just adding to his already impressive pile of lies." She paused. "You keep trying to make it fit. You keep making excuses for him, for yourself. He's not who you thought he was, Addison. He never has been."

Addison glared at her, emotions warring on her face. "You'll say anything to --" She broke off, seemed to hunt for words.

"To what?" Alaina asked. "Try to turn you against him? I thought hearing him tell someone to kill me had already done that."

Addison stiffened, as if the words were painful blows against her chest. Then, shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world -- or the weight of comprehension -- had just crashed down on her, she lowered herself to the green sofa. "My entire life has been a lie," she said.

The pathos in her voice did nothing to soothe the anger simmering inside Alaina. Her sister had indeed lived a lie. A lie that she had helped perpetuate at Alaina's expense. Alaina kept silent, certain that if she responded, she would lose the slippery grip she had on control.

Addison dragged a wine-colored decorative pillow onto her lap and clutched it to her chest. Her chin began to wobble, and she buried her face in the pillow. A muffled sob escaped. "He's leaving me," she said. "I'm going to be alone. That should make you happy."

There was only one thing that would make Alaina happy, only one thing she wanted from her sister. "I want my son back."

Addison raised her head, and her eyes were red and streaming. "You don't even care."

"You made a choice fifteen years ago, Addison. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you, but it's not my problem."

"How can you be so cold?"

The reins on Alaina's fury snapped tight and held. "Where is Jonah now? Is he at your house?"

Addison's gray eyes narrowed. "Why don't you say it?"

"Say what?"

"What you're thinking, what you're feeling. You hate me."

Control slipped another dangerous notch. "Yes, my entire life has revolved around how I feel about you. Now tell me where my son is."