Killing Bliss (29 page)

God, what had she been thinking. "Leave it that way, Toby. Don't rent any more cabins, and put out the No Vacancy sign." She should have thought about this sooner. Dear God, if something did happen here in the next day or two, the last thing she wanted was a motel full of guests. Damn, if her brain weren't so full of Cade Harding, she would have thought of it sooner, and she wouldn't have checked the Brentons in.

"Are you crazy, girl? You can't afford that." Toby looked as if she'd asked him to burn the place down at midnight.

If he didn't like the first suggestion, he was going to hate her next one. "And, uh, it might be a good idea if you took a few days off, maybe go visit friends in Seattle."

He stared at her, his mouth slack. "You are crazy."

"Just do what I ask, okay?"

"You firing me?"

She went to where he sat and rested her hands on his shoulders, a gesture she'd not have made a few days ago. "Of course I'm not firing you. But there's going to be some things happening around here, and I'll need my, uh, privacy." Lame, but the best she could do.

Toby looked at her for a too-long time. "That check I did on that Cade fellow—you hear what you wanted to hear?"

"Uh-huh."

"This no-vacancy business have something to do with him?"

She hesitated, not sure what to say. "In away."

Toby's lips curved. "All right, then. It's about time you had yourself some man fun."

"It's not that, it's..." Wanting to explain, but unable to, she stopped. She'd let Toby think what he chose to think, and if everything worked out, she'd fill him in later. For now, ignorance was bliss. She'd never thought before how very true that statement was.

"I'll put that No Vacancy sign out right now, sweetums." He got up. "Anything else before I take off?"

"No, Toby... and thanks."

He opened the door, stood there and smiled again, his gray head bobbing. "You have a good time, hear?"

"I will." She went back to stare dully at the indecipherable guest register and to worry. This morning, she'd trusted Cade Harding with her life and with Gus and Beauty's lives, and she'd thought of nothing else since. When she'd told him what was going on, what she wanted from him, he'd gone deathly still, and her stomach had tangled so badly she thought it would never unfurl. Then he'd said he'd think about her plan, which he was probably doing right now, while running like a big dark cat around the fringe of Star Lake.

Her throat, filled with wishes and fears, seized up tight, and she looked toward the door of her apartment; behind it were her bags, packed and ready to go.

So what will you choose, Professor? To aid and abet a woman wanted as an accomplice to murder, or will you call the cops, tell them "who's coming to dinner" at Star Lake, and go back to your upright, error-free life with a clear conscience?

Chapter 19

"Going somewhere, slut?"

The voice, a whisper from beside her, nearly made Beauty come out of her skin. Bliss.

How could she have not noticed him? She tried to keep moving, but he was too quick; his hand snaked out, shackled her wrist. And it was her own dam fault.

How could she have been so stupid. Feeling stir-crazy and edgy, she'd decided to chance the hotel dining room for an early dinner, sure it would be hours before Bliss arrived in Seattle.

"Surprised to see me, baby?" He squeezed her too-rapid pulse.

"Nope, disappointed it happened so soon." She tried to pull her wrist free.

"How about this for coincidence? I'm in the room across the hall from you." He gave a wolfish grin. "Gotta take care of my investment."

"Let me go, Bliss."

"Sit down." His voice was low and easy, a mockery of affable. "I'll buy you dinner."

She glared at him, ignored the tremors in her stomach, and said, "I don't think so. Sitting with you, there's always the chance I'll upchuck on the table—make a scene." She tugged her wrist again, but he only tightened his grasp.

"I said sit." He waved his other hand to encompass the busy dining room. "I figure we'll both be safe enough. Me from that fancy piece you're carrying and you from my—what is it women call them—unwanted advances." He snorted. "Like any woman isn't panting for it all the time."

Beauty considered making the scene she threatened him with but decided against it. Too risky. Chances were they'd both end up in jail. She wouldn't see Gus. She slid into the padded booth.

"We made our arrangement, Bliss," she said. "So what the hell do you want from me?"

Before he answered, a server came and filled her water glass, handed her a menu. She muttered her thanks.

"You mean other than to hump you?"

She picked up the water, drank to drown the nausea. "Other than that."

"I've been thinking—"

"I'm sorry, it must be hard for you." She laced her fingers together on the tabletop; her palms were fear-damp.

"Funny." He didn't laugh. "I've been thinking about the night dear old Mom... passed over, as they say."

"Ah, a trip down memory lane, how sweet. You always were such a doting son."

Bliss leaned over and filled her wineglass. "Shut the fuck up and listen, will you?" He growled. "Be a little friendly. I've got some questions. That's all. So relax."

She eyed the red wine he'd poured. She really shouldn't drink, not with Bliss. She'd sip. Just sip. It would calm her nerves. She picked it up, looked at him over its rim. "That sub-Neanderthal brain of yours must have nothing but questions." She took another sip, already feeling better.

He gave her a filthy look, then said. "The question is about the kid."

"What kid?" Cold washed over her, a faint damp rain of it.

"I don't know his damn name. The boy that Grover brought in the day Mom bought the farm."

She took another drink, this one more than a sip. "What about him?"

"Do you know where Vanelleto dumped him after you—"

She started to get up, and his hand shot across the table with the speed and agility of a striking cobra, forced her down. Her body was on fire as if pinned by a thousand needles. "I don't know anything about that kid."

"I think you do, Beauty."

"Well, you're wrong—as usual."

"I'm not wrong about there being some serious cash to be made if someone knows the whereabouts of that kid's body."

"There's no body." As usual, she sounded surer than she felt.

"Yeah? If there's no goddamn body, then there's a living, breathin' kid around somewhere, which I seriously doubt." He fixed his gaze on her, his mouth a hard seam. "But I'll buy into it, babe, if you tell me where that kid might be."

She said nothing, because she had nothing to say. First Addy had asked her about the boy, and now this piece of filth. She had no answer for either of them, because she didn't know, had never known. And she'd lived with the curse of not knowing every day of her life ever since that night.

Everything happened so fast. Huddled, sick and hurting, in that bedroom, terrified the shrieking boy would attract Belle's attention, bring her and Frank into the room, she'd picked up the crying boy. He'd been left in the room for hours without being changed; his head was white hot, and he smelled like pee and vomit. She remembered thinking he must be really sick.

But all she'd wanted to do was make him stop screaming, screaming, screaming...

She trembled, drank some wine. The images of that night in black and white like a batch of photographs fanned so fast they became a jumble.

There'd been the... pillow thing, Gus's shocked curse, "Jesus, Beauty. What are you doing?"

Him yanking the bod—baby from her arms, his eyes cool and hot at the same time, his voice ragged. "Don't worry," he'd said. "I'll take care of it. Just get the hell out of this house. Wait for me by the shed. I'll find you."

He never did. It was the last time she ever saw him.

Bliss snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You with me, sweetheart?"

She blinked at him.

"I asked you if you knew where that kid ended up."

"No."

He eyed her coldly. "Maybe you don't get it, but that kid is worth some real change—dead or alive. That old lady's been looking for him for—what?—fifteen years, willing to pay big-time."

"What old lady?"

"The kid's grandma, a rich bitch on a mission, that's for sure."

The baby had a grandma... family.

Feeling as though she were going to be sick, Beauty downed the last of her wine, and to avoid his revolting touch, kept her hands under the table as she finally escaped the booth. "Thanks for the wine, asshole." She didn't give him a chance to answer. Turning from his handsome face, she walked quickly to the elevator.

Back in her room, she leaned against the door and panted like a dog on a hot afternoon. She used the rigid length of the door to straighten her own back, then slid to the floor and hugged her knees.

"Dear God, Addy, call me, please. Tell me Gus is here—that he'll make Bliss go away. Tell me everything is going to be all right."

After a few minutes, and a wild crying jag, she got to her feet and went to the phone.

Beauty wasn't a woman to cry in her beer, but an expensive merlot? Definitely.

She brushed the dampness from her cheeks, called room service, and though certain she wouldn't eat, ordered dinner and enough wine to swim in. Her watery gaze shifted to the security locks on her door.

Bliss. Across the hall.

She shuddered, knew she wouldn't leave this room until she'd heard from Addy and knew for sure Gus was in Seattle.

She wished she could make things right, shout to the world that neither Gus nor Addy had killed anyone.

Too bad she wasn't so sure about herself.

* * *

"I want to talk to her," Susan said—again. "I don't care what you say, Cade. I think talking one woman to another—especially when it concerns the well-being of a child—makes perfect sense. All this plotting and planning is a waste of time. Besides, do we even know for sure if the other two will show up?" She was agitated and it showed.

Stan looked at Cade, raised a brow. "She's got a point. It could work."

Cade dragged up the last of his patience. They'd been circling Susan's argument for half an hour. Time was running short, and the one thing he didn't want was for Addy to find them huddled together like some goddamn secret society. Hell, bad enough he'd brought Stan and Susan here without telling her. He intended it to be the last of his deceits.

"She does
not
have a point, Stan." Cade argued, then turned to Susan. "And Bliss and Beauty will show up. Bliss for the cash he expects to be paid, and Beauty because—according to Addy—she'd walk over hot coals to see Vanelleto again. You go barging up there, start asking questions, and not only will she bolt, there's no doubt she'll get in touch with the others. Plus—as I've told you, Susan-—Addy says she does not know what happened to Josh. On that point, she's as much in the dark as all of us."

"And you believe her?"

"She asked for my help, remember? Trusted me enough to tell me about her friends, what's about to happen at Star Lake." Cade said. "So, yes, I believe her. Even if I didn't, at this point I wouldn't risk calling her a liar."

"She also said she and her 'friends' didn't kill Belle Bliss," Stan interjected, calmly. "A witness says otherwise."

"A witness with a history of violence, distorting the truth, and a thirst for revenge. Not to mention a very strong desire to cover up his own actions on that day, which included the rape of Dianna Lintz."

Stan shrugged. "That may be, but it will be interesting to hear his side of it firsthand."

Cade jumped on that. "Which we won't, if you"—he nodded at Susan, sitting on the bed with her arms crossed—"follow through with the woman-to-woman thing. Do that and Addy's long gone, taking Bliss, Vanelleto, and Beauty with her."

"You're damn sure of yourself, Cade," she grumbled.

"I'm sure of Addy, her sense of loyalty"—
however misguided.
"She asked for my help to prevent a murder, not hang her friends out to dry for a killing she says they had no part in."