Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (30 page)

FOURTEEN

W
hy would Todd lie to her? The thought wouldn't leave her mind as she walked back to the house. Though she had no interest in dating him, she had a hard time believing he was deceitful. What was he trying to hide?

As Bailey cleared the lane and reached the footbridge leading back to Mr. Carter's estate, she saw something that made her pause. She ducked behind a tree to get a better look.

A tall man with broad shoulders and sunglasses walked from behind the house toward the beach. Bailey's gaze swung in that direction. By the pier, she spotted Ed. He stood with two other men. The three of them huddled together.

What was going on? What if Ed really wasn't trustworthy? Maybe he'd concocted a cover story that would make her heart go out to him, all the while secretly plotting schemes of his own?

Worst yet—what if he really wasn't Mr. Carter's son? After all, his dad always called him Junior, not Ed. He'd never really said his son's real name.

The possibility startled her. But, now that she thought about it, there were no pictures of him anywhere. He'd claimed he had a key that no longer worked, but what if that was a lie? His answers had been vague. He'd said nothing about his father specific enough to prove they were related.

Then again, Mr. Wilkins had recognized him. Certainly that meant that he was the real deal.

Except that old man Wilkins, by all observations, didn't have the best eyesight. He could barely empty the trash and run the riding lawn mower. Bailey had the feeling Mr. Carter had mainly kept him on staff to be kind. He mostly stood in the background, observing the work of others, hiring subcontractors and talking to his boss about fishing and politics. If there was anyone who could be fooled, it would be Mr. Wilkins.

Could one of those men who talked to Ed now be the one who'd sneaked into her room? What if Ed had hired them? What if they were all in this together, some kind of good cop/bad cop routine, and Bailey was the one with the wool pulled over her eyes?

The thought left an unsettled feeling in her stomach.

Bailey stayed behind the tree until the men who'd come with Ed disappeared. They rode away in one boat and left another. She watched as Ed made his way toward the house. His gaze swung around as he walked across the lawn, almost as if he could feel that he was being watched.

Once he disappeared inside, Bailey finally pushed herself away from the tree. It was time to find out exactly where Ed had been all day and, with any luck, who exactly he was.

* * *

Ed was pulling a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen when Bailey walked inside, her cheeks red with exertion. His pleasure at seeing her surprised him.

But that pleasure quickly disappeared when he saw the fire in her eyes.

“What are you up to?” she demanded, a hand on her hip.

“Excuse me?” What in the world was she talking about? He filled his glass with water from the tap, sure to keep his actions easy and natural. He'd had years of practice.

She stepped closer. “Who were those men with you out there on the pier? What are you planning?”

His back muscles tightened. So Bailey had seen him out there. He'd hoped to keep it quiet and on the down low. He should have known better.

“Oh, that. I had to go into town to pick up something.” He took a long sip, both because he was parched and to give her time to work out her thoughts. He could learn a lot about her through her accusations.

She leaned toward him, indignation in her gaze. “Who are you, Ed? Are you really Mr. Carter's son?”

She was thinking like a spy now. Kudos to her.

He set his empty glass on the counter with a thud. “Of course I'm Mr. Carter's son. Why would you ask that?”

“Because something's not adding up, and I don't like being deceived.”

“Why do you think I'm deceiving you?”

“For starters, how do I know that you're really his son? There are no pictures. He only called his son Junior. Your key didn't work. Why don't you start talking, because I'd really like to hear what you have to say?”

“How can I prove that to you?” He kept his voice easy, calm.

“What was your father's favorite football team?”

“Redskins.”

She shook her head. “Everyone from DC says that. Favorite hobby?”

“Fishing.”

She squeezed the skin between her eyes. “Of course that would be a logical guess since he moved to a fishing village.” She lowered her hand, determination in her gaze. “What was his wife's name?”

Ed stepped closer. “My mom was Theresa. She was the CEO of a nonprofit and she died in a car accident when I was in college. My dad had a certain amount of security clearance through his job, so he liked to keep his family life private. My father was an only child. His right index finger was cut off at the knuckle because of a hunting accident when he was seventeen, and he liked to put protein powder in his coffee.”

He saw the mix of relief, confusion and exhaustion on her face, and he stepped closer. “I am his son, Bailey. We have the same eyes. That's what everyone has always said.”

She frowned. “I guess I believe you. I just don't know who to trust anymore. One minute, I think you're different from other guys—in a good way. The next minute, I feel convinced that you're hiding something and aren't who you claim to be.”

He squeezed her arm, trying to figure out the best way to smooth over a bumpy situation. He wanted more than anything to put her at ease, to reassure her. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't promise that he wasn't like the other guys who'd broken her heart. He had too much baggage, too many secrets he couldn't speak of. Not now. Maybe not ever.

But there was one thing he was certain of. “Bailey, you can trust me.”

Her gaze softened, but only for a moment before she raised her chin defiantly. “How can I be sure of that?”

“You have to take my word for it.” He wanted to give her more. He really did. But his hands were tied.

“That's all you can offer me?”

He felt his defenses coming down when he heard the earnestness in her voice. “There are things I can't tell you, Bailey. But I'm on your side. We're both on the same side. The side of justice.”

Her hands went to her hips. “Is what they say true?”

He released her arm and leaned against the counter, trying to take hold of his thoughts. “Depends on what you're talking about.”

“Was your father a spy?”

He let out a tense chuckle, hoping she didn't hear any truth in the sound. “My dad? A spy? Where did you hear that?”

“You're not answering the question.”

Bailey could see through him and that fact left him feeling unnerved. He found his water glass and refilled it. “My dad was not a spy.”

She stared at him, unsure what to say or think.

“You can trust me, Bailey,” he repeated. He meant it. Aside from the secrets he'd been sworn not to share, Bailey could depend on him. He vowed not to let her down. “I would tell you more if I could.”

“What
can
you tell me?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper. “I can tell you that the lab found traces of arsenic in my father's heart medicine.”

Bailey gasped, taking the paper from him. “No...”

He nodded, feeling somber as he confirmed what he'd thought all along. “It's true. Someone tampered with his prescription. My father was murdered, Bailey. This confirms it. No more doubts.”

“But why?” Her voice sounded strained, subdued.

He motioned outside. “Let's take a walk.”

She nodded, looking dazed. He put a hand on her elbow and led her outside. He wasn't sure why he felt the urge to get out of the house, but he did. The whole place could feel stifling with too many reminders of his father's passing. Then there were the cameras he'd found. What if the whole place was bugged?

They walked silently until they reached the beach. Ed zipped his jacket up, the wind chilly coming off the water. Bailey shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. “Bailey, my dad had a high-level position with the State Department. He made a lot of enemies.”

“Enemies who might have wanted him dead?”

“Plenty, I'm sure.”

“There's no one who can help us?”

He shook his head. “I've seen too much, Bailey.”

“A lawyer who's seen too much, huh?” Her voice lilted.

He wanted to pour everything out to her. He wanted to trust her and for her to trust him. But there were certain constraints that he had no control over. He had to change the subject.

“Why aren't you married yet, Bailey? You seem like the marrying type.” At least, that was how Ed saw her. She was the type of woman a man wanted to come home to—kind, pretty, compassionate and warm. For some reason, she'd ended up here at this isolated island, where her chances were slim to none as far as finding anyone to share her life with.

“That ex-boyfriend I told you about? We were actually engaged.”

“What happened?”

“We had the wedding set and everything.” She shook her head. “I know this is going to sound strange, but he wanted to reschedule the date of our wedding to better accommodate his work schedule.”

“Really?” Ed could only imagine how that had gone over.

She nodded. “Yeah, really. He was an ad executive, and he had big plans for the future. For
his
future, that is. I'd felt like second place to his job nearly since the beginning of our relationship. But I think that was the final straw. I saw the rest of my life with him, and it wasn't happy. It wasn't what I wanted for my future.”

“I understand.”

“I'm really not the jealous type who wants someone to dote over me. But I do want someone who has priorities, who knows how to separate work from his personal life. I want someone who realizes there's more to life than bringing in a big paycheck. Having time with loved ones is more important than getting ahead at work.”

“I agree. Those are wise words.” His attraction to Bailey continued to grow, as if it were out of his control. “You really do like it here on Smuggler's Cove, don't you?”

She nodded. “I do. Maybe I need to get with modern times, but I like feeling like I've stepped into another era—an era from the past.”

“You're different, Bailey. And that's a good thing.”

She stole a glance at him. “Enough about me. How about you? Have you dated any since that girl broke your heart?”

He glanced up in surprise. He'd forgotten that he had told her about his engagement. “Claire? No, I can't say I have.”

“And what happened with Claire that made you leery of dating?”

“Claire wasn't who I thought she was. When she was with me, she pretended to be one person. When we weren't together, she was someone else entirely. When I realized that, I felt disillusioned and deceived. I didn't like it. I haven't dated, nor have I had the desire to date since that.”

“Understood.”

Good. He needed to put that boundary in place. Because he knew his feelings for Bailey were growing, and it was best to squash any potential relationship before it started.

No matter how hard that choice might be.

* * *

There was something about the thought of Ed being hurt that caused a surge of protectiveness to rise in Bailey.

The fact that he'd opened up about his hurt made Bailey somehow feel more connected to him. He wasn't just the tough, slick cardboard figure of a man. He had a past; he had a history.

There were still a lot of blanks that needed to be filled in, though.

Every time her doubts started to cloud her judgment, Ed surprised her by opening up and showing a different side of himself. Put all of that together, and she felt like a tangled mess of emotions.

Bailey shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and enjoyed the feeling of the breeze hitting her face. Something about the two of them walking side by side, even without saying a word, felt right. The mere thought went against every part of her instincts.

She didn't want to trust again; didn't want to be hurt again. But Ed Carter was intriguing. And, when he let that side of him show through, he was kind.

“Ed, have you looked in the barn yet?”

“Did my dad ever go out there?”

Bailey shrugged. “He liked having moments by himself, just like I did, I guess. I usually went up to the widow's walk. He really liked the library, but he did come out to the garage and visit Mr. Wilkins some.”

“It's worth a shot.”

They started together across the yard. Ed unlocked the door leading to the garage, a building that was larger than some people's homes. The shop area waited on the other side. This was where most of the tools and equipment were kept. Though Mr. Carter wasn't the handy type himself, the previous owners had been. This had been a nice little workshop for someone at one time. The old equipment was still here, showing evidence of a true artisan. The scent of sawdust and oil saturated the space.

“I wouldn't mind using some of this one day,” Ed muttered.

Bailey looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

He leaned down to examine a machine. “Yeah, really. I've always enjoyed working with my hands. I liked building bookshelves and footstools when I was in high school.”

“That surprises me. I see you more as the playing-football type.”

“I did that, too. But we moved a lot. My dad was gone a lot. I had these visions of building my own boat one day and sailing across the bay—maybe even the ocean. Anyway, working with my hands always helps me to feel relaxed.”

“It's important to find something you can do to help you unwind.”

He ran his hand down one of the tools. “Funny, I actually haven't thought about that in a long time.”

“Well, maybe you can now. This place is yours. It will be the perfect place for you to come on weekends or whenever you need to get away.”