Tempting the Ringmaster (16 page)

“Uncle Graham,” Trevor said. “Yesterday—you said I could talk to you about anything?”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

“I don’t want to go to the Winter Social.”

Who did? Graham grinned. He felt for his nephew, he really did, but some things in life weren’t optional. Death, taxes, and the Winter Social. “Sorry, dude, some things aren’t optional. People are expecting you.”

“Right.” Trevor let out a long sigh. “Can we go to the circus afterwards? I want to see Petra.”

“The circus.” Graham’s mouth went dry. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Like hell. He bit his lip to keep from yelling. The last thing he wanted was for Kelly to tell him to go to hell—again. “What does your mom think about that?”

“She said that I had to ask you.”

Kelly’s cheeks flushed. She wouldn’t meet Graham’s gaze.

Damn it. He took a deep breath, concentrating on the road in front of him. This was no time to get snarky. Trevor was a reasonable kid. He’d understand if things were laid out clearly enough. “There’s no way in hell you’re going back to the circus. Do you understand? There was a fire—anything could have happened—“ The boy could have been hurt. He could have died. He wasn’t the only one. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Trevor. Don’t push this.”

I know,” Trevor’s voice was shaking. “Mom says I’m grounded until I’m thirty. I don’t get to go to Timmy Evert’s birthday party next weekend. I have
to fold all the laundry for the next month, and she’s taking away my video games until I’ve brought up my grade in math.” His nose wrinkled up slightly. “I hate math.” There was a long pause. “She also said that I could see Petra if you said it was okay.”

“It’s not okay—“

“Petra’s my friend. She’s in trouble. You don’t abandon friends when they’re in trouble. You always told me that—“

“The two of you started a fire.” Trevor never would have been at the circus if it weren't for the girl. “Petra started a fire. The circus is a dangerous place.” That wasn’t quite true. Over the past week, he’d hung around the circus enough to know that the people were always pulling together to care for the kids. All the children were well cared for and well educated. Still, some things couldn’t be overlooked. “Who the heck leaves fire breathing equipment lying around?”

The car was silent.

“It wasn’t just lying around,” Trevor said, sullenly.

“What?” Graham stopped the car in the middle of the road. The city hall was less than a block away. He should be looking for a place to park.

He turned to look at his nephew. Trevor’s shoulders were slumped forward. He looked sad, lonely, and young. Damn.

Graham frowned. “What are you talking about? Where did you get the fire breathing equipment?” This couldn’t get any worse. “Tell me you didn’t steal it.”

“No!” Trevor yelped. “We didn’t steal it. Someone gave it to us.”

Who in their right mind would give two kids fire breathing equipment? No one. They might not have been able to predict the fire, but they would have known it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t right. The only reason someone would give the children matches and accelerant was if they were trying to cause a disaster.

“Don’t lie to me, Trevor.”

“I’m not lying.” Trevor stuck his chin out defiantly. “That old lady gave Petra the stuff. She told us to have fun.”

A line of cars was starting to form behind Graham. Engines running, occupants dressed for a party. Someone honked a horn.

“Old lady?” Graham frowned, trying to figure out who his nephew could be talking about. Trevor was only seven. To him, anyone over the age of twenty was ancient. “Irma? Willow?”

“The lady with the horses,” Trevor said. “She gave Petra the stuff. She said it would be fun.” He was staring at the floor now. “She was the one who said we should practice in the circus tent. Petra said it would be safer to do it out in the parking lot—if something went wrong we could run away—but the old lady said it had to be the circus tent. She said ‘what’s the use in practicing someplace else when we’ve got the stage right there.’”

“Horses.” Graham was racking his brain. Over the past week and a half, he’d dealt with demented dogs, flamboyant clowns, and a homeless elephant. He knew the circus had horses—he’d seen the show twice—but he couldn’t put a name to the image in his head. A middle aged couple putting the animals through their paces.

“Dorothy,” Kelly offered helpfully. “Her name
’s Dorothy.”

Right, the one with the kids who’d gone to Ivy League schools. Graham’s muscles tightened. Every instinct he had was shouting at him. Something was off. Way off. Belle was in danger.

It was more than one car honking now. It was the whole line of them. People eager to get to the party. Graham should be one of them. He’d been right earlier—when he’d told Trevor that some things weren’t optional—attendance at the Winter Social was mandatory.

If he didn’t go, people would be disappointed. They’d start to talk. They’d shake their heads and start dragging out old stories, all the bad things he’d done when he was younger. “His brother never would have behaved like that,” someone would say, and everyone else would agree. The real truth wouldn’t pass their lips, but they’d all be thinking the same thing. The wrong Tyler brother had died overseas.

It didn’t matter, Graham realized. He’d spent the last eight years proving to everyone that he’d changed. He was responsible, dependable, a good role model. A police chief who could be counted on. If it took eight more years than he’d prove it all over again, but none of that would matter without Belle.

If anything happened to her—

“I need to go,” he said.

Kelly was already opening the passenger side door. She stood up, holding the pie plate in one hand and smoothing her dress with the other. “Come on
Trevor.”

“No.” Trevor’s hands were balled into fists. “He’s going to the circus. I want to go too.”

“Not tonight, kid.” There was no way in hell that Graham would put his nephew in danger. Still, his voice softened as he looked at the boy in the back seat. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “I’ll take you to the circus tomorrow.”

“To play with Petra?” Trevor demanded, leaving nothing to chance. “You’re not mad at her.”

“I’m mad,” Graham growled. He was rip-roaring angry. “But not at you—or Petra—I’m mad because someone put you guys in danger and she’s still out there. I want to make sure she’s not going to hurt anyone else.”

“Like Belle?”

Dark curls and a fairy smile. If he never saw her again… Graham’s stomach clenched. He needed to do something. He needed to move. “Exactly.”

“Okay.” Trevor opened the back door and climbed out into the street. For once, he didn’t object when his mother grabbed his hand. They closed the car doors and stood together—watching—while Graham sped off into the darkness.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. His foot was heavy on the gas. The air seemed to crackle around him in anticipation. He’d been right to worry about Belle’s safety. He never should have left her alone. Not when Dorothy was about to bring the circus crashing down around her ears.

His phone was ringing. He answered it without checking the display. Maybe it was Belle, calling to talk to him. To tell him that she wasn’t angry about the night before. “This is Graham Tyler.”

“At least you’re answering the phone correctly,” his father huffed.  “There’s a traffic jam on Main Street. Some idiot’s stopped in the middle of the road.”

“Don’t worry. It’s cleared up.” The car rumbled as it accelerated onto the two lane highway between Buck Falls and Whispering Springs.

“Good.” A short pause. “Are you here? I don’t see you.”

“I’m not coming,” Graham said, not caring about what his father might think or the repercussions might be in town. All that mattered was getting to
Belle before anything happened to her. Another fire or worse.

Chapter Fourteen

The night air was cold. Crisp grass crackled underneath Belle’s feet as she ran for the elephant corral. Blood was roaring in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of people shouting Petra’s name behind her. Goosebumps sprouted across her arms. Her breath was coming faster, forming pale clouds in the air. Her lungs screamed.

Her eyes searched the darkness until she picked out Petra’s pale pink dress. The girl was standing on her tip-toes, feeding Tiny an apple. It took Belle a moment longer to find Dorothy. The old woman was seated on a bale of hay. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Her chin jutted out, defiant. On her lap, a gun’s oiled barrel glinted in the starlight.

Belle didn’t think twice. She rushed forward, moving fast to put herself between the woman she’d always counted on and the girl who she could only count on to drive her nuts. She vaulted over the fence. Nothing happened. The night remained entirely still, unbroken by chaos or violence. Still, her gut twisted. Where was Graham when she needed him? For once the pushy policeman could have made himself useful by disarming the horse mistress.

She slid to a stop in front of the hay bale.

“You didn’t hurt her?”

“Petra?” Dorothy laughed. “No, I’ve got nothing against Petra.”

“You gave her the fire breathing equipment.” It wasn’t a question. The gun left little room for doubt in Belle’s mind.

“Sure, and it did the job I meant for it to do.” Dorothy sighed. “You just wouldn’t give up. I made it so easy, sell the circus, go back to your old life, and leave the rest of us in peace. All I wanted was some peace.”

“Is that what the gun’s for?” Belle demanded.

“This?” Dorothy picked the gun up, staring at it thoughtfully. “I thought I
might come out here and end it all. Before you figured everything out. You’re a smart girl, Belle-Anne. You could have done anything. You could have been so much more.” She shrugged, but her grip on the firearm didn’t relax.

“Then I thought I’d shoot Tiny. Right in the head.” She sighted down the barrel of the gun. “Pow. All those news reports recently about animal abuse at the circus? A dead elephant would definitely put you out of business. Even if you never intended to keep her.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Now, I think that I might shoot you.” Dorothy turned the gun towards Belle.

Oh, hell. Belle took a deep breath, forcing air down into her lungs. What the hell had she been thinking? She should never have confronted Dorothy by herself, but she’d been so concerned about keeping Petra safe. She should have called out for help when she spotted the two of them. She should have called Graham when she saw the gun.

Graham. Her heart started pounding even harder. If she died now then she’d never see him again. She’d never taste his fresh masculine scent, hear his voice calling her name, or feel his smile against her lips. He’d called her names, her hurt feelings reminded her mulishly. He’d rejected her like she was worthless. Trash.

The same way Billy had so many years earlier.

Graham wasn’t Billy. He wasn’t an idiotic eighteen year old trying to woo another girl. He was solid, dependable, everything she’d ever wanted in a man, and when he’d seen his family in danger, he’d lashed out. The things he’d said—

Belle’s hands were shaking. From the cold or the stress? The world felt like it was falling apart. The gun was still pointed in her direction. Dorothy’s eyes were flinty in the darkness. Her shirt strained against her doughy body. She smelled like the hay she was sitting on and the chicken soup she’d been making every Saturday night since the beginning of time.

Belle was not going to be shot by a woman who smelled like chicken soup. If she was going to be shot—and that was a big if—it would be by a fair-haired man with pale blue eyes, vengeance on his eyes and a tattoo on his hip. Going out in a blaze of glory.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” She snarled.

The click of Dorothy’s finger, taking off the gun’s safety echoed around the field. It shouldn’t have been that loud. Even Petra and Tiny seemed to notice. The elephant’s ears flicked backwards momentarily. The girl’s head swung in their direction.

Tiny bellowed a second time. Stomping her feet up and down. The gun hadn’t made that much noise. There had to be something else. Someone moving in the darkness. Petra’s entire body stilled like she was listening to someone. Then she walked around to the other side of the elephant, disappearing from view.

Belle held her breath, hoping that Dorothy wouldn’t notice. Who was it? Mikhail? Keith? Blue? Her stomach clenched. She’d already done enough to put her people in danger. She needed to rectify the situation. She had to get the gun away from Dorothy.

Clearly, she’d been too forceful the last time she spoke.

She tried again, “You don’t need to do this. Whatever’s bothering you—we can talk about it.”

Dorothy wasn’t listening. She was too busy glaring at Belle, her lips pulled back in a vicious smile. “You know, when I was a girl I thought it would be fun to join the circus?” she said. “Run off to see the clowns. The whole bit. Then I finally did it. I fell in love, took up with the horses. It was damn fun, like something out of a picture book. A fantasy.”

“I know how you feel,” A man’s dark gravelly voice split the darkness, making Belle’s entire body tense. Graham walked slowly across the field, hands held up to show he wasn’t a threat. Ha! Like anyone was going to believe that. The ex-Navy SEAL was wearing his best clothes, a tidy suit and a blue shirt that brought out his eyes.

All dressed up for his freaking Winter Social.

Belle crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass.”

“I wasn’t aware my ass needed saving.” She never took her eyes off Dorothy. Or the gun. “Shouldn’t you be at the Winter Social? Aren’t people expecting you? Good decent people?”

“They’ll get over it. I thought you needed me more.” His blue eyes met hers, and a zing of warmth rocketed through her body. “What’s going on?”

“Dorothy and I were just talking about the circus. She says it’s like a
picture book.”

“A fantasy,” Dorothy corrected. “Only you can’t have a fantasy every day. Actions have consequences. The things you think will be fun when you’re a teenager look a whole lot different when you’re thirty-five and trying to raise four boys out of a 400 square foot RV, but I persevered. I worked hard because my boys were going to have a better life.”

Her gaze narrowed slightly, shifting to Graham. “You’re getting too close. Move back.”

“Sorry,” Graham took another step forward. He was still a little more than ten feet away from the gun-toting gargoyle, but he was getting closer. “I can’t do that.”

“Uh huh.” Dorothy shifted the gun off of Belle and onto Graham. “Stop moving, or I’ll shoot you in the hiney.”

Crud. Belle frowned. Graham was bull headed and foolish. He was also wonderful. The way he’d looked at her the day before, she’d thought she would never see him again. Now, here he was.

Skipping his all-important Winter Social.

Rescuing her, even after what had happened with the kids. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest. Damn, he was a good man. Too good for her to let go. Even if that meant changing what she wanted. What she thought she wanted. She swallowed hard.

First, they had to make it out of the elephant corral alive.

“Talk to me,” she said, trying to draw Dorothy’s attention away from Graham. Her body felt tight, muscles screaming from holding perfectly still for so long. Her big toe began to itch. She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Your boys are doing great. A doctor, a lawyer, and a business executive.”

“And Alex,” Dorothy’s smile softened slightly, finally reaching her eyes. “My baby. You know he’s going to Yale. He’s a literature major. He’s going to get a PhD. He’s going to write the next great American novel. He’s going to be a professor.”

Every word dropped out of her mouth with the rock hard certainty of fate. Prophecy. Like she had gazed into the future and liked what she saw there.

“He always liked books,” Belle said.

“Uh huh, he also liked the horses.” A bead of sweat rolled down Dorothy’s forehead. She wiped her face on the back of her hand. “Now he wants to come back. His father—the idiot—couldn’t be happier.” Dorothy’s tone made it clear exactly what she thought of her husband, “I won’t have my baby mucking out stalls for the rest of his life. He’s better than all this sweat and work—“

“And you’re going to stop that by shutting down the circus?”

“That was the plan. I set up the sale to the carnival company—they were even going to give me a nice little finder’s fee—but then your father died before he finished the paperwork.” Her smile faltered. “I figured you’d be even easier to convince. You already had a life in Chicago. That cute partner of his. Chevy. Ford. What was his name?”

“Dodge.”

“Dodge.” Dorothy nodded. “But then you were here. Tearing everything up. Getting in everybody’s way. So much noise. So much fuss. Pushing everybody to make their acts better, paying off Barnaby’s debts. You wouldn’t slow down no matter what I said to you. No matter what I did. Not even after New York—“

“New York. The Big Fumble.” Belle’s chest tightened. She couldn’t believe it.

The accident had been bad. Vicious. She could still remember the crunch of the aerialist hitting the ground. Bones shattering. She’d attributed the fall to outdated equipment, but then she’d been too busy rushing Pepper to the hospital to take a closer look at the frayed net that was supposed to have caught her.

“You were responsible for that?”

“I felt sure you’d shut down the circus, but we just kept moving. You refused to slow down. Even when I turned the clowns against you. I’d almost given up when we got here. These are nice people.” Dorothy nodded at Graham. Had he moved closer? Or was it just a trick of the light? “He’s a nice man. I thought if something happened here, you’d be happy to get rid of the circus. You’d stay.” A sniff. “The fool didn’t even ask you.”

“He asked.” Standing in the exact same place where they were being held at gunpoint now. Belle remembered the look of hope on his face, the way he’d smiled in the sunlight. Her stomach churned at the thought. “I turned him down.”

She should have said yes. The circus was important—her family, her friends—but it would survive without her, and she could have Graham. If anything happened to him—

She couldn’t let him get hurt. Not now. Not when she’d just realized how she felt.

Her body was shaking. Her breathing was shallow. The world was spinning. She needed to act. Even if that meant putting herself in danger. Her gaze flickered sidewise.

Graham had definitely moved forward. He was standing almost parallel to her now. His gaze was solemn. His spine like iron. The man looked deadly in the darkness. A fearsome predator just waiting for his opportunity to pounce.

The gun was still pointed straight at him. If Dorothy’s finger moved—

Belle’s weight shifted forward onto the balls of her feet. The same way she’d balance before any acrobatic trick. The same way she stood in the big ring with a thousand eyes on her.

“Instead, you got everyone riled up. You invited more people to join the circus.” Dorothy’s sigh was heavy. “No more hiding in the shadows. No more accidents. I’m not taking any chances. This time, I’m going to get the job done right. I’m going to end it here. Now.”

Graham lunged forward.

Belle moved at the same time. Reaching out for the weapon.

Boom. The gun thundered across the short distance. Dorothy had gotten off one shot before Graham grabbed the gun out of her hands. Belle balled her hands into fists and threw one wobbly punch in the old woman’s directions. It wasn’t much—she’d never been in a fight before—but it was enough to send Dorothy sprawling. Whimpering angrily.

Graham flicked the revolver’s barrel open, spilling bullets out onto the ground. He tossed the weapon away and sucked in a breath. “I told you, someone was trying to hurt you.”

“Uh huh, and the next time there’s a gun toting maniac around I’ll listen to you.” Relief flooded her body. She threw herself at him, just as people began to appear in the distance. Petra had summoned the cavalry, and they were riding to the rescue. She hit Graham’s body with a solid thud—eliciting a moan in response—and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes in order to kiss him, hard, running her fingers through his hair and dragging him down closer to her. “Yes, I’ll stay. If you’ll still have me.”

“You’ll stay?” Pale lashes fluttered downwards, blinking in surprise. Graham pulled her up into his arms, gripping her so tight that her feet left the ground. She was flying. He whooped happily in amazement. “You’ll stay!” A pause. “What about the circus?”

“I’m going to sell it.”

“I thought you said the buyers wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Not to some carnival company in California. To Keith or Frank. Maybe Blue. It doesn’t matter,” she said, “I love you so damn much.”