Treasure Me (30 page)

In a parlor straight out of the Victorian era, Hugh paced before the maroon couch.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d tracked Birdie down. Letting her murder him in the privacy of their apartment made more sense.

From what Bud had indicated, Ralston was reporting on more than Birdie’s nefarious family. He’d connected Wish Kaminsky to Landon Williams and The Trinity Investment scandal.

The vicious irony brought Hugh full circle.

Writing about the scandal put him in a tailspin fourteen years ago. During the investigation he slept with Cat, an unforgivable breach of ethics he was sure played a role in sending her to her death. Now he’d put Birdie in a situation equally perilous.

Once again he’d recklessly blurred the line between his private and professional worlds.

No question, Birdie wasn’t prepared for the firestorm. The anonymity she enjoyed in Liberty, the friendships she’d made—the sudden notoriety would destroy every hard-won achievement.

Oblivious to the danger, she waltzed into the room grinning like a kid who’d won Christmas presents for life. Spots of water speckled her tank top, and her eyes were bright. She looked breathtaking.

“Hugh! You’ll never guess what I found out about Theodora. Well, about me and Theodora, actually.” Pausing, she took a swipe at his head. “Did you forget to brush your hair? You’re a wreck.”

He raked his hand across his scalp. “It’s almost ten o’clock. You said you’d be home by nine.” He flinched at his harsh greeting and the ridiculously cozy way he’d referred to the apartment as
home
. “All hell’s about to break loose.”

“Maybe on your corner of the globe but not here. I’m bonding with other women.” Her saucy grin kick-started his desire. “Of course, I still haven’t forgiven you. If we engage in a more intimate type of bonding later, I might consider it.”

Once he laid it all out, she’d never trust him again. She wouldn’t return to the apartment for sex. She’d pack her bags.

Just as he’d done an hour ago.

From the kitchen, the teapot whistled. Ethel Lynn called, “Earl Grey or Oolong, dears?”

“Whiskey,” Hugh bellowed. “Make it a double, no ice.” Frustrated—he still wasn’t sure how to proceed—he steered Birdie toward the fireplace. “This can’t wait. I have a confession to make.”

“Find a priest. I can’t absolve you of your sins.” She smiled broadly, and the urge to capture her mouth in a kiss was nearly overwhelming. “I have enough trouble dealing with my own sins, Parsnip.”

He noticed the andirons beside the fireplace and edged her away from them. Only a lunatic would put her within reach of a weapon. “This isn’t easy.”

“What, you’ve made a decision without me? Listen, I don’t want you to write about the rubies but I get it. I have to trade them for my privacy. No contest.”

“This isn’t about the rubies.” He clasped her shoulders to hold her still.

“Then what?”

“I’m a self serving bastard, but I’ll do anything in my power to protect you.” He needed a compass to navigate the conversation. He was traveling blind. “I don’t mean to walk over people. Certainly not you.”

“As of this moment, you’re walking over my feet. Let go!”

Frustrated, he swooped in and kissed her feverishly. She tasted good, too good, and the way she squirmed against his chest was a nice bonus. There wasn’t much glue to their relationship, not yet, but they did have a combustible form of sexual attraction. He prayed it held the power to bind her to him despite what he had to say.

Satisfaction brimmed in him when she flung her arms around his neck and returned his ardor. Which would have increased tenfold if not for the sound of china clattering from the doorway.

“Gracious me!” Ethel Lynn nearly toppled the silver platter in her grasp.

Abruptly, Hugh let Birdie go. She careened backward and bounced off the arm of the sofa.

Regaining her balance, she glared. “I’ll admit the sex is good. Work on the foreplay.” Turning on her heel, she approached a quivering Ethel Lynn and jabbed a finger toward the large tumbler of amber liquid. “What is this?”

“Bourbon. Men like bourbon.” Patting her brow, Ethel Lynn stared at Hugh like he was a grizzly bear set loose in her parlor. “He needs a calming influence.”

“Not as much as I do.” With a toss of her head, Birdie downed half the glass. Flinching, she smiled maniacally at Ethel Lynn before finishing the drink. Then she turned the flustered old woman in the direction of the kitchen. “Off you go. Don’t come back until I call you.”

Ethel Lynn scurried off with her tray rattling.

Birdie planted her hands on her hips. “Okay—out with it,” she said, freezing Hugh with an arctic stare. “What’s going on and why should I care?”

A shriek rang out from the bathroom.

Hugh flinched. “What was that?”

“Delia.” Birdie planted her hands on his chest, stopping him from heading off to investigate. He’d done something stupid and she damn well wanted to know what it was. “Not so fast. We aren’t done talking.”

“Sounds like someone’s hacking off her arm.”

“She’s fine.” Birdie pushed him back a step. “Out with it. I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Hugh muttered a curse. Swinging away, he gripped the edge of the mantle.

A sudden, queasy doubt settled in the pit of her stomach.

He turned around and faced her. “There’s a story coming out in the morning edition of the
Register
about you and your family.”

“Ralston talked to your friend, the PI?” Numb, she tried to formulate her thoughts. “You said my story was safe if you kept your job at the
Register
.”

“I was wrong. Ralston was already working on the article.”

“Stop him!”

“I quit this afternoon when my editor told me the article is going forward.”

“Fix it, Hugh.” Hurt and anger wrestled for prominence in her heart. “I don’t care what you have to do. Keep my family out of the paper.”

“I can’t. But I’ll protect you. We’ll go to my place in Akron, ride it out.”

Was he kidding? She was about to object when Delia stormed into the room flinging water droplets from her soggy head.

“Look at my hair!” The waitress grabbed at her close-cropped locks, which were a vibrant shade of… green.

Hugh cocked his head. “If you were going for honey blonde you missed the mark.”

Birdie held up her hand to halt Delia from lunging toward her. “One second.” She wheeled on Hugh. “Tell me how you’ll fix this.”

“We’ll weather it together,” he said, sidestepping the question. She considered knocking him off his feet. “You were never meant to be a criminal.”

Delia frowned, trying to keep up. “It
is
criminal to screw up another woman’s hair. But she doesn’t deserve jail time. A stiff fine, maybe.”

Ignoring the comment, Hugh zeroed in on Birdie. “You knew you’d have to give up the search for the rubies. And I wish I could make it so you won’t be on the front page of the
Register
. Now we have to deal with it.”

Delia stopped fiddling with her hair. “Did you say
rubies?
” She grabbed Birdie. “You’ll be on the front page of Hugh’s paper? Like a celebrity?”

Hugh scratched his temple. “Think
America’s Most Wanted
.”

“Oh. That’s not good.” Considering, Delia slicked back the hair plastered to her forehead. “Birdie, you’re a wanted woman?”

“
I
want her,” Hugh said, “but for personal reasons.” He regarded Birdie with a faint smile. “I’ll find a way to make this up to you. Can you forgive me, Eggplant?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

Delia rolled her eyes. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

Birdie nudged her toward the bathroom. “No offense, but this is private. I’ll explain later.”

After the waitress marched off, she cornered Hugh by the fireplace. At least the man was perspiring—little beads of moisture were collecting on his brow. Not much, but enough to imply the discomfort he richly deserved.

Grimacing, he tried reaching for her. “Birdie, there’s something else.” She moved away and he let his hand fall to his side. “Trinity investments will be featured in Ralston’s article, front and center.”

“The investment firm Landon Williams owned?”

The wheels in her brain clattered to a standstill. Then her thoughts tumbled forward in a terrifying whirl as the awful pieces fell into place. She recalled Hugh telling her about Trinity and a woman who drowned in Lake Erie. Then she remembered what Meade had said about Landon’s destructive love affair. She hadn’t connected the two events. In a state of shock, she did so now.

Wish.

“The woman, the one Landon gave all the money to,” she whispered, “it was my mother.”

“I didn’t know. I never interviewed her.”

“Of course you didn’t. She’s a pro. She knows when to get out.” Apprehension curled in her belly. “How much did my mother steal from Landon?”

Dragging his hand through his hair, Hugh seemed disinclined to say. “Several hundred thousand,” he finally got out.

The numbers were staggering. Wish had made a major kill. My God, no wonder the Feds were after her—she’d earned a seat in the major leagues long ago, when Birdie was still a kid. Of course, Wish never bragged about her exploits. She trusted no one.

Ruefully, Birdie shook her head. “I didn’t know about the money. I’m sure my dad didn’t either. Wish must’ve stashed it somewhere away from us.”

This brought a startled glance from Hugh. “Your mother was rich. She never told you?”

“Never told me, never used the money when I was around. I went to school in clothes scavenged from Goodwill.” Hugh stared at her with pity and it was too much, an additional burden she couldn’t bear. With savage honesty, she added, “Hey, who am I to complain? If I’d found the rubies I wouldn’t have shared them with her either.”

Wretched self-loathing brought her head up. What right did she have to feel betrayed? Greed ran thick in her family. It was foolish to think she could be like Theodora. She was just like Wish.

Dragging her gaze from his, she said, “By the way, I knew about my mother and Landon Williams.” Wearily, she explained how Theodora had taken her to meet his daughter, Meade. Wrapping up, she added, “From what I gathered, my mother had an on and off relationship with Landon for years. She probably went to him whenever my dad was in the pen. Tanek never stayed on the outside for very long.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you met with Meade?”

“It wasn’t important.”

“Like hell it’s not.”

His accusatory tone sent her despair fleeing. “What? And give you more material to write about?” A cheap shot, but she was hurt and frightened and only just beginning to understand everything she’d lose. “What am I supposed to do when Meade sees the story? She’ll be gunning for me. I shouldn’t stand here talking—I should be getting the hell out of here.”

“I didn’t write the story, Ralston did!”

“Then find him,” she snapped. “Take his laptop and break it into a million pieces. If he’s already delivered the story, sneak into the
Register
. Do something to the computers. Trash them, crash them—I don’t care.”

“They’re already running the presses,” Hugh said with surprising calm. Anguish creased his face. “It’s over, Birdie.”

“Do you have any idea what will happen to me?”

He stared at her.

“I’ll go to prison.”

Hugh grimaced. “Possibly. It’s something every criminal has to consider.”

The noncommittal reply sent fury whipping through her. “I’m not going to prison.” She pushed him, hard, but he didn’t budge. His obstinacy merely increased her rage. “I’ll break into the
Register
, take a hammer to the presses—

Spinning on her heel, she felt Hugh’s arms clamp around her sides. Her feet lifted wildly into the air.

“Don’t touch me!” She tried to break free as he spun her to face him. His hold tightened. “Damn it—let go!”

“I’m not letting you go off and do something crazy. You need my help. You need
me.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

His dark eyes glittered. “What have you got without me? A shallow, pathetic life skipping from town to town? This is your chance to turn it around. Take it.”

Sorrow punched through her pride. “My life was set the day I was born.” She was nothing like Lucas or Theodora. What was she, really? A thief like her mother. A fumbling criminal who’d spend time in the pen like her father. “You can’t help me. No one can.”

The explanation stole the heat from his eyes. “Then you’re leaving.” He released her. Frowning, he pulled a wad of bills from the pocket of his jeans. “My last paycheck. It’s yours.”

“I don’t want your money.” The urge to rush into his arms collided with her pride. None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t asked a PI to pry into her life. Brutally, she added, “Why in God’s name did I ever trust you?”

The words struck him like a glancing blow. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, not this deeply. The urge to cry swept through her, a sudden, painful rush of emotion.

“I didn’t mean… ” The apology on her lips evaporated beneath his hooded gaze. Regret sent pinpricks of pain through her chest. She had no right to wound him so deeply. He was an easy target. She was angry with herself.

He scrubbed his palms across his face. “You never did trust me.” He shook his head ruefully. “Jesus. Why am I surprised? I don’t trust you, either. Not really. Not the way I should if I want to make something real with you.”

Birdie sank down on the couch. When she couldn’t find her voice, he glanced around the room. Patches of grey covered the grizzled skin of his cheeks. Noticing his coat where he’d tossed it on a chair, he stalked past her and put it on.

He gazed at her with chilly regard, and the sorrow in her heart increased. “I’ve already moved my stuff out of the apartment. If I were you, I’d get packed.”

“Hugh, I didn’t mean—”

“Take a bus out of Liberty first thing tomorrow,” he said, cutting her off. His voice, utterly void of emotion, made her blood ran cold. “Set up shop on the other side of the country. It won’t buy you freedom but it might buy time.”