Wild Hawk (15 page)

“You have a right to this, and a legal claim. That has to count for something.”

“I’m sure it will make a big difference,” Jason said dryly, “when they drag out your little bank statement and prove I put you up to this.”

“Then you won’t contest?”

For a moment he turned that piercing stare on her. She felt oddly pinned, and more than a little uneasy, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. Silence spun out between them, taut, wire-drawn. Finally something in his steady gaze changed, as if he’d backed off. He nodded slightly, as if in salute.

“I think,” he said slowly, “I should be asking you what you intend to do if I don’t.”

Kendall took a deep breath. “If you don’t, then I’ll fight her myself.”

“That would be very foolish, Kendall. What’s to stop me from leaving you holding the bag? I could opt out of the whole deal, maybe go to the merry widow and offer to sign away any claim in return for that hundred thousand she gave you.”

“You wouldn’t get it. She’d never agree. Not with you.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, “She hates me that much?”

Kendall nodded. He didn’t look hurt, or angry, or even upset, merely thoughtful. And, she realized, he was responding as if he did, indeed, believe this was true. Was he just humoring her, or had she somehow convinced him?

“Since she doesn’t know me well enough to know how truly disagreeable I can be,” he said, without a hint of humor or even sarcasm, “I assume it’s because of who I am.”

Again Kendall nodded. “I believe you’re a symbol to her. Of what she never had from her husband. And she blames your mother for Aaron never having loved her.”

“Pardon me if I don’t bleed,” he said. “My mother never had much to show for loving Aaron Hawk. And she’s been dead for twenty years. That’s a hell of a long time to carry a grudge.”

“Yes. It is.”

She said no more, and there was no particular inflection in her voice, but his eyes narrowed as if she’d gone on to point out the obvious; he’d carried a grudge against Aaron for longer than that. Again she waited, silently, until he spoke again.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to tell her to keep her money. That I’m out of it. Out of her way, out of her life. That ought to make her happy.”

“I doubt,” Kendall said, “that Alice knows how to be happy.”

He gave her a considering look. “Then she should be really ticked if you insist on pursuing this.”

“Yes.”

He let out a compressed breath. “I don’t want any part of this. You’re on your own.”

She’d been half expecting that. “All right. That’s what I needed to know.”

She turned and walked over to the dresser, picked up her purse, and reached for her car keys. She sensed rather than saw him get to his feet.

“You’re still going to do this?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t get it. I told you, I don’t want anything my father might have left me to ease his guilt. I don’t want anything from the Hawks. Not money, not the name, nothing.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

She turned to face him. Despite the two inches she’d gained in her pumps, he was still so much taller than she that she was more aware than ever of her lack of stature.

“Partly just because it’s right. Because it’s only fair that you get what Aaron wanted you to have. Because you should have had him in your life, but didn’t.”

“I didn’t want or need that old man in my life. And nobody would risk jail for reasons like that.”

Kendall didn’t try to tell him he was wrong. “I said ‘partly’. The main reason is much simpler. I promised Aaron I would see this done.”

“He’s dead.”

“That doesn’t change anything. I promised him as he died.” His mouth twisted at her words, making her add, “With your mother’s name on his lips.”

She brushed past him and headed for the door. She was a little surprised when he followed her outside.

“Is that supposed to make me feel for him?”

She’d known the moment she’d said it that she would regret wavering from her vow to keep this conversation purely business.

“No,” she said, unlocking her car door. “I doubt if anything could change how you feel about Aaron.”

He gave her a speculative look. “And you? Could anything change the way you feel about him?”

She returned his steady gaze for a long moment, thinking. She didn’t believe anything she said would change his feelings. Neither had Aaron. He’d assumed the son he’d never known wouldn’t harbor any tender feelings for his absent father, no matter the reason. But perhaps she could make Jason understand. She reached down and released the door locks.

“Come with me,” she said. “I’m going to his office.”

He drew back a little, dark brows swiftly lowering; he clearly wasn’t impressed by either the offer or the destination.

“Aren’t you even a little curious?”

Still he hesitated. But after a moment he nodded. She went back and locked the room door, and by the time she got back to the car he was already inside.

She waited until they were on the road to speak. “I met Aaron when I was nineteen. I was in my second year of college.”

She heard him move, but didn’t look. “You said you’d worked for him since you got
out
of college.”

“Yes. But I met him three years earlier. I was driving home from work late one night, and I found Aaron staggering along the road. He’d been attacked, and his car stolen. There was a hospital just down the road, so I took him there.”

“Dangerous, for a woman alone late at night.”

“He was hurt. And alone.”

“It could have been a setup.”

She gave him a sideways glance, then sighed. “I suppose it could have been. But it wasn’t.” She noticed him glancing behind them, but he said nothing and she went on. “I stayed with him until the police and doctors were done and released him.”

“Why?”

“I told you, he was alone.”

His mouth quirked, and she waited for some sarcastic observation, but he only asked, “What happened?”

She smiled in rueful memory. “I didn’t know who he was. I just knew the robbers had taken his wallet, so he had no money or identification. So I offered to help him pay the hospital bill, and he could pay me back later.”

“You offered to pay Aaron Hawk’s bill?”

He sounded so amused she couldn’t help looking at him. “Even if I’d heard his name, I wouldn’t have known it. I didn’t have time to keep up with the who’s who of the business world.”

“I’ll bet he got a laugh out of that.”

“No. He never laughed at all. He thanked me. And started asking me questions.”

He looked through the rear window again. “Questions?”

“About school. What I was taking, what my plans were, when I would graduate, that kind of thing. We talked for hours.”

He looked back at her. “And you never knew he owned one of the bigger conglomerates in the state?”

“No,” Kendall said. “My first clue was when a private limo arrived to pick him up. I was pretty embarrassed.”

“I’ll bet.”

For once, there was no sarcasm in his tone, only what sounded like genuine amusement. It was amazing, what a difference it made, to hear his voice without that underlying cynicism that she’d begun to think was always there.

“He told me when I graduated to come see him.”

Jason rolled his eyes. As quickly as that the scoffing tone was back, along with the cynical glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me. You graduated, appeared on his doorstep, and he took you in.”

“No.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I thought this was going to be a bad movie.” He looked behind them again, his forehead creasing, and continued to look out the rear window as he asked, “You mean he didn’t generously put you through school?”

“I put myself through school. It took me five and a half years to get my degree, because I was working the whole time. And I . . . got sick one year, and lost some time. And more paying the bills.”

“Sick?”

“It doesn’t matter now. But when—”

“Sick with what?”

She studied him for a moment, wondering why he was persisting, why he wanted to know. “Nothing that’s still contagious,” she said dryly. “You’re safe.”

She nearly jumped when he chuckled; it sounded almost as genuine as his earlier amusement had. It changed his entire appearance, and made her very wary for a reason she didn’t quite understand. And when he repeated his question, again the caustic undertone was missing.

“Sick with what?”

“I . . . the hospital said it was exhaustion and dehydration.”

He stared at her. “Hospital? You were pushing that hard?”

“I didn’t want to spend my life in some dead-end job, with no hope of really making something of myself. Like the other kids I saw growing up.”

“Other foster kids?” His tone was, amazingly, almost gentle.

She nodded. “So many of them wound up that way. With no hope. I thought school was the way out.”

“And it was?” He glanced in the mirror again, then back at her. “With some help from the illustrious Aaron Hawk, after your Good Samaritan act?”

She nodded. “Now will you tell me what you keep looking for?”

He seemed embarrassed. “I . . . Nothing.”

Her mouth quirked. “I think you have a reason for everything. Even looking over your shoulder every mile.”

“Never mind,” he said. “Tell me what happened when you graduated.”

“Aaron showed up. Offering me the kind of job you only dream about right out of college.”

“Where was he when
your
hospital bill needed paying?” Amazingly, he sounded almost angry.

“Watching,” she said.

Jason blinked. “What?”

“Watching. To see what I’d do, if I really had the gumption to keep going, to not give up.”

He raised a brow at her. “Kind of cold-blooded, wasn’t it?”

“I know you think I’m some kind of naive fool, but I assure you, Jason, I knew exactly what kind of man your father was. There wasn’t an ounce of pity or sympathy in him. He neither gave nor accepted either, right up to the end. He was a Hawk, and Hawks aren’t soft, he used to say.”

She looked at him then. “And apparently,” she said, looking at him steadily, “Hawks also breed true.”

As with Alton, he again didn’t react to the comparison. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but somehow more ominous because of it.

“Are they gullible, Kendall?”

She thought of the book and knew what he meant. She really hadn’t made any progress at all, she thought tiredly. He didn’t believe any of it. She turned her eyes back to the road.

“No,” she finally answered. “But Aaron grew up with centuries of family history. Stories told by his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather.”

“And he believed them.”

“I don’t know if he really did, or if at the end it was just hope.”

“But you believe it.”

“Who was it who said that once you’ve eliminated the impossible, what remains is the truth, no matter how improbable it might be?”

“More fairy tales,” Jason said with a grimace. “Well, I haven’t eliminated anything yet. But I’m about to. That book is a joke, doling out little scraps of supposed fact in whatever order suits the purpose. A little here, a little there, just to nudge me in the right direction, because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? And there’s going to be a way to prove it. And trust me, Kendall, I’ll find that way.”

She slowed the car and pulled over to the curb. Jason looked at her, then out the window. “I have to go to the bank,” she said, a little abruptly. “And maybe it’s not such a good idea that you go to Aaron’s office. You’re still too angry.”

He didn’t deny it. “I don’t know what the truth is here, yet. Whether you’re in cahoots with the old lady, figuring you’ll scare me off with that threat of jail, whether you really think you can get your hands on that money through me, or whether you’re up to something else. But I’ll find out.”

“You left out a possibility. That I’m telling the truth.”

He laughed. “Lady, that’s so far down on the possibility scale it doesn’t even register.”

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically, beyond hiding her weary annoyance now. “I appreciate your faith and trust.”

“You want something to appreciate? How about a little advice?” He lifted the book again. “If you plan on trying to make this little fabrication about our future together come true, you might want to change your approach.”

“My approach?”

“You would have gotten a lot farther in that direction if you’d joined me last night.”

Joined him? It hit her then. Joined him in bed, he meant. For the first time in a long time, Kendall had to fight very hard to keep from blushing. The images that flashed through her mind astonished her. Her experience was, at best, limited, but somehow she was picturing things she’d never thought of doing, let alone ever done. And at a time when she should be angry, not having lewd fantasies about a man who was making her life so difficult. Her effort at control made her voice very cool as she gathered her scattered poise around her and made herself meet his eyes.