Erik gathered his dishes and started for the kitchen at the same time as Pete. The two brothers reached the door simultaneously, then Erik stepped back. “After you.”
Pete stared at him for a moment, then his mouth edged into a faint smile. “No, bro. You earned it. After you.”
Lars checked all the locks in the house at least three times before he headed up the hall toward his bedroom. Logically, he knew Erik was absolutely right. Dahlia was headed for someplace a lot safer than Konigsburg, and she had absolutely no reason to stop off at Jess’s place along the way.
All the same, he wished he had a Taser of his own. He picked up Jess’s baseball bat as he walked through the dining room. Field expedients were better than nothing.
He turned up the hall toward his room and stopped. Jess’s bedroom door was open, sending light streaming into the hall.
He walked closer and peered in. She stood in the middle of the room, unrolling her sleeping bag.
“Jess?”
She turned abruptly, then pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me!”
“Sorry.” He nodded toward the sleeping bag. “What’s with the bag?”
“I was just…” She shook her head.
“Just going to bed down in the kids’ room tonight?” He raised an eyebrow. “You know Erik’s right. There’s no reason for Dahlia to come here and a couple dozen reasons for her to stay away.”
“I know. But somehow that doesn’t make me feel as safe as it should.” She nodded at the baseball bat dangling from Lars’s hand. “You planning on doing a little batting practice?”
He sighed, leaning the bat against the wall. “Okay, so we’re both spooked. Do you want to talk about your mother-in-law?”
Jess shuddered slightly. “God, no.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
Jess raised her head, and he felt a jolt of arousal straight to his groin. Moss-green eyes, dark gold hair, lips spread in a faint grin. Dimples. He hadn’t seen those two dimples in days. He’d been starved for those dimples.
“What makes you think I want to talk, Lars?”
Jess lay on her back, eyes closed, trying to get up enough energy to move. Her bones had dissolved; her muscles were like water. It was a little like being Tasered, but in a good way.
She felt Lars’s fingers moving lightly down the inside of her thighs, stroking the smooth skin, his touch as light as a breath. She spread her legs wider, wanting him, needing him.
His fingers moved away and she almost moaned in protest. And then his tongue was tracing the same line, warm and soft, setting off flames wherever it touched.
Jess moaned softly, moving again, and felt Lars’s hands on her hips, holding her steady. A moment later, his fingers spread the folds of her sex and his tongue moved to her clit.
She jerked in reaction, but his hands held her again. His tongue moved slowly across the hardening bud, his mouth closing as he sucked. Jess bit her lip to keep from moaning louder.
One finger moved into her, then another, while his tongue slid across her again, leaving burning need wherever it touched. Jess buried her fingers in his thick soft hair, clutching him desperately as her hips jerked again.
“Easy,” he whispered, his hands sliding up her body. “Take it slow.”
“If you keep doing that much longer, I won’t be able to stop,” she moaned.
“Then don’t. Let go, Jess. Just let go.”
“Come with me,” she whispered. “I want you with me, Lars.” She stared up at him. The wide expanse of his shoulders as he propped himself above her. The broad chest, furred with dark hair. His eyes, black and sweet as molasses. “Please. Oh, please.”
He leaned down, running his tongue along the line of her body, her stomach, between her breasts, her collarbone. She felt his teeth against her shoulder, nipping her lightly. And then he drove inside her.
Jess wrapped her legs around him, tucking her heels against his buttocks, plunging him deeper into her body. Her back arched up, and her body strained to meet him. Once, again, again, again.
She was caught up in a warm vortex, her mind flying, a tornado whirling through her body. “Oh Christ,” she gasped, reaching for him. “Christ, Lars.”
He covered her mouth with his, drinking in her cries as she came, body jerking against his. And then he was groaning too, and she buried her fingers in his hair, holding his mouth against her own, feeling him plunge until the two of them were joined in one final writhing climax.
And then she collapsed against him, bones gone, muscles gone, mind gone to sweet oblivion as the world spun away.
She wasn’t sure how long they slept—probably less than an hour, although she checked the clock a little guiltily to make sure it wasn’t morning yet. Lars would have to go soon, of course. He couldn’t be with her when Daisy woke up, and Daisy woke up before anybody else.
She looked back at him again and found him watching her, dark eyes rimmed with thick lashes that would have looked feminine on a man who wasn’t six foot five or so and built like a lumberjack.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi yourself. Everything okay?”
His lips spread in a grin. “What do you think?”
Jess sighed, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his shoulder. “I think my body may never recover. You’ll probably have to pour me out of bed in the morning.”
“I can do that.” His lips brushed against her forehead and Jess felt her heart lurch slightly.
It doesn’t mean anything. Well, okay, it means
something
, but not anything serious.
Jess sighed. She wasn’t a great liar, particularly to herself. Usually she was better off just skirting around the truth rather than lying outright.
And the truth here was that she’d fallen hard for Lars Toleffson. Which didn’t necessarily mean they were right for each other in the long run. They both had kids. Responsibilities. Lives. They couldn’t go on doing this much longer.
Of course, if they could take care of Lydia Moreland and her plots, they wouldn’t have to. Lars could go back to his daily life, and she could go back to… Whatever it was she wanted to do.
Lars ran his hand down her back, his fingers bumping lightly along her spine. “Jess?”
She kept her eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his hands and trying hard not to think about anything else. “Mmm?”
“Who really runs things in the Moreland company—your mother-in-law or her older son?”
Jess groaned. Talking about the Morelands wasn’t at all what she wanted to do right now. “Preston runs the company. Lydia’s in charge of the family. She’d be the first to tell you that’s more important than anything Preston does. Why?”
“No reason.” Lars ran his hand along her thigh again. “What did your husband say about his brother? Is he as bad as she is?”
“Preston?” Jess rubbed her eyes. “Barry liked Preston. Sort of. He thought he was too much under Lydia’s thumb, but he thought he was all right.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
Tension began to invade her shoulders again. “Once. At the funeral. He stood on the other side of Barry’s grave and stared at me until the minister was finished. Then he walked over and gave me one of those looks that could turn you to stone if you were prone to that kind of thing.”
“What did he say?”
“‘Are you my brother’s wife?’ Which I guess is marginally more polite than ‘Who the hell are you?’ When I said I was, he nodded and then walked off. It was not the highlight of my day. And again I ask, why do you want to know?”
“And again I answer, no reason.”
Jess pushed herself up on her elbows. “You mean no reason you want to tell me. Lars, don’t try anything heroic, okay? Don’t get in any deeper with the Morelands than you already are, thanks to me. They’re dangerous people.”
Lars gave her a lazy grin, rubbing his hand from her thigh to her hip, sliding it across her belly to cup her breast. “Sweetheart, I’m an accountant. Heroism isn’t in my job description.”
Jess was about to answer him, to point out that he’d already shown more heroism than most men she’d known, that he’d been a hero to her and to Jack. But by then Lars was using his other hand too, stroking her in places that made her brain turn to mush.
The Morelands could wait. Preferably until Judgment Day.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Preston Moreland checked his schedule one more time. An hour. He had an entire hour without an appointment.
Of course, an hour didn’t give him time to do much. He couldn’t make it to the gym and back. He couldn’t go to his tailor’s to get the final alterations on his new suit. He couldn’t go home and check on Bunny.
Not that Bunny would have wanted him to check on her. Even pregnant, Bunny didn’t like to feel that she needed supervision. Preston could sympathize. He’d always hated supervision himself, although god knows he’d had to put up with enough of it in his own life.
The buzz of the interoffice phone brought his attention back to the present. He sighed. Probably something that would eat up his free hour. Of course, it wasn’t really free. As long as he was in his office, he was on duty. He flipped the switch. “Yes?”
“Mr. Moreland? There’s a call for you on line two.” His secretary’s voice was briskly efficient as usual. She’d probably have been happy to book something into this hour if she’d noticed it was empty.
“Who is it?”
“A Mr. Toleffson. He said he wanted to speak with you about someone named Jessamyn Carroll.”
Preston’s left hand jerked into a fist. Jessamyn Carroll. He’d thought that had been taken care of. Hampton and his staff were supposed to have it in hand. Unless, of course, his mother had gotten herself involved. Then all bets were off.
Preston closed his eyes, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Chances were very good indeed that Mother
had
gotten involved. “All right, Miss Cowell, I’ll deal with it.” He punched the button for line two. “Yes, what is it?”
“Mr. Moreland?”
“This is Preston Moreland. Who are you?”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before the voice began again. “My name is Lars Toleffson, Mr. Moreland. I’m a friend of Jessamyn Carroll and her son.”
“Why are you calling me, Mr. Toleffson? Is my sister-in-law ready to bring my nephew back home where he belongs?” Preston kept his voice brisk, with a slight touch of irritation. No hint that this was important information in any way. That would only raise the price.
“Your sister-in-law is where she belongs now, Mr. Moreland. She’s in her home. I have something that belongs to your mother. I thought you might like to reclaim it.”
Preston’s chest clenched. As he’d feared, Mother had done something. And he was willing to bet that whatever she’d done wouldn’t be easy to deal with. It never was. “What do you have, Mr. Toleffson, and how much do you want to give it back?”
“I have her words, Mr. Moreland. Let me play you a short sample. Then we can talk about how you can reclaim them.”
There was a click on the other end of the line, and Preston heard voices, sounding slightly distant, as if he were listening to a conversation in another room.
“You want to ensure you grandson’s safety. Am I to assume you don’t feel the same way about his mother?”
“His mother’s safety is her own affair. I have no interest in it one way or the other.”
“In fact, if his mother were to meet with an accident of some kind it would simplify things greatly, wouldn’t it?”
“I believe his mother has no living relatives. The Moreland family would, of course, assume responsibility for the child should anything happen to his mother.”
Preston swallowed hard. His mother’s voice was unmistakable. He supposed it was possible to fake the recording, but he didn’t think this was a fake. In fact, he was fairly certain it wasn’t. It sounded just like her.
When Toleffson came back on the line, his voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact. “The woman your mother hired to abduct your nephew is in custody. She gave the police the recordings of their conversations.”
Preston unclenched his hand. “What woman? That didn’t sound like a woman.”
“She used a device to disguise her voice, probably to keep your mother from discovering her identity. She’s been charged with attempted kidnapping and assault and battery.”
Preston licked his lips. “Attempted kidnapping?”
“Yes. She didn’t succeed. The child has been returned to his mother.” Toleffson’s voice hardened. “Fortunately, neither of them suffered any serious harm. But of course both of them were traumatized.”
Preston took a deep breath. Clearly, it was time to reassert control of this conversation. “Mr. Toleffson, I don’t know what you think you have here, but I can assure you it has nothing to do with me or my mother. Do not attempt to contact either of us again. I’ll alert my attorneys.”
“That won’t work, Mr. Moreland.” Toleffson’s voice sounded almost as cold as his mother’s had. “The police have the woman’s testimony. Plus they’ve got your sister-in-law’s story about your mother’s actions toward her in the past. Plus they have these recordings. And then there’s the fact that your mother’s phone number is on the kidnapper’s cell phone.”
Preston’s grip on the receiver tightened again convulsively.
Damn, damn, damn.
“What exactly do you want, Mr. Toleffson? Or rather, how much do you want?”
“I don’t want any of your money, Mr. Moreland. I want you to come down here and deal with this. There are some people who need to speak with you.”
Preston licked his lips. The man was clearly insane. “Why would I do that, Mr. Toleffson? So that you can blackmail me more effectively? I have no intention of traveling anywhere.”
“You’ll do that, Mr. Moreland, because you don’t want it publicized that your mother hired someone to kill your sister-in-law and kidnap your nephew. I thought we’d established that.” Toleffson’s voice had lost any matter-of-fact quality. He sounded cold to the bone.
A chill moved down Preston’s spine. “Is my mother going to be charged with some kind of crime?”
“There’s always that possibility, since she actually committed one. The FBI has jurisdiction over interstate kidnapping. The recordings will eventually be turned over to them. However, as I said, I prefer to have this conversation face to face. Let’s say you’ll come down here by the end of the week. Saturday, to be exact.”
Preston sank back into his desk chair. “Saturday where? Where are you calling from?”
“Sorry. I should have told you. I’m in Konigsburg, Texas. It’s about seventy miles northwest of San Antonio. Let me know when you’ll be arriving in San Antonio and I’ll give you directions.”
Preston took a deep breath. One more chance to smooth over this debacle. “I repeat—I’m not going anywhere. If we talk about this, we’ll talk here in Belle View. Let me know when you arrive.”
There was a pause on the other end, then Toleffson spoke again, his voice flat. “You haven’t figured this out yet, have you, Moreland? Your mother committed a serious crime. It’s only luck that no one was injured or worse because of her plans. You can face the consequences with her or you can come down here and talk to me. There are no other choices.”
Preston stared down at his bronze desk set. Actually, his father’s bronze desk set on his father’s desk in his father’s office. In his father’s company. He was responsible for all of that, as his mother never tired of telling him. He was also responsible for his mother, as his father had told him on his deathbed.
Or rather, as his father had warned him.
“All right. I’ll be there on Saturday. Do you want me to meet you at the police station?”
“The police station?” Preston could swear the man was grinning. “Oh no, Mr. Moreland. I’m not a cop. I’m something much worse. I’m the man who loves your sister-in-law. See you Saturday.”
Lars called Jess in the middle of the afternoon to say he was bringing dinner with him that night. It was just as well. She’d spent most of the day at the cabin cleaning up after a party of five who’d clearly had a very exciting Thanksgiving. She was only glad they hadn’t succeeded in burning the place down, although it looked like they’d given it a good try, at least as far as blackening the oven and stove went.
Daisy was whiny and bored. Jack was whiny and restless. Jess was just whiny. She figured she was entitled.
Lars arrived with a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza a little after six. Daisy announced she didn’t like mushrooms. Lars pointed out that she’d always liked them before. Daisy didn’t deign to reply. Lars picked the mushrooms off her piece, sighing, while Jess managed to shovel some strained squash into Jack before he lost interest.
Fortunately for everyone, both children went to bed early. Jess flopped down at the dining room table again and took a slice of pizza, her first. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Consider it a bribe. I’ve got something I need your help with.”
“What?” Jess nibbled on some mozzarella, letting herself settle back in her chair for what felt like the first time all day.
He picked up his own slice of pizza. “I called Preston Moreland this morning.”
Her hand shot forward again, dropping her pizza slice back in the box. “You did what?”
“I called him. Pre-emptive strike, sort of.”
“I assume there was a plan behind this,” she said through gritted teeth.
Lars shrugged again. “Somebody had to tell the man what his mother was up to. Even if it’s not likely she’ll be charged with anything, thanks to Dahlia taking off. And somebody has to stop Lydia Moreland.”
Jess shook her head. “Preston won’t stand up against his mother. Nobody in that family has ever stood up to Lydia, except for her husband. Preston will be more likely to turn the whole thing over to the lawyers and let them deal with it. Or even just turn it over to Lydia and let her do what she wants to do.”
“I don’t think so, Jess. I played him a little of the recording. He seemed to take it seriously. God knows I did.”
She bit her lip. “Maybe I should hear that recording for myself.”
His eyes were bleak. “I’ll consider it.”
“So what do we do now? Wait for Preston to make the next move?”
Lars rubbed his fingers on a napkin. “I’ve already made the next move. He’ll be down here on Saturday. We can discuss what needs to be done then.”
“Oh, god,” she whispered, closing her eyes again. “He’ll tell Lydia. If she knows where I am, she’ll send people after me—and Jack.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if Moreland will tell his mother about this or not, but he’s not going to let her do anything else. Not if he wants to keep this quiet—and my guess is he does. He knows she’s busted. And he knows what this kind of publicity could do to his company. His next step will probably be to try to buy us off, assuming he can figure out how much we want.”
Jess blew out a breath, leaning back in her chair again. “Probably. That’s also the way the family operates—throw money at anybody who might make trouble. What is it you want me to do?”
“I’ve gotten him to come down here. Now I need to scare him into leaving you alone for good. The cops can’t charge him or his mother, not without Dahlia around. But I’ve got some other ways to convince him to back off.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I’m going to outline some consequences he’ll want to avoid. We’ve got the threat of publicity on our side. We can tell them we’re talking to reporters. It might even be true by then.” He tapped his fingers on the table as he thought. “I’ll also say a few general things about there being an ongoing investigation into his mother’s activities, which is also true as far as it goes. Given the whole mess with Dahlia, somebody’s going to be investigating something.”
“If he brings the family lawyers along, that won’t work. I’ve seen them in action. They’ll just get an injunction or something.” She fought the urge to lean against his shoulder. Now was definitely not the time.
“Yeah, if he brings the lawyers, we’re probably screwed. On the other hand…”
“What?”
“Moreland might not want his lawyers to know what his mother has been up to, given the nature of the crime. He might want to keep this a secret from everybody. Particularly if he thinks he can buy us off.”
“And you think he does?”
Lars nodded. “It was his first response—how much did I want?”
Jess chewed her lip for a minute, considering possibilities. “Are you going to tell Pete and Erik about this?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to get them involved—it could cause them all kinds of trouble. It’s just going to be Moreland and me.”
“And me.” She swallowed hard, feeling her heart hammer. “I’m the one with the major interest here. I want to talk to Preston face to face.”
His fingers closed over hers. “You don’t have to do this, Jess. You can take Jack somewhere and hide out until it’s over. I’ll tell you everything that happens.”
She shook her head. “Lydia threatened me. And my son. I’m not going to let her get away with that. I want to make sure Preston knows just what his mother did this time. Even if he doesn’t do anything about it, at least he’ll have to admit to himself what she’s capable of.”
Lars nodded slowly. “He’ll know that. I promise.”
“Where do you want to hold this meeting—your office?”
He shook his head. “Too public. I’d like to keep my brothers and their friends from finding out what we’re doing. And I’d like to keep gossip from spreading through Konigsburg. I have a feeling Moreland’s going to be noticeable.”
“We could bring him out here.” Jess swallowed. “Only I don’t want him to be near Jack. Just in case. I’ll need to find someone to look after him.”
“No, I don’t think this would be a good place. We want him to think we’ve got some power behind us. This place is great, Jess, but it’s not the kind of place Preston Moreland would be impressed with.”
“So where?”
“I’ll ask Docia if we can use her house.”
Jess narrowed her eyes at him. “The barn? It’s a great house, but I never thought of it as all that impressive.”
“Not the barn. Buckhorn.”
She shook her head. “Excuse me?”
“Buckhorn. It’s her dad’s hunting place. It’s up in the hills about ten miles from town. That’s where we should do this, preferably in the trophy room.”
“I don’t…why would a hunting cabin be a good place to meet?”
He gave her a dry smile. “It’s a lodge, not a cabin. Buckhorn is the size of a boutique hotel, and the trophy room is around the length of a football field.”