Final Mend (12 page)

“Lillian.” Garret's voice was weighted with authority and command, demanding attention. Everyone stopped to listen, turning to watch him. “Jake would like to see Amy so he can feel better about knowing she's okay. He's tense right now because he's worried about her. Will you allow him to have breakfast with her tomorrow? Can we pick her up in the morning and spend the day with her?” Garret's words were too pure, too smooth, and Jake looked at him in disbelief. Was this guy for real?

Lillian flustered under Garret's gaze. Even if he wasn't for real, whatever he was doing seemed to be working.

She swept her hair out of her eyes and fluttered her lashes. Nausea pulled at Jake's stomach. He supposed she'd try to seduce Garret now. Garret looked carved from steel and as far as Jake knew, was happily married, so he doubted Lillian could affect the man. But Jake had been surprised before.

“Yes, sure, of course.”

“Great,” Garret said. He handed her a card and wrote something on the back. “That's my number. I'll call you in the morning so we can arrange it. Is nine
a.m.
okay to call?”

In other words, would she still be hung over? Or at least, that was what Jake would have asked.

“Yes, yes. I'll talk to you then. Thanks for stopping by.”

Garret shook her hand. Winona nodded and turned away.

“See you tomorrow,” Garret called.

Jake followed Winona, stopping at a black four-door sedan parked next to his truck. He grabbed her hand before she could open the door and hide inside.

“What the hell?” Jake asked.

“We're going to lunch now,” Winona said. “We have things to discuss.”

“Jake, stay calm,” Garret warned. “We've arranged it so you get to see Amy tomorrow.”

“Oh, you've arranged it?” Jake spat. Garret barely knew him and Jake knew he should feel grateful, but right now animosity fueled him. “And what the hell are you doing here?”

“Trying to help your ass,” Winona said. “I wanted to talk to Lillian before I decided if I'd take the job. Garret came along for back-up.”

“And you didn't bother telling me?”

“No,” she said as she opened the passenger door, vehemence punctuating her movements.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn't want you to know.”

Jake followed them to the hotel. Winona knew he wanted to talk, but she didn't give him a chance. She went inside before he had a chance to park, and bolted to her room.

She wasn't ready to discuss anything with him. Not yet.

Fifteen minutes later, she received a text from Jake:
Am I not invited to lunch?

She called Reagan to ask if they were ready for lunch and if they would mind if Jake accompanied them.

“Not at all. But if you'd rather have some alone time with him—”

“No. I want you and Garret to come.”

“Okay. We'll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

She texted Jake that info, and then waited eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds before she went to the lobby, relieved to see Garret and Reagan had already arrived. They stood talking to Jake. Winona stopped beside Reagan and glanced at Jake, but he didn't even glance at her.

“Hey, girl,” Reagan said as she hooked her arm through Winona's. “We thought we might try the restaurant in this hotel. They have a good selection. If that's okay with you.”

“That's great. Where're Nick and Diana?”

“They aren't coming. You ready?”

The men followed and chatted; Winona had no idea what they discussed. Jake hadn't said hello to her, barely looked at her.

They sat, ordered water and tea, and Winona smoothed her napkin in her lap while Reagan and Garret continued chatting with Jake.

Hostility lined Jake's gaze every time he glanced at Winona, which was rarely seeing as how he was obviously doing his best to ignore her. That was fine because she'd just as soon ignored him, too. Her stomach tightened as he regaled Garret and Reagan with stories of his triathlon training and listened as they told him about Tanyon.

He seemed intrigued about their story on how they met, with Garret being an undercover FBI agent investigating Reagan, and about her innocence. At least it gave them something to talk about besides Jake's problems.

Winona had plans to ask him about a few of those problems as soon as they were alone.

Lunch took less than an hour. Once done, they stood in the lobby and continued to chat. Winona noticed Jake tried to look relaxed, but his jaw was tense, his shoulders stiff. His glances toward her remained hostile, as if he couldn't wait to get her alone and chew her out.

“We're going to go roam the town,” Reagan said as they made their way toward the elevator. “Any of you want to join us?”

“Not me,” Winona said as she lingered with people awaiting the elevator. She wanted to dart out of here as quickly as possible. “You go ahead. I'll catch up with you later.”

“Thanks for everything,” Jake said as he shook Garret's hand. When he extended his hand to Reagan, she ignored it and went in for a hug.

“Do you have a place to stay for the night?” she asked as she stepped away.

The elevator whooshed open. People exited, others entered.

“I managed to get a room here while I waited,” Jake said.

“Great. Well, call us if you need anything.”

Winona ducked into the elevator and the doors closed before Jake had a chance to react.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she was shut in her room.

She kicked off her shoes and paced, dwelling on her reaction to Jake. She had questions, and she didn't care how angry he was about her visit. Either her visit to Jackson and Lillian or to his hotel room, if only she could figure out his room number.

She stepped out of her room, but an empty hallway met her. She retreated to the room and paced, fumbling with the blinds as she glanced outside. Her phone buzzed, a text from Jake telling her his room number and asking for hers. She ignored him, using the time to brush her hair, change into comfortable clothes, and refresh her makeup. Hoping enough time had passed to either have him calm down or ignite his fury—and make him wonder about her—she went to his door.

He answered it wearing no shirt. She rolled her eyes and trundled through the doorway, leaving him to shut the door. She wondered if he'd worn no shirt on purpose.

His room was a suite, with a living area, kitchen, a table with four chairs, and the sleeping area all in one large room. She sat at one of the chairs.

“Nice of you to tell me your plans.” Jake wasted no time.

“It was none of your business, Jake. You asked me to take a job and I had to do my research.”

“And what did you discover with your research?” Jake pulled out a chair and sat opposite her.

“Nothing. Unfortunately, you interrupted.” Her chest swelled in doubt. Her ears prickled in anticipation of the answers she might not want to hear after the questions she had to ask.

“Why did you lie to me and tell me you were spending the day with Chayton? We were supposed to come here together tomorrow.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“Don't evade my question. You know I had a reason to lie.”

“You did?”

“Yes. If I take a job, I can't be honest with everyone, now can I?” She straightened her shoulders and studied him. “Tell me, what is your relationship with Lillian?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that if I'm going to take this job, I have to know everything.”

“You do know everything. I don't trust her, I think she killed my cousin, and I'm worried about Amy.”

“Are you worried about Amy because she's your cousin's child, or are you worried about her because she's yours?”

• • •

Jake shot out of his chair. It crashed to the floor. White-hot fury attacked his temples, jarring his ability to respond for a fraction of a second.

Un-fucking-believable.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“It's a simple question.”

“No, she's not my child. I'm her godfather. Her dad was … he was more than my manager.” His voice cracked. He raked a hand through his hair.

Brandon had always told Jake he'd become the sports manager he was because of Jake, but Jake swore he'd become the athlete he was because of Brandon. They were like brothers, the very best of friends, and he'd never soil his relationship with Brandon for any woman. Especially a callous, heartless woman like Lillian.

Lillian was exactly the type of woman he would have chosen in his drug-induced party days. He wondered if that was why he resented her and if, deep inside, he resented Brandon for that weakness. For choosing someone who had an addiction as if he could fix her as he'd “fixed” Jake.

She was egotistical, selfish, and didn't put anyone's needs before her own. Exactly as Jake had been in the past. Though her gambling addiction might not be physical, it still affected her life and those who cared about her.

He'd tried to warn Brandon away, but Brandon had fallen for her charm like half the men in this world who were craving attention from a needy woman. Brandon had enjoyed feeling needed and appreciated, and she gave him that tenfold.

“I never had that kind of relationship with Lillian. Didn't have a relationship with her at all. I didn't like her from the moment I met her. I thought she was bad news. Bad for Brandon.”

“Sit down, Jake.” Winona stood and retrieved the chair from the floor, readjusting it and patting the seat before returning to the other side of the small table.

He puffed out a breath and sat, dumping his head in his hands and urging the heat behind his eyes to stay dry. He did not want Winona to see him cry. But the emotions he'd held onto for so long, seeing Lillian today and not seeing Amy, he couldn't hold on any longer. His throat ached, his eyes burned, and his shoulders shook as he cried silent tears.

He felt her hands on the back of his neck and shoulders, softly rubbing and kneading but not speaking. He appreciated that about her. He didn't want or need words of comfort or pity. He wanted to grieve without feeling like a dumb fuck, like he wasn't allowed to cry, wasn't allowed any emotion. Like he was supposed to pick up his life and move on. Be a positive thinker, and all that crap.

He wasn't ready to pick up his life and move on. He'd canceled the rest of the month's triathlons and other obligations, and considered canceling the month after but hadn't made it that far yet.

He continued to cry—deeper, harder tears. She let him cry those tears, never speaking. Never trying to reassure him with words that didn't mean a fuck. He cried, and when his tears let up, he lifted his head to look at Winona. Her eyes were soft and wet, full of understanding, not pity.

His chest tightened, his pulse thump thumping in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he said. He hated to cry, but after recovering from alcohol and drugs for months and years on end, he'd learned he shouldn't feel ashamed of crying. Didn't make it any easier, though. He hated to make people uncomfortable.

She brushed her fingers along his unshaven jaw. Heat sparked under his skin, bursting his gut into flames. “Don't be sorry for having emotions you need to release. I'm sorry for having to ask the question. I just need to know everything you know so I can do my job.”

“Your job?”

“I've decided to take the job. If you still want to find out what happened to Brandon.”

“Of course I do.” His voice cracked again, but this time his emotions stabilized. This woman, strong and steady and unpredictable. At times he wanted to love her; at times he wanted to hate her.

“Okay. Then I'll tell you what I know,” Winona continued, her soft voice slicing a void in his heart and filling it with warmth. “Lillian has a gambling problem. Possibly a drug problem. And she has a million dollar insurance policy out on your cousin she's already cashed in.”

He stood, paced, and turned away from her so she wouldn't see the hate emblazoned on his face.

He knew she had a gambling problem. He wasn't entirely shocked by the drug problem. But the insurance policy? He'd suspected. He and Winona had discussed it. But a million dollars in which she was the sole beneficiary?

He wanted to kill Lillian. Amy would be better without her. What kind of future would Amy have living with a woman like her? He would do everything in his power to take custody. He could probably offer Lillian a million dollars and she'd gladly hand over her daughter. That was just the type of person she was.

Hard truth slammed into him. Maybe that was what she had planned. Had her plan backfired and Amy was found? If so, how long before Lillian tried again?

“Jake?” Winona lodged her hand on his shoulder. “Jake?” she said again, her concern surfacing through her soft voice.

He schooled his anger into a smile, storing it in the middle of his chest with a silent sigh before he turned to face her. Planting his forehead on hers, he said, “I'm okay.”

Thank God for Winona. How would he have made it without her? She was a spitfire, a humanitarian, someone who would fight until the end, even if at times she kept herself emotionally detached. He knew this job wouldn't be easy on her. She still blamed herself for a child's death from the last time she was hired to do a job. But she wouldn't be searching for Amy now that she was found. She'd be searching for the truth about Lillian while Jake did everything possible to take the child away from her.

Amy would be safe. He'd make damn sure of that.

His mouth came down on Winona's and she responded without hesitation. His tongue, sliding and taking, circled hers. Energy bulldozed him, the furor of all his emotions coming together in a firestorm. He planted his hands under her ass and lifted her. She looped her legs around his waist and he held her, kissing her, then backed her against the wall for support.