Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes (30 page)

Ian stayed mute as he opened containers, exposing lasagne, barbeque and mixed greens, and popped some into the microwave to warm up. He poured Merlot into two of Emma’s champagne flutes and took a seat on the red leather barstool next to Taylor, downing the serving of wine he’d given himself.

“What does wine do to you? Relax you or make you want to table dance?” he asked.

Taylor chuckled into her glass. “It’s relaxing. Like my work. It might seem like the wrong career, but I love it. You know this place is just as homey as mine. Do you know who did all the work?”

He shook his head. “No idea. It functions, and someone else made it happen. That’s what makes me happy.” The microwave beeped, and Ian went to it as the front door slammed.

“Oh, my freaking hell.” Emma stormed into the kitchen, threw her black bag on the counter and faced Ian and Taylor respectively.

Taylor set her glass down as Ian put her plate of food in front of her. “We’ll just—”

“Sit,” Ian said. “What’s wrong, Em?” He continued on with the dishing out of food and the follow-through warm-up.

Emma yanked at the red bow keeping her blond hair tucked behind her head. “You will
not
believe this guy I went out with. Three weeks and nothing. No sex. No kiss. Just wanted to get information for some article about Rune. Dammit. Am I losing my touch?” Her hand patted her chest over the red, sleeveless v-neck that glittered under the simple kitchen lights. “Have I gotten old? Is almost thirty and a half too much for people? It’s not like I was looking for a permanent thing.” She turned to the fridge as Ian took his seat again and winked at Taylor.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he shook his head.

Emma turned back from the fridge, one hand still on the handle. “Am I ugly, Ian?”

Minefield! Minefield! Abort! Abort! You already screwed up once tonight. Do not answer. Walk away! Run!
Ian filled his mouth to avoid having to add any commentary.

Emma dropped her elbows on the counter. A second later, she lifted up and grabbed a glass, poured it full of wine and leaned her hip into the edge. “Maybe it’s the jeans. They are my fat pants.”

Ian nearly spit out his food, his lips fluttering and pursing to hold it in.

Taylor chuckled. “I have a pair of those, too. Best things I ever purchased.” She held up her glass, and Emma clinked it. “So, where’d you meet this guy? Any place I should stay away from?” Taylor’s fork hit her plate as Ian turned to her.

He pointed to himself with his pasta-wrapped utensil.

Taylor’s shoulder nudge set his nerves tingling, though he wondered for a second at her comment about seeking out others. Before she could speak, he forced his dinner down, leaned over and took her lips with his. Taylor’s brief shriek faded before he let go.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“To remind you why you don’t want to go to the bars and joints Emma finds herself in where stupid men hang out who don’t take care of her.” Ian offered Emma a wink.

She rolled her eyes at him and pulled a bucket of ice cream from the freezer.

“I was trying to be supportive. See if I offer to empty out your fridge again in the future.” He waved his fork at her again.

Her chuckle sent the tension flying from the room.

“So, this guy?” Taylor interrupted their banter.

“Met him at the grocery store. He was buying melons, you know, and holding them up like boobs.”

Ian sat straight. “And, that turned you on to him?”

Emma waved. “He wasn’t actually doing that, Ian. Just weighing them, and I told him he should be careful with the produce otherwise someone might mistake him for a transvestite.”

“You did not,” Taylor said, her fork clattering to her plate.

“Why not? It worked.” Emma shrugged as she dug into the ice cream. “I should have seen it coming, though. He’d ask me questions about me, but mostly, he was scoping out the city.” She sucked on a big spoonful of some chocolatey-looking frozen concoction, probably one she’d made herself. “Then, tonight—” She stopped, squished up her lips and pointed to them.

“Got peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth?” Taylor asked.

Emma nodded. A few more shakes of her head occurred before she opened her mouth again. “Phew. Okay, so, tonight he says, ‘Well, Emma, my work in town is almost done. I’ll be taking my leave of you soon.”

“He sounds polite,” Taylor said.

“He sounds like a pansy.” Ian earned a glare from both women. He backed off and focused on his food.

“So, I asked him when he was leaving. And, he said ‘soon, soon’, but I might not see him again, so he wished me well.” Her fist slammed on the counter. The plates and glasses all jumped. “Can you believe that? I totally got blown off.”

Ian kept his eyes cast down.

“All you men suck,” Emma said, though Ian heard the love.

He popped back up. “Okay, who’s this dastardly dickhead? I shall take my leave of you two beautiful women and go pummel him. If nothing else, for making you so mad you messed up my foraging.”

Emma belted out a laugh. “Oh, God, Ian. You can be funny when you aren’t trying to be mean.” She stood straight again and stared at him. “You’d do that for me?” Her hands crossed over her chest.

“Enh. It’s nothing.” He added a small shrug.

Taylor’s laugh mixed with Emma’s.

“Jason Porter hasn’t seen anything if you’re coming after him.”

Taylor jerked so hard her entire seat wobbled.

Ian caught her before she toppled. “You okay?”

She coughed into her hand. “Did you say Jason Porter?”

“Yeah.” Emma waved another spoon full of ice cream.

Ian’s worry ratcheted up a notch. “What’s wrong, Taylor?”

“That’s the name of one of Tanner’s friends—the ones who fell off the bell tower in Alabama.”

• • •

Taylor pushed the stool back from the counter and stood. “What does this guy look like, Emma?” Taylor’s hands shook, and she clenched and released them in a bid to relieve the tension.

“Jason Porter isn’t a particularly unique name.” Ian scooped up another bite of his food.

“I know. I just—I need to know.”

“Okay,” Emma said. “He was … um … about six feet, maybe a little more. Dark hair, pretty super-white, like no tan and had brown eyes. Actually his hair was brown, too.”

Taylor dropped her face into her palms. “Not him. Thank God.” She tugged at her hair, stepping away from Emma and Ian. “I just can’t help but think Tanner’s involved again. With me. The bones. Something. Whether it’s a legit concern or not.”

Ian wrapped his arms around her. “Hey.” His voice soothed even as torment reigned in her mind. “Remember. One … he’s dead. Two … how in the hell would he have known those bones were there? He couldn’t have. So, he’s not involved in that. Three … well, I’m not sure there’s a three.”

“Coincidences are just that,” Emma said. “Odd combinations of stuff that people make more of in their heads.”

The firmness of Ian’s chest warmed Taylor as her frustration mounted, ebbed, grew again and slowed. “I’m so tired. That’s got to be what it is.”

“We’ll just be going now,” Ian said as if he could read Taylor’s thoughts.

“Take some leftovers?” Emma asked.

“Later. Taylor owes me breakfast. From scratch.”

Emma pointed her spoon at Taylor. “I saw your fridge last week. All you have are sweet rolls and old, dry cereal. You’ll be back by nine. With empty stomachs.” She nodded, licking her spoon in the process.

• • •

Taylor reached her arms above her head, smiling when she hit her own headboard. The realization that no dreams had plagued her sleep arrived as she rolled beneath her blankets and found Ian’s eyes open, his gaze fixed on her.

“Good morning.” Her purr would have told anyone how she’d slept.

“Hi,” he said back. “Sleep well, I take it?”

She closed her eyes. “Yeah. Very. How long you been awake?”

“Five minutes. Or less. You moved. I woke.”

Taylor leaned forward and snatched a kiss from Ian’s lips. “You know what I’m craving?”

“What?”

“One of those sweet rolls Emma reminded me of last night. My neighbor brought them over yesterday. I didn’t even get to eat one before I was whisked away to New York for the day.”

Ian pushed up from his spot. “Where are they?”

Taylor’s brows furrowed. “They were on the counter, but Mama probably put them in the breadbox or the microwave since I never even locked up.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed her. “Then, I’ll find one and bring it to you.”

“Really?” Her eyes opened wide. “I didn’t take you for a cook.”

“Yes, really. And that’s not cooking. Plus … I can find food when I need to.” He slipped from the bed without grabbing any covering.

Taylor’s little-girl giggle took hold. “Are you about to go into my kitchen stark naked?”

“Yeah. Got a problem with it?”

Her fit of laughter continued even as she grabbed pillows and stuffed them behind her back to prop herself up.

“What’re you doing?” He stopped at the edge of her bed.

“I’m watching the show. Don’t want to miss the second act or the encore performance.”

Ian strutted the rest of the way through the door until he disappeared from sight. Taylor tracked his footsteps through her house, down the hallway, into the wide expanse of her living room and to the kitchen. Cabinets opened and closed. The sucking sound as the fridge doors opened and the swishing as they closed reached her.

“Taylor?”

“Yeah?” She pitched her voice so he’d hear, and she wouldn’t have to get up.

“I’m not seeing any rolls.”

“Check the breadbox.”

“I did.” Silence ensued. “Actually, I’m not seeing a few things. Didn’t we leave the mail from Sherrill on your counter? So I could send that picture to Michael?”

Taylor threw the covers off, grabbing her robe on the way out of her room. Panic set in, tightening her chest. “What do you mean?” She went straight to the spot where she’d left the photos. A run through of the envelopes left her with bills and junk, but nothing from Sherrill. She strode to her microwave, to the pantry, even checked her fridge. No sweet rolls.

“Maybe Mama came over. Let me just call her.” A turn brought her to the wall phone, and with a few presses of buttons, the connection rang out.

“Hi, Baby. Back already?” her mom asked.

“Yeah. Late last night. Um …”

“Need me to bring breakfast?” A small chuckle came from the background. “You didn’t eat all those sweet rolls already, did you? That’ll add a few pounds.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, happy not to be seen. “You took one to Daddy, right?”

“Yes. He ate it right up last night. Said it was the best one since … well … forever.”

“Okay. Good.”

Mumbles from within her parent’s home came through the line, but Taylor couldn’t understand them. “Your daddy suggests you heat up the extras in the oven for a pinch over ten minutes instead of wasting them in that microwave. They taste much better that way.”

A shiver raced down Taylor’s body. She faced Ian and closed her eyes. “Thanks, Mama. I gotta go, just wanted to let you know I was back. Oh, and Ian’s with me.”

“Aw, darling, that’s great. Does he need a place to stay while he’s here?”

Taylor nearly snorted her laugh but managed to hold it back. “No. He can stay at Tripp and Lexi’s.” She gave Ian a wink. A point to the phone should have told him the real reason for her answer.

“Well, how about your father and I treat you two to dinner one night?”

“That’d be great.”

“Okay, let me see what night we’re free, and I’ll call ya’ll back. How long is Ian staying?”

“Uh …” Taylor wanted to say ‘forever’. “Not sure. Just call me and let me know.”

“Okay. Take care then.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Taylor replaced the phone in its cradle.

Ian snuck up to her, his hands against her hips. “You’re shivering.” He pulled her tighter against him.

Taylor laid her head against his chest. “Someone’s been in my house.”

28

An immediate need to race through the rooms with a weapon in hand filled Ian. “What do you mean, someone’s been in your house? I’ve been here. Your mom has.” He misinterpreted on purpose.

Taylor’s head moved side to side against his chest. “No, I mean, someone …
else
.”

Yeah, I know.
“Do you have a cleaning service?”

“No.”

Damn.
“Anyone else got keys?”

“Just Mama and Daddy. And Riley—”

Riley.

“—but he only has them for emergencies.”

Emergencies. Right.
Ian held Taylor out so he could look into her eyes. “You need to call him.”

“And do what? Ask him if he’s been in my house and stolen my sweet rolls—”

“And the photo.”

Taylor spun away from Ian. “He wouldn’t do that, and it was midnight. He’d have been asleep.” She paced the length of the kitchen, to the bay window, around the table and back. “He wouldn’t.”

Ian held up his hands. “He could have borrow—”

“Riley wouldn’t do that without telling me. He’s a police officer. He has high standards.” She stared up at Ian, her feet braced as if for attack.

Ian went to her and took her in his arms. “Through all my years, there’s one thing Tripp and I have always vowed.”

“What’s that?” Her arms went around his neck.

“To listen to our gut. If it’s talking, and it’s not gas, it’s important.”

Chuckles bumped her against him. “And what is your gut saying?”

“That Riley needs to know about this.”

Taylor rolled her eyes as well as any teenager. “If I tell Riley about this, he’s going to flip out, and will try to hide me under a bush or lock me up ‘for my own safety’.” The latter part came out as pure sarcasm.

“Sometimes,” Ian said, “we do what we have to do.”

• • •

Three phone calls and one drive-thru run later, Ian and Taylor’s car crunched gravel in Lexi and Tripp’s driveway. Riley’s black pickup waited, with him standing at the front. Emma rocked in a chair on the wide expanse of porch, and, Ian assumed, Lexi and Tripp waited inside. He parked, grabbed the bags of biscuits and goodies from the back seat, and slipped from the car.