Kane (10 page)

“Now, baby,” her cousin complained, “you know what I want.”

“Don't call me baby!” she yelled into the phone. “I want you to take my son back where he belongs.”

“Sure, sure, I promise. When you're done with the job down there.”

She breathed in quick gasps, trying to think. “I'm no miracle worker, Gervis. I can't find out secrets that aren't there or manufacture crooked deals where there aren't any.”

“You can do something, damn it! How you coming with Benedict? Are you close enough to work on him?”

“Work on him how?”

“Talk to him, come on to him, screw his brains out. Hell, Gina, you're a female. Figure it out for yourself.”

Horror shafted through her. “I can't do that!”

“You'd better try. I turned down the old man's offer and now they're upping the ante, hinting about millions in damages. They win, I'll be bankrupt. I want the goods, and I don't care what you have to do to get them.”

“But you know how I feel. You know why.” He was the only one who did, the single person who had stood behind her during that terrible time. She couldn't believe what he was asking of her now.

“I know you've been hiding behind that for years. It's time you got over it.”

“But what if—”

“Don't ‘what if' me, Gina. I'm doing you a favor here, making you face this, if you want the truth. Lots of people have bad things happen. They don't let it get to them, but pick themselves up and go on. You get in there and do whatever it takes. Use your imagination, your feminine wiles, your tits and ass. Hell, I don't care. We got a week, give or take, to get something and figure out how to use it. Either you do this for me or you can expect to be sorry.”

“You wouldn't hurt Stephan, you couldn't.”

“I won't have to if you come through for me, now will I? But all I got to do anyway is tell him what a bastard his old man was. Tell him how his mama nearly died having him. We could have a nice discussion about what a terrible thing it is, the way the law forces girls who are children themselves to carry babies that come from rape. Especially babies with
problems. You think that'll make him feel good, huh, Gina?”

“How can you do this? How can you even think of it?” she cried, her voice thick with unshed tears. “He's like your own. We're family!”

“Families stick with each other, Gina. I've been begging for your help here, and you keep making excuses.”

“I told you I'm trying,” she said thickly.

“And I'm telling you I'm a desperate man. Maybe you'll believe me now. Maybe you'll be desperate, too, so you'll get something done. What do you think, Gina? Think you can find out what I need to know now?”

Before she could answer, the phone was slammed down on the other end. She sat motionless, staring at nothing, until the automatic request to hang up came on the line. Then she dropped her own receiver into its cradle and put her hands to her face. She pressed hard against the facial bones as a shudder ran over her. Tears seeped from her eyes, trickling through her fingers.

Stephan was the most important thing in life to her, her whole world. He was so young, so sweet and defenseless. How could anyone hurt him? The very thought made her feel as if her heart were being squeezed in a vise.

Surely Gervis didn't mean what he threatened? Her cousin was only trying to frighten her. He had been so good to Stephan from the time he was born, had brought in a nanny when he was a baby and, later, paid the bills for expert evaluation, a special school. She would never have made it without Gervis.

She owed him so much, had wanted to do something in return for so long. Coming to Turn-Coupe was the first major thing he had ever asked. If not for her gratitude and sense of obligation, she wouldn't be here.

Still, Gervis had changed in the past few months. She hardly knew him. It was worry over business that caused it, she thought. Now the fear that he might lose everything he had worked so hard to gain had pushed him over the edge. That was it, it had to be.

He had started with nothing, a welfare kid from the back streets of Brooklyn. His father had died shortly after he was born, and his mother, left alone, could never quite cope. She had depended on wine and fashion magazines to get her through the days. She'd lived on dreams of striking it rich, winning the lottery or some sweepstakes, too involved in the fantasy and her depression to be much of a parent. Taking in Regina after her mother died had been an act with more heart than practicality, even if she had been Regina's mother's best friend. It hadn't lasted all that long in any case. Gervis's mother had died of a prescription drug overdose barely five years later, when Regina was fifteen.

After that, it had been just her and Gervis. As he was reminding her now. He needed her, and she couldn't afford to fail him.

If he harmed Stephan, she would never forgive him. Nor could Gervis ever live with himself. Or so she would have thought just a few days ago.

It was possible she was wrong.

She had never dreamed he would ask her to spy for him, either. And the last thing she expected was that he would demand she sleep with his worst enemy.

R
egina felt as if a thousand people were watching her as she climbed the steps of Chemin-a-Haut on Saturday evening. There were guests everywhere, wandering under the trees in the lingering light of dusk, chatting in groups on the wide front veranda, or gallery, of the West Indies–style house, or clustered in the open parlor that stretched across its width with double French doors both front and rear. They were all age groups, it seemed, from youngsters who ran and played on the lawn, reminding her achingly of Stephan, to teens clustered on the stairs and older couples gathered near a bank of rocking chairs. They were all enjoying the relative coolness of the early summer twilight caused by gathering clouds, the music played by a Cajun band set up on the back gallery, the food and drink spread in abundance, and each other.

She was forced to acknowledge after a few minutes that the supposed spotlight was in her own mind. She attracted a friendly nod or two and quite a few smiles, but there was nothing focused about it. If speculation crossed the faces of those around her, it was perhaps not unusual since she was a stranger and obviously out of place.

She was an interloper, but that was nothing new.
She had always been that, or so it seemed, always on the outside, with no real place of her own. It didn't matter. She wasn't here to become a part of the community or this family.

That rationalization made no difference; she was still on edge. She had to breathe in a deep and slow rhythm to prevent herself from turning tail and running like a rabbit. She couldn't do this, she just couldn't. What Gervis wanted of her was impossible.

She had never set out deliberately to attract a man, had not even tried it in high school. The very idea made her feel awkward and embarrassed. It seemed everybody who glanced at her should be able to tell what she had in mind.

Not that she decked herself out as a femme fatale. Her wardrobe didn't run to low-cut silk or satin even at home in New York; she certainly hadn't tossed any garment remotely seductive into her suitcase for this trip. A straight black suit skirt with a knit shell of cream silk and a wide belt pulled a notch tighter than usual was the best she'd been able to do. Her main effort had been to leave her hair down on her shoulders instead of clipping it back out of the way.

She'd also substituted plain contact lenses for her colored ones at the last moment. She felt naked and oddly vulnerable without the turquoise shading between her and the world. Still, they were an experiment that had become a habit. She hadn't been hiding behind them as Kane suggested. If he preferred her without them, however, then why not? He was the person she had to please, one way or another.

She saw Luke at once. He was moving here and there on the front gallery, playing host while looking
rakish and engaging in a pair of close-fitting black jeans and a white dress shirt. Clinging to his arm was a giggling girl with her blond hair cut in a style that made her head look like a shaggy chrysanthemum blossom. He seemed to be teasing her just to hear her giggle.

Kane's grandfather was on the back gallery talking to an African-American in a pin-striped suit who she thought might be Kane's partner. She almost went to join them, but decided against it when she saw other friends approach the pair. She didn't want to look as though in search of a safe haven.

If Mr. Lewis was on hand, however, it seemed likely Kane had arrived, as well. She searched the crowd more diligently, locating him seconds later.

He was talking to a willowy-looking woman with a spill of long brown hair that glinted with golden highlights. They appeared absorbed in each other, there in their parlor corner, oblivious to anything else going on around them.

Kane was casual perfection in jeans and a blue chambray shirt as he leaned one elbow on the wall above his companion. The woman had her back pressed to the wall and her hands behind her while she looked up in serious consideration at the man next to her. Kane almost smoldered with the intensity of his concentration. The woman, wearing plum-colored silk that draped and flowed around her, appeared graceful and more elegant in a purely Southern manner than anyone Regina had ever seen.

She felt outclassed. It wasn't a promising start for the evening.

Just then, Kane glanced in her direction. His gaze,
midnight blue with consideration, held hers for long seconds before he nodded with a lifted brow, as if surprised to see her. A flush rose to her face and she lifted her chin. She hadn't said she wouldn't attend the party, just that she didn't need him as escort.

He seemed so sure of himself and his place in the world as he stood there. Tall, wide shouldered, good-looking with his shining dark hair, the high slashes of his cheekbones, and determined chin, he was a man at ease with his own body. He was also surrounded by his family and friends, protected by their connection to him as she had never been protected in her life. He looked to be solid establishment, yet had a reputation for being unpredictable, not quite tame. Like his cousin, he seemed something of a throwback to his rugged, freebooter ancestors. How was she ever supposed to get close to him when he needed nothing and no one? Where was she to start?

Most of all, what was she going to do if she succeeded?

She had no clue whether she was capable of the cold-blooded approach to physical intimacy suggested by Gervis. The very thought filled her with dread. Regardless, she was aware of a heated, flooding sensation as she looked at Kane Benedict. The memory of the way he had kissed her as they lay in the coffin made her lips tingle. The feel of his arms around her, his long-fingered hands upon her, lingered in her mind with an odd sensation that was almost like longing. There had been such strength and security in his arms, even as she shrank from the threat he represented.

The humid breeze filtering through the open doors at the back of the house swirled a little more strongly,
flapping the edges of a tablecloth, making dishes on a sideboard rattle together with a bell-like chime. Its coolness felt good on Regina's warm face.

Was Gervis right? Was she capable of overcoming her aversion to the touch of a man? She didn't know, she really didn't. She had lain awake most of the night before, thinking of Kane and trying to picture how it might be between them. The idea was paralyzing, but there was also fascination in it. He affected her as no man ever had. If the situation were normal, if she could get to know him in a simple, pleasant manner with no time constraints, then perhaps it might work.

Time for that was not available. The guilt and fear of discovery she felt, added to the urgent need for seduction, made it unlikely she could ever relax enough to have a normal relationship.

She had to try. If she reached the point where making love with Kane was unavoidable, maybe she could fake it. Or else close her eyes and think of something else, perhaps the pieces of shining jewelry worn by Victorian ladies who had been no more excited by sex than she was. Antique jewelry had always had that ability to soothe her and take her out of herself, away from all that was disturbing or disagreeable.

“So you did come. I was afraid you wouldn't.”

The deep, masculine voice laced with humor and appreciation came from behind her, right beside her ear. She whirled on a sharp gasp, facing Luke with her eyes wide and her heart pounding in her throat.

“Whoa, slow down, beautiful lady. I didn't mean to startle you.” He put a firm hand on her arm in a calming gesture.

She managed a smile even as she wondered if she
looked as furtive as she felt. “I guess I'm a little jumpy.”

“No need to be. You're among friends,” he said easily, then shifted to encircle her waist with a light and casual grasp. “Come along with me and I'll introduce you around. We'll have you feeling at home in no time.”

That had a lovely sound, almost too lovely. Luke tried, too; Regina had to give him that.

A natural host, he moved from group to group, clasping hands and making jokes with the men, showering endearments, compliments and quick hugs on the ladies. Regina was included with a careless few words that made her presence seem normal and even inevitable. When the queries and glances of speculation seemed to warrant it, he slipped in a quick explanation of her business in town. It was all fairly painless, especially with the help of the wine he snagged from a bar of polished cypress set up on the back gallery and pushed into her hand.

Regina smiled, nodded, and made the usual remarks about the food and the weather. Still, there was no hope that she would ever be a real part of the gathering, and she accepted the depressing certainty after the first few minutes. She was set apart by her accent, her clothes and her attitudes, but most of all by what she was and why she was there. She might be accepted for a few hours, but no longer. Never longer.

She and Luke were standing alone for a brief moment. Glancing down at her, he said, “I noticed you didn't come with Kane. Why is that?”

“We barely know each other. There was no reason for him to bother.”

“No?” Laughter glinted in his dark eyes. “Looks to me like he may have gone and got himself in trouble with you.”

“I don't know that I'd put it that way,” she said carefully. The rising wind sweeping through the open doors made her fingers feel chilled against her cold, condensation-wet wine flute. If she listened closely, she thought she could hear an occasional low rumble in the distance that might be thunder.

“A few days ago, he was like a dog with a favorite bone, and tonight he's keeping his distance. Something must have caused it.”

“Maybe I'm the one in trouble,” she quipped, shielding her gaze as she sipped from her glass.

“Well now, we can't have that,” he said with a quick shake of his head that loosened an errant black curl so it fell forward onto his forehead. In a sudden movement, he swung with her toward where Kane and his lady friend still stood.

“No, wait,” Regina exclaimed, pulling against his hold, but it was too late. Luke was already waving the other pair forward, closing the gap between them.

“You and Kane know each other, of course,” he said easily. “This gorgeous creature with him, Regina, is April Halstead, our resident writer here on the lake. She gives advice to the lovelorn on the side, being a romance author. That is, she advises everybody but me.”

“It's the last thing you need,” April returned, her voice carrying a slight edge in spite of its musical quality, before she greeted Regina.

“You'd be surprised,” he answered laconically.

There was an undercurrent of some kind between
the two, Regina thought, as she watched April put her hand on Luke's arm and draw him aside to ask a low-voiced question. The impression was wiped from her mind when Kane spoke.

“So you decided to come after all.”

“I never said I wouldn't.” She met the dark appraisal in his eyes with valiant effort. She was supposed to come on to this man. Incredible.

“How does it strike you?”

For an instant, it seemed he might have read her mind, then she realized he was talking about the party. “Lovely. It's literally an open house, isn't it, with every door and window thrown wide?”

“A week later, and it would have been too hot without air-conditioning, but it's turned out fine so far,” he replied, watching her over the rim of his glass as he drank.

“I thought I heard thunder a few minutes ago. Do you think it might rain?” It was trite to fall back on the weather for conversation, but she could come up with nothing else.

“A shower maybe, though it shouldn't last long this time of year. One of the many advantages of living in the Deep South.”

“Is that where I am? I've more or less lost my bearings since I flew in.”

“Much deeper and you'd wind up in the Gulf of Mexico.”

His voice was polite, as was hers. They might never have met before, she thought with despair. This wasn't going to work. But what was she supposed to do? He'd suspect something, surely, if she suddenly began
to act as though she was panting to go to bed with him.

She couldn't do this, she really couldn't. Some women, she knew, had only to see a handsome man to immediately begin planning how they would seduce him. They enjoyed taking the initiative, began shucking their clothes at the first possible moment. She wasn't made that way, and couldn't be sure, now, whether she was glad or sorry for it.

Glancing around, she said, “Are you and Luke really related to all these people.”

“Most of them. Not that I claim kinship with the more suspicious ones, like the guy behind you.”

She turned as he spoke, alerted by the humor surfacing in his eyes as he gazed past her shoulder. Nor did she need to be told that the new arrival to their group was another cousin. The resemblance was too plain for doubt, in spite of the sun-bleached lightness of his hair. In addition, he wore a tan and brown uniform with a Western-cut jacket that had a discreet silver star pinned to the pocket. Regina's nerves tightened another notch as her gaze brushed over that symbol of office. Extending her hand, she said, “Sheriff Benedict, I presume.”

“Call me Roan, ma'am, and I'll excuse the terrible company you're keeping,” he said with a swift grin at Kane and Luke. He nodded and smiled at April as he swept off his Stetson, then took Regina's hand. His gaze lingered on her hair an instant. “You'll be the lady who's been visiting with Mr. Lewis, I expect.”

“I suppose you could say that.” She liked his deep and easy drawl, slightly more pronounced than Kane's, and also the steady look in his gray eyes. He would
be a person people could depend on, she thought, which should make him an excellent law officer. However, there was a firm set to his jaw that suggested he would not be a good man to cross. She hoped devoutly that she need never put the idea to the test.

“You have any trouble with that reporter hanging around?” he asked as he released her.