Shadow Dance (22 page)

J
ORDAN WAS STANDING IN THE SHOWER RINSING OFF THE HEAT
of the day and lathering her hair with apricot-scented soap when the realization hit. She didn’t want to go home. She immediately pushed the ridiculous thought aside. Of course she wanted to go home.

She wanted her organized life back, didn’t she? When she’d sold her company, she had netted a staggering profit, but now she needed to decide what to do with it. She had toyed with the idea of investing some of the money in developing a new computer processor, one that would be so fast it could handle even the most complicated multimedia software several times over. She had even visualized the design and the prototype. But there was only one problem with her grand scheme to shake up the Silicon Valley giants again. She didn’t want to. Let someone else come up with a design that would make the world spin faster and faster.

Not wanting to get into the game again wasn’t the only startling revelation. She no longer was in a hurry to run out and buy another laptop and cell phone. In the past they had been her appendages, but she didn’t feel laptop dependent anymore, and she was finding it remarkably pleasant not to be answering her cell phone every five minutes. There were definite perks to being unavailable.

“I’m starting to scare myself,” she whispered.

What was happening to her? It was as though she were morphing into a completely different person. Maybe sitting in 120-degree heat waiting for Noah to examine the fire wreckage had done something to her brain. Maybe the heat melted it. Or maybe all the showers she’d been taking since she’d arrived in Serenity had washed away her brain cells.

She was dehydrated from exposure to the sun. That’s what it was.

She put on her T-shirt and boxer shorts and brushed her teeth. With her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, she wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at herself. Blotchy skin and freckles. What a prize she was, especially wearing her unisex pajamas.

Jordan put the toothbrush down, reached for a jar of Kate’s special body lotion, and opened the door. She’d never worried about how she looked, but now everything was upside down.

Jordan knew what the real problem was. Until this moment, she had refused to admit it. Noah. Oh, yes, he was the problem. He had changed everything, and she didn’t know what she could do about it.

Worrying wouldn’t improve her situation. A smart woman would run as fast as she could in the opposite direction, but she guessed she wasn’t smart because, at the moment, all she could think about was going to bed with him again.

She needed a distraction to take her mind off sex. She decided she would curl up in bed with the professor’s research papers and read another grisly tale about bloodshed, decapitation, mutilation, and superstition. That ought to do the trick and take her mind off Noah.

Where were her glasses? She thought she’d left them by her contact lens case in the bathroom, but they weren’t there. She crossed the bedroom to the desk and stubbed her toe on the leg of a chair. Groaning, she hopped on one foot while she dug through her satchel.

“Noah,” she asked, “have you seen—”

“On the table,” he called through the open door between their rooms.

How did he know what she wanted? Was he a mind reader? Her glasses were right where he’d told her they were. “How did you know—”

“You’re squinting,” he answered before she could finish her sentence. “And you just ran into a chair.”

“I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He laughed. “You couldn’t
see
where you were going.”

Jordan noticed water spots on her lenses and went back into the bathroom. She thought she heard someone knocking on her door and called out, “Noah, could you get that?”

A few seconds later she heard a woman’s voice coming from Noah’s room. The knocking had been at his door, not hers. Curious, she hurriedly cleaned her glasses, slipped them on, and went into the bedroom. Oh, great. Noah was getting personalized turn-down service, and Amelia Ann was doing the honors. Noah leaned against the door frame watching her, but when he heard Jordan, he glanced over his shoulder and winked at her.

He was getting a kick out of the preferential treatment. Jordan wasn’t. She couldn’t stop staring at Amelia Ann through the doorway. The woman was dressed like a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar. She had on short-shorts; red, open-toed, stiletto heels; and a low-cut blouse she’d apparently forgotten to button. She was definitely advertising. The way she bent over the bed when she smoothed the sheets was comical, but Jordan wasn’t laughing. Amelia Ann’s behavior was disgraceful.

Muttering to herself, Jordan spun around and pulled off her own bedspread. She put it in the corner, then dumped a stack of papers in the middle of the bed, grabbed a bottle of water, and sat down to read.

The room phone rang. It was her sister, Sidney, calling. “You’ll never guess where I am.”

“I don’t want to guess. Tell me,” Jordan said.

“You don’t have caller ID?”

“You called my motel room, Sidney. You should know I don’t have caller ID.”

“I’m in Los Angeles, and I’m surrounded by boxes. Since I can’t check into my dorm for another week and a half, I’m stuck in a hotel. Actually, it’s a very nice hotel,” she admitted. “The bellman carried up all my stuff.”

“I thought Mother was going out there with you next week. Why are you there so early?”

“Everything suddenly changed,” she said. “I spent the other night with my friend Christy, and when I got home the next morning, Mom had my flight all set up. It was like she couldn’t wait another minute to get rid of me. I think I was driving her crazy worrying out loud about Dad.”

“So you’re on your own now.”

“And loving it,” she said. “I’m going overboard with room service, but since I can’t get into my dorm, what else can I do? I hope Dad doesn’t have a fit when he gets the bill on his credit card.”

“How’s Dad doing?”

“Okay, I guess. You know Dad. Death threats don’t seem to faze him. Mother’s another story though. She’s a wreck, but trying not to let it show. Everyone is so stressed out over this trial.”

“Any updates on when it will be over?” Jordan asked.

“No,” Sidney answered. “Dad’s bodyguards are becoming permanent fixtures on Nathan’s Bay. Everywhere I looked, there they were: constant reminders that someone wants our father dead.”

“The threats will stop as soon as there’s a verdict.”

“How can you know that for certain? That’s what everyone keeps saying, but come on, Jordan, this is a racketeering case. It’s…major.”

Jordan heard the anxiety in Sidney’s voice. “I know.”

“And if that horrible man is convicted, won’t his family and his business associates still come after Dad? And if he’s not convicted, won’t the other side—?”

Jordan cut her off. “You’ll drive yourself nuts thinking about all of this. You have to hope for the best.”

“Easier said than done,” she replied. “I am glad I came out here early. I was making it worse on Mom. Now she’s got Laurant to worry about…and Nick’s freaking out…”

“Wait a minute. What did you say? What’s wrong with Nick and Laurant?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Nick. His wife is the worry. I thought you knew…”

“Knew what?” she asked impatiently.

“Laurant started having labor pains, really bad labor pains, and the doctor put her in the hospital. She can’t have the baby yet. She’s only six months along.”

“When did this happen?”

“Nick took her to the hospital yesterday. I was already on my way to L. A.”

Had Jordan talked to her brother since then? She couldn’t remember.

“It’s a good thing Nick came back home early and Noah stayed with you, isn’t it? It would be awful if he was that far away when Laurant started having problems.”

“Poor Laurant. What’s the doctor saying?”

“I don’t know,” Sidney answered. “Mom told me she’s hooked up to an IV. They’ve slowed down the contractions, but they haven’t stopped them completely. Listen, when will you get home? Mom sure could use your support now. You’re always so cool and calm about everything. Nothing rattles you.”

Not anymore, Jordan thought. Thanks to Noah, everything rattled her.

From the corner of her eye, Jordan saw Noah walking toward her, and she promptly lost her train of thought. He wore jeans and a clean T-shirt. He put his gun and holster on the nightstand and stretched out next to her on the bed.

“Jordan? Didn’t you hear me? I asked when you were leaving.”

“What…uh…I…” Oh sure, she never got rattled. “Tomorrow,” she stammered. Noah had reached up and was pulling her down next to him. “Early. We’re leaving early. We have a long drive to the Austin airport.” She pushed Noah’s hand away and turned around. Frowning at him, she wagged her finger in his face and whispered, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Sidney asked.

“Nothing. I should go.”

“Wait. Do you think I should fly back home?” asked Sidney. “I could maybe help out—”

“No, no, you should stay where you are. There’s nothing you could do back home. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”

“Don’t hang up. I didn’t ask you how you’re doing.”

Noah was tickling her neck, causing shivers. “Fine. I’m doing fine,” she blurted.

“Did they find the degenerate who was stuffing those bodies in your car?”

“Yes, they did. Talk to you tomorrow. ’Bye now. Keep safe.”

She hung up before Sidney could stop her. Then she turned to confront Noah.

“Trying to distract…” That was as far as she got before she again lost her train of thought. Noah was pulling off his T-shirt. He had an amazing body. His upper arms were so muscular, and his abs…

She mentally shook herself out of her stupor. “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.”

She grabbed his hands when he tried to take his jeans off. “For the love of…Unless you plan to get under the covers, I suggest you keep your pants on.”

“Are you embarrassed?” He seemed puzzled by the possibility. “Sugar, you’ve seen and touched every—”

“I remember very clearly what I did,” she interrupted. She suddenly laughed. “You don’t have any inhibitions, do you? I’ll bet you could walk down Newbury Street in Boston stark naked and not be fazed.”

He grinned. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether it’s summer or winter.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s presumptuous to think you can waltz in here and sleep with me.”

He adjusted the pillows behind his head. “I don’t waltz anywhere, and I don’t plan to sleep, at least not for a very long while. So, do you want me to leave?”

That question was a no-brainer. “No.”

She leaned over him, planted her hands on his warm chest, and kissed him. Then she pinched his shoulder and sat up.

“I know you’ve talked to Nick,” she said accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

He looked surprised. “Sidney told you? I didn’t think she knew. Your mother got her out of Boston early so she wouldn’t find out.”

“Nick should have called me.”

“Nick didn’t want you to worry, and he knew that you would hear about it when you got back to Boston.”

She sat back on her heels. “Find out what?”

He frowned. “Hold on. What exactly did Sidney tell you?”

“No. I want to hear your version.”

“Someone broke into your parents’ house and left a note for your father in his library. It was stuck to a wall with a knife.”

“When did he find it?”

Noah hated to tell her. “He didn’t. Your mother did.” He sighed and added, “Whoever it was got in sometime during the night. She found it the next morning before your father came down.”

Jordan pictured some maniac with a knife creeping through the house and starting up the stairs. She shivered. “They were asleep? Where were the bodyguards?”

“Good question,” he said. “There were two of them. One outside and one in. Neither one heard or saw a thing.”

She felt sick to her stomach. “He could have gone into their bedroom. And Sidney…”

“She wasn’t there,” Noah said. “She was at a friend’s house.”

Jordan nodded. “They can get to my father anytime they want, can’t they?”

“No. Your brothers are in this now and have beefed up security. No one’s going to get that close again.”

She didn’t believe him. “What did the note say?”

“I’m not sure I remember…”

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“Jordan, it was just a scare tactic.”

“I want to know what that note said, Noah. Tell me.”

“Okay…,” he answered reluctantly. “The note said, ‘We’re watching.’”

J
ORDAN
’
S ANXIETY ABOUT HER FAMILY WOULDN
’
T EASE UP
. She kept thinking about her mother and father asleep in their bed while a cold-blooded killer roamed their house. What made the situation even more chilling was the fact that there were two professional bodyguards on duty, and the intruder had been able to get past them.

Holding her in his arms, Noah listened as she played out every possible scenario: what could have happened, what didn’t happen, and what might possibly happen in the future. He’d heard it all before from Nick, who had gone into a rage when he’d found out about the break-in.

“You knew about Laurant too, didn’t you?” Jordan asked. Noah didn’t answer fast enough to suit her. “Didn’t you?”

“Ouch! Stop pinching me. And yes, I knew about Laurant.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

He grabbed her hand before she could pinch him again. “Nick didn’t want me to.”

“Let me guess. He didn’t want me to worry.”

“That’s right.”

She jerked her hand back, rolled away from him, and sat up. “My father and Laurant…what other secrets are out there?”

“None that I know about,” he said. “And it’s not going to do you any good to get all worked up about it.”

His calm attitude didn’t sit well with her. “Well, I am already worked up about it.”

“Don’t be so hard on your brother. Nick was only trying to protect you.”

“Don’t defend him.”

“I’m only saying that Nick thought you had plenty to worry about. He was planning to fill you in on everything when you got back to Boston. And Laurant’s doing okay.”

“She’s in the hospital. That isn’t ‘doing okay.’”

“She’s getting the care she needs.”

Jordan shook her head. “If you were my brother and I kept something like this from you, how would you feel?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Sugar, if I were your brother, we’d have a much bigger problem to worry about.”

To make his point, his hand slipped under her T-shirt and tugged on the waistband of her shorts.

“Okay, that was a bad example.” She gathered up the papers. “I just hate secrets,” she muttered.

“Is that so? You’re pretty damned good at keeping secrets yourself.”

He sounded angry. Surprised by his sudden mood swing, she asked, “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t keep secrets.”

“Want to tell me about that little scar on the side of your right breast?”

Pretending that she didn’t know what he was talking about probably wouldn’t work. Knowing Noah, he’d pull off her T-shirt and point to it.

“What about it?”

“I seem to remember hearing about your surgery.”

“That was…a while ago,” she said, trying to think of a way to get out of the corner she’d trapped herself in. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Here’s my question,” he said. “Didn’t you find a lump in your breast—”

“It was just a little bump.”

Ignoring her interruption, he continued, “And didn’t you check yourself into the hospital and have the surgery without telling anyone in your family?”

She took a breath. “Yes, but it was a procedure…a biopsy…”

“Doesn’t matter. You didn’t want anyone to worry, did you? What if something had gone wrong? What if the procedure had turned into major surgery?”

“Kate drove me to the hospital. She would have called everyone.”

“And you think that’s okay?”

“No,” Jordan admitted. “It was wrong. But I was scared. And telling everyone made it more real.”

Strangely enough, he understood. He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll tell you what. You ever pull a stunt like that on me, and there’ll be hell to pay.” Just thinking about the possibility of her keeping something that serious from him made him angry.

“No more secrets,” she promised.

“Damn right.”

She tried to get up.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was going to read, but I’m not in the mood to think about old feuds.”

He pulled her back. “Read something to me. Maybe a battle,” he suggested. “That will relax you.”

“Only a man could think that hearing about a bloody battle would be relaxing.”

She decided to humor him. She scooted closer, leaned against his chest, and dropped the stack of papers in her lap.

He looked over her shoulder. “How far back have you gotten?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been randomly pulling out a story or two from every other century. When I get home I’ll make myself read all of it.”

“What do you mean, make yourself? If you don’t think any of it is accurate…”

“Okay, I
want
to read all of it. And then I’m going to do my own research. I want to find the truth.” She added, “I’m sure there are
threads
of truth in some of the stories. For the most part, they’ve been handed down from father to son.” She gave him the stack. “You choose one.”

She watched him flip through the pages. “Wait,” she said as she snatched one of the papers. “I just saw…There it is again.”

She pulled out the page and held it up. “See? In the margin. The professor wrote the date 1284 again. I’ve seen it on two other pages in the margins. And what’s that? A crown? A castle? 1284 has to be when he thought the feud started. Don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” he allowed. “The numbers are thick, like he was going over them again and again so he wouldn’t forget.”

“Oh, no, he wouldn’t need to write the date more than once. If what he told me about his memory was true, he didn’t need to write anything down. He’d remember. I think he must have been absentmindedly scribbling while he thought about something else.”

“Hold on. What did he tell you about his memory?”

“He was boasting,” she said. “He said he had an extraordinary memory. He never forgot a face or a name no matter how much time had passed. He recorded these tales to organize them for other people to read someday, but he had committed every detail to memory. He claimed he was a voracious reader. What newspapers he couldn’t get his hands on, he read on the Internet.”

Noah remembered all the newspapers littering the professor’s living room floor. “Look through the rest of the pages,” he suggested. “See if he did any sketches or wrote any other dates.”

She didn’t find any in her stack, but he found a couple in the bottom half of his.

“What does that look like to you?” He pointed to something sketched in the margin at the top of the page.

“Maybe a dog or a cat…with that long mane, a lion. I’ll bet it’s a lion.”

The last drawing he found was easier to figure out. Another crown. A very poor drawing of a lopsided crown.

“You know what I think?” he said. “Professor MacKenna was crazy.”

“I’ll admit he was strange, and he was obsessed with his work.”

“I think he made it all up.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. Maybe
I’m
crazy, but I think there really is a hidden treasure.”

Noah continued to flip through the pages. “Some of these aren’t dated.”

“It can be a guessing game. Maybe the name of a king is mentioned…or a new weapon, like a crossbow. That would give us an approximate time period, but the rest are just guesses.”

“Read this one.” He handed her the papers and leaned back.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he pulled her closer and put his arm around her.

She began reading in a soft clear voice.

Our beloved king is dead, and in this time of our terrible grieving, the clans have been embroiled in battle after battle to gain power and control over the others. We have a pretender who demands to be king and struggles to rule, and there is now constant political turmoil.

Greed has taken root in the hearts of our leaders. We do not know how this will end, and we fear for our children. There is no unbloodied ground to walk upon, no cave in which to find sanctuary for our old and our young. The road is desolate. We have witnessed murder and infidelity. And now betrayal.

The MacDonalds are warring with the MacDougals, and the western coast is their battleground. In the south the Campbells fight the Fergusons, and the MacKeyes and the Sinclairs spill their blood in the east. There is no refuge.

But it is the treachery in the north that we now most fear. The MacKennas have new allies from the other end of the world to help them destroy their enemy, the Buchanans.

The MacKenna laird shows no interest in stealing the Buchanans’ land and forcing the warriors under his rule, though we know such a thing could never be accomplished. Nae, perhaps in the past, that was the MacKenna’s intent, but no longer. He wants to destroy all of them, every man, every woman, every child. His anger is fierce.

Though we must never openly speak of this, even in whispers, we believe the MacKenna laird has made an evil pact with the King of England. The king sent his emissary, a young prince who came to the court from a distant domain that is now ruled by the king. A witness observed this secret meeting, one of our own, and we believe his words to be true, for he is a man of God.

The king wants a foothold in the north, and his eyes are on the Buchanan land for its position in the highlands. Once the land is conquered, his soldiers will advance toward the south and the east. He will conquer Scotland, one clan at a time, and when they are under his rule, he will gather a massive force and go north into the land of the giants.

The prince has told the laird that the king has heard of the animosity between the Buchanans and the MacKennas, and even though he believes destroying the Buchanans with his help should be reward enough, he will sweeten his pact by giving the laird a title and a silver treasure. The treasure alone would elevate the laird above all other clans, for there is a mystical power to the treasure. Aye, with this treasure, the laird would become invincible. He would have the power he longed for, and he would have his revenge against the Buchanans.

Greed overtook the laird, and he could not say no to the devil’s bargain. He called up his allies, but he did not tell them about his meeting with the emissary or the pact he had struck. He concocted a story of infidelity and murder, and demanded they follow him into war.

We too fear the Buchanans’ wrath, but we cannot allow this slaughter, and we have determined that one of us will go to their laird and tell him of this plot. We do not believe the King of England should have power in our land. The MacKenna laird may wish to sell his soul, but he will not.

With great trepidation, our courageous friend Harold went alone to speak to the Buchanan laird. When he did not return, we believed the Buchanans had killed him. But Harold was not harmed. He returned to us, and his body was sound, but terror had overtaken his mind, for he declared to us that he had seen him. Harold had seen the ghost. He had seen the lion in the mist.

Noah interrupted Jordan. “He saw what?”

“Harold had seen the ghost. He had seen the lion in the mist,” Jordan repeated.

Noah smiled. “A lion in Scotland?”

“Maybe it’s a figurative lion,” she suggested. “After all, there was Richard the Lionhearted.”

“Keep reading,” he coaxed.

“Has the Buchanan laird gathered his allies?” we asked.

“Nae,” came his reply. “He sent messengers to the north to call forth one warrior. That is all.”

“Then they will all die.”

“Yes, they will die” another said. “The English king is so sure of victory he has sent a legion of soldiers

Noah interrupted again. “A legion? Come on. Do you know how many that would be?”

“Noah, I’ve already read about a ghost and a lion in the mist. What’s the big deal about a legion?”

He laughed. “You’re right.”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

“Go on,” he said. “I promise not to interrupt again.”

“Where was I? Oh, yes, the legion.” She found her place and resumed reading.

“The English king is so sure of victory he has sent a legion of soldiers with the treasure to Laird MacKenna. He has also ordered these soldiers to join the MacKennas in their battle against the Buchanans. The MacKenna laird has only just been given this news. He cannot stop the advance, and he knows that his allies will turn against him when they discover he has a pact with the king. They will not fight by the side of an English soldier.”

Jordan dropped the paper. “He did it on purpose.”

“Who did what?” Noah asked.

“The king. He sent soldiers knowing the MacKenna allies would turn against the laird. He also knew they would find out about the pact. The clans would know that MacKenna joined forces with the king. For silver. Talk about betrayal.”

“And they all end up killing each other.”

“Yes,” Jordan said. “Which is exactly what the king wanted. How could the MacKenna laird believe the King of England would keep his word?”

“Greed. He was blinded by greed. Did he get the treasure?” he asked.

She picked up the paper again. “The victory belonged to the Buchanans.”

“I was rooting for them,” Noah drawled. “They were the underdogs. Besides, I’m in bed with a Buchanan. I should be loyal.”