What Lies Within (29 page)

M
ason was well aware Sam Ballat was not averse to fabrication when it served his purposes. But to try and manipulate him with such a bald-faced lie? “Please. I’ve seen you use your inflammatory tactics too often to be influenced by them.”

“Are you implying that I’m fabricating lies to get my way?”

“I know you are. There is no other man in Kyla’s life.”

“I see. Then you’ve been down to the construction site?”

Mason spread his fingers on his desk, letting the cool of the wood transfer itself to his temper. “Of course not. I’d never intrude on one of Kyla’s projects. Not without an invitation.”

“Ah. Which means you haven’t received one? Don’t you find that … intriguing?”

Mason’s irritation perched on his lips—and halted. Kyla always told him he was welcome to come to her sites. He’d been so busy lately that he hadn’t realized it was different this time.

Which, much as he hated to admit it, begged the question: Why? What made this job different from any of the others?

What … or who?

“You might want to check out your facts, Wright.” Smug triumph oozed
through the words. Then Ballat’s tone hardened. “But you definitely want to do what you guaranteed. You said you’d take care of this situation. I depend on you to do what I need. If you can’t take care of this woman, I’ll find someone who can.”

Ballat was a valuable client. One who brought him more work than any other.

But enough was enough.

“What you need is for this project to fail, correct?”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?”

Mason met belligerence with pointed logic. “Then that, Mr. Ballat, has been taken care of. Your focus, sir, is on that fact. Not”—warning seeped into his next words—“on Kyla Justice.”

Silence met his assertion. Mason waited. Ballat was free and easy with threats. Well, this time he was the one who needed to understand. Nobody was going to “take care” of Kyla. Nobody but him.

“I see.”

“I hope you do, sir. Because if anything happens to Kyla Justice, I will hold you accountable.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Wright?”

Warning was evident in that low question, but Mason didn’t flinch. “I am, indeed, sir. You and I both know how close we’ve come to the line of what’s legal and what isn’t. I haven’t crossed that line.” Mason let his implied message—You have—sink in. “As a professional, I’ve kept thorough documentation on all of our business ventures.”

“All?”

Mason smiled. “All.”

“I see.”

Mason was sure he did. He’d have to be an idiot not to, and Sam Ballat was no fool.

“Well, Mr. Wright, I hear your message loud and clear.”

“As long as that message is simply that you don’t need to worry about this project, that’s fine. You and I have been working together a long time, Mr. Ballat, you know you can count on me.”

“I always have. I’ll talk to you later.”

Mason hung up, keeping his hand on the receiver, tapping one finger on
the smooth black plastic. He’d just taken a risk that could either pay off—or ruin him. But that didn’t concern him. Not nearly as much as Ballat’s snide words about another man …

He stood, grabbing his suit coat off the coat tree on the way out his office door.

Time to see exactly what was going on with Kyla Justice.

THIRTY-FOUR   

K
yla Justice was amazing.

Rafe had known that for years, but this? He never would have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

He stood inside what used to be the church sanctuary, surveying the progress Kyla and her workers had made. The burnt-out parsonage was gone, replaced by the framing for a two-story office building connected to the old sanctuary. The sanctuary was getting ever closer to completion as well.

Justice Construction had accomplished more in just under one month than all the other contractors together had done in nearly seven.

“So, what do you think?”

Odd how the sound of her voice seldom surprised him. Then again, it wasn’t odd at all. It made a world of sense. He heard it so often, anointing him in his dreams, resonating in his heart, it had become a part of him. He turned, taking in the welcome warmth of Kyla’s smile. They hadn’t spoken
much the last few weeks. After that last blowup, they seemed to have reached a tacit agreement to avoid one another.

He was glad she’d decided it was time for that agreement to end.

Kyla came to stand beside him, looking up at the new twenty-foot ceiling now sporting shiny new vapor lights. The old flooring and walls had been removed. And today the beautiful stained-glass windows, which were slated to go in the office building, had followed suit. It was an amazing thing, the way the workmen removed the windows. Not one was damaged. They’d been wrapped, crated, and set at the back of the sanctuary, ready to be picked up tomorrow and taken to a secure storage.

Good thing. Those windows were over a hundred years old. They’d cost a fortune to replace.

“So?”

Rafe let his gaze drift from the room to Kyla. “You and your crew have done a great job.”

Pleasure flooded her features. “Thanks.” She surveyed the room in front of them. “They’ve really worked hard. You know something?”

“What’s that?”

Her smile was one part relief, one part triumph. “I think we’re going to make the deadline.” She let out a long sigh. “Good thing too. I really wasn’t ready for what I’d have to decide if we failed.”

Rafe frowned at the low words, spoken almost as though to herself. “What you’d have to decide?”

“Oh.” She turned to him, eyes wide, the proverbial child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “Never mind.”

The sudden red glowing in her cheeks stirred his curiosity even more. “But you said—”

“Did you hear that?” She stared over his shoulder.

He turned, studying the empty room. “Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”

“I don’t know. I thought I heard someone call me.”

Her pleased tone and easy shrug as she turned and started walking toward the exit were a dead give-away. Rafe shook his head. Of course. Distraction. He should have recognized it the minute she cut his question off.

In two long strides he was walking beside her. “So, you were saying?”

“Hmm. No one’s come to pick up the windows yet? I’ll have to give them a call.”

Oh, no you don’t. I’m not giving up. “About what was riding on getting done on time?”

“Hmm? What?” The wide eyes she aimed at him were the picture of confused innocence. Her hand was on the doorknob, pulling it open. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

His mouth opened on a pointed retort when the phone jangled. She grinned and hurried to pick it up.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe. “You could let the machine get it, you know.”

The phone at her ear, she wrinkled her nose at him. “Kyla Justice.”

With a muffled chuckle, Rafe waited for her to finish the call. She walked to the office window, looking outside as she talked. When she ended the call and set the phone in the base, he readied a new rally, but she held it off by speaking first.

“They’re out there again.”

He moved to stand beside her, following her now unsettled gaze. His own mouth tensed when he spotted the young men congregating across the street.

The Blood Brotherhood. Five or six of them. They weren’t making any effort to hide the fact that they were watching the church.

Apparently Rafe wasn’t the only one to notice the progress Kyla and her men were making.

Without thinking, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kyla.”

She turned to him, so close he could breathe in the fragrance of her hair. Those beautiful eyes looked up at him; worry weighted the edges of her brow. “How can I not? You know what they’re capable of. If it’s not sabotage, it’s vandalism. Or threatening phone calls in the middle of the night.”

“What?”

“They’ve been calling me. Almost every night now.” Every night? And he was just hearing about it now? “Why didn’t you say something?”

“What could you have done, Rafael? Stay at my house every night?
Hover over the phone until they called? And then what? There’s no way to prove who is making those calls. I finally just turned off the ringer.”

Anger burned deep in his gut. “You shouldn’t have to deal with something like that.”

“I’m not nearly as worried about me as my men. I don’t know if they can take another catastroph—”

His fingers against her lips stopped the rush of words. Whatever assurances he’d been about to give her fled his suddenly sluggish brain. The feel of her lips against his skin sent heat raging through him. He looked deep into those wide eyes of hers and saw the same blaze burning there.

His free hand moved up her arm, fingers trailing along the line of her neck, burying themselves in her silken hair. A multitude of rapid-fire sensations assaulted him—the feel of her, the sweet fragrance of her, the fact that she wasn’t moving away—and all thought, all reason dissipated like a hapless fog in the Iraqi sun.

Her lips parted, and, eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head.

With a gasp, Kyla brought her hands to his chest, pushing away. “No!”

The word was ragged, a bare whisper, but it was enough. Because it contained something that held him fast.

Fear.

He had the strong sense, though, that the fear wasn’t of him, but of herself. Regardless of the cause, he stepped back, hands falling to his sides.

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” She lay a trembling hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I never should have … I mean, it was wrong of me …”

His hand settled over hers. “It’s okay.” He patted the back of her hand, making the action as patronly as he could. “We’re both tired, we just got a little carried away, that’s all.”

He’d hoped his semiglib tone would put her at ease, but couldn’t tell if it was successful. Probably better to leave and give her some time to work through whatever was troubling her.

He only hoped the whatever wasn’t him.

“I’d better be going.”

She swallowed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Was that hope hiding in those words? “Bright and early.”

He waved good-bye, then turned and made his way back into the sanctuary. His footsteps echoed in the large room, the sound haunting. Lonely. He stepped up his pace. But no matter how fast he walked, he couldn’t escape the realization gnawing at him.

Kyla Justice was drawn to him.

And that fact terrified her.

How did she let that happen?

Kyla leaned against the desk, watching Rafael’s retreating back. She should have stayed the course. Continued forcing herself to head the other direction whenever she saw him. But she hadn’t realized how much she missed being with Rafael, just talking. The fighting, now that she could do without. Still, when she checked to make certain she’d locked the door into the sanctuary today and saw him standing there, that thoughtful look on his face …

She just couldn’t resist. She’d wanted to be with him. Talk with him. See his smile, the light in his eyes when he looked at her.

Wanted it more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time.

So, taking a risk that they could be in the same room together without irritating one another, she pulled the door open and went to stand beside him.

Well, the risk paid off. At least where irritating one another was concerned. But it had opened a whole new Pandora’s box.

She picked up a pencil, drawing circles on a piece of paper as she recalled their lighthearted banter. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud when saying how relieved she was about meeting the deadline. Then, when Rafael asked her about it, well—mortified didn’t begin to cover it. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him what she’d agreed to.

Because the more she thought about it, the more she realized how foolhardy she’d been to make such an agreement. If she married Mason—

If
? Not
when?

She clenched her teeth against the dratted questioning. If she married
him, and if she quit JuCo, she’d do so for the right reasons. Because she loved Mason and wanted to concentrate on being a wife and mother. Not because she’d failed.

What about what happened in here tonight—?

Kyla pushed away from the desk. Nothing. Nothing happened.

Okay, then. What almost happened. And what about how relieved you are that you’ll meet the deadline? Doesn’t that tell you anything?

Of course it told her something. That she was a professional who wanted to do what the client needed.

Uh-huh
.

She grabbed the paper she’d been doodling on and thunked it into the in-basket. This was silly. Her negative feelings about missing the deadline didn’t have anything to do with marrying Mason. Of course not.