For Her Eyes Only (23 page)

“You think I’m a complication?” She blinked, the sensual haze clearing from her eyes.

He frowned. “I didn’t say that. I said this,” he gestured between them, “this complicates things.”

She pulled back, dragging the sheet to her chest, and he gazed wistfully at her now-covered breasts.

“I thought it improved things,” she muttered, and he couldn’t miss the hurt behind her anger. He moved his hand to her shoulder in an effort to comfort her.

“It does, but sex always complicates matters. You’re my friend, Vic. I respect you.” He felt her stiffen under his touch.
What?
He was being sincere. Open and honest. Was she regretting it already?

“I’m a friend to you?”

Something about the tone of her voice, the tightening of her lips, the distance she was putting between them, tickled a warning for him, but he wasn’t sure why. “A dear, dear friend,” he told her, nodding.
Special
.

She nodded, her jaw clenching. “Right. A dear friend. Who you respect.”

The tickle turned into a persistent itch. “Ye-es.”

“This has to be a record for me. I haven’t even left the bed,” she said under her breath, but he managed to catch it. She lifted her chin, staring across the room. “Let me guess. It’s you, it’s not me, right?”

He thought of his mother, of that last time he saw her, of what he’d done next. Vicky—Vicky was wonderful. He, on the other hand, constantly battled a rising darkness. Did she sense that? Had she finally seen the mess inside his soul? How did she know? “Yeah, actually.”

“You have issues.”

He frowned. He’d been just about to say that, but apparently she was well aware of it. Was she criticizing him, or making an observation? Either way, it hurt. His friend was drifting away from him, and he didn’t know how to stop the chasm yawning between them.

“And you care too much for me, you don’t want to see me get hurt, right? So it’s better if we end this now.”

His frown deepened. Okay, this was getting weird. “You sound like you’re in my head.” Each remark hit its target, drawing emotional blood. It was almost like she was mocking him.

Vicky vaulted out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her and winding it around her body. “It’s no surprise, that’s why. Well, I don’t want to ‘complicate’ things for you.” She stormed toward the bathroom, but pivoted on her foot and stomped back.

“Issues? Everyone has issues. I don’t know what yours are, because you’ve never talked them over with me, so I can’t help. But if you ever want to stop hiding behind them, come and find me.”

She turned again and stumbled over the sheet that now twisted around her legs like a constricting shroud. She struggled for a moment, before finally dropping the sheet with an unintelligible mutter and tramped across the room in all her piqued glory and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

Ryan lay nude and exposed on the bed, gaping.
What the hell?

She’d been kind of magnificent, in a naked, sexy, feisty way, and he still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. She’d been so angry, when he was trying to tell her that he thought she was special. Then she’d ended it. Yet she hadn’t...
What the hell?

He was never going to understand her. He rolled from the bed, confused, ignoring the voice that told him her complexity was one of the things that drew him to her.

* * *

Drew climbed out of the oversnow vehicle and eyed the bus waiting to take the Ultima Resort staff into town. They were in the lower parking lot, the conditions too bad for the bus to get up to the main buildings. He pulled the hood of his jacket closer around his face. It was freezing. Wind roared around them, making a high-pitched sound as it threw shards of ice into his face. Meagan James had counted them onto the oversnow vehicle, crossing off their names as they went.

He looked at the man standing beside him, and recognized him as one of the maintenance staff. “You guys couldn’t fix the problem, huh?” he yelled, trying to keep his tone conversational yet audible above the storm.

The guy shrugged. “Nah, it’s one of those things that no matter how well you’re prepared, you can’t be prepared for everything. A damn friggin’ fluke.”

Drew nodded.
Right
. A fluke that evacuated all staff. It sounded just a little too convenient for his liking. He shifted, slowly edging away from the group as they made their way across the lot to the bus. As they rounded the rear of the vehicle he strolled nonchalantly to the trees edging the parking area, and hunkered down out of sight until the bus left, trundling down the mountain with the rest of the Ultima Resort staff. Once it was out of sight he started to jog back up the mountain.

Ryan and Vicky were stuck up on the mountain with two killers who had just managed to clear the resort without suspicion. This didn’t feel good, not good at all.

Chapter Thirty

Vicky surveyed the lounge. They’d all had a cold breakfast, and Meagan James had apologized profusely about it, citing some sort of plumbing problem. Apparently though, not even a toxic health problem would stop the life coaches from espousing their own wonderfulness.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. She had to sit and talk and lie again. She crossed her legs at the ankles, trying to look relaxed only the gun in the boot made it uncomfortable, so she uncrossed them again.

She could feel her stomach knotting. She had to try and keep all the lies straight, and it was getting harder and harder to do it. This was their last day, their last chance to find the killers, and the pressure was intense. Especially when she just wanted to sit and dwell on what was happening between her and Ryan. Or rather, what was
not
happening.

Neil stood in middle of the room, arms folded. He glanced briefly at his watch, then smiled at the assembled group. “Well, it appears Gavin is running a little late. Why don’t we start without him?”

Everyone took their seats, and she felt Ryan’s warmth along her side. She tried to shift away, but he snugged her close. Damn him. He’d called her the F word. She blinked. She wouldn’t cry.
Friend
. How she hated that word. She only had herself to blame, though, really. He’d given no real indication that he wanted to be more than friends.

Sure, they’d kissed, but they were playing a married couple. She’d read too much into his actions. Her cheeks warmed. It was...humiliating. Embarrassing. Mortifying.

The story of her life.

But last night had been so...explosive. It certainly hadn’t been boring, not on her part. Or chummy. It had been hot. Sexy. Erotic. Just thinking of the things he’d done to her body, and what she’d done to his...warmth bloomed deep inside her core. No. Not chummy.

Yet he’d started the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. She pursed her lips. She’d heard it so many times, she’d known exactly what he was going to say.

Okay, so yes, sex complicated things, but she’d hoped he’d finally see her as more than a friend, damn it. She’d hoped they could have a more meaningful relationship, but it didn’t seem like he was of the same mind. She kept her gaze locked on Neil as he prattled on about something that she simply couldn’t care less about. Ryan shifted in the sofa next to her, and his hand brushed her arm as he leaned back. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t talk to him. Where did you go after making hot, sweaty, eye-crossing love with your best friend who only wanted to remain friends? She folded her arms, trying to dig her elbow into his side, maneuver a little space between them, but he didn’t let go. She didn’t know if their friendship could withstand the shock of this rejection.

“So, let’s look at how things we’ve done in the past affect our life situation today,” Neil suggested. Oh, God, what deceitful little story could she make up about that? He would ask her—with the way her luck was running, he would definitely ask her. And she’d have to sprout some convincing yarn that would cement her cover. What if she couldn’t? What if she screwed this up, too?

Vicky watched as Meagan James sidled into the room and leaned against the door, as though she wanted to hear this, too.

“Why don’t we start with you, Margie? What have you done in the past that has had far-reaching ramifications?”

Margie glanced up, wide-eyed and uncomfortable at being put on the spot. “Oh, uh, I’m not sure I can think of anything.”

Neil arched his eyebrow. “Are you sure? Remember, we’re all in this together.” Vicky tried not to roll her eyes. “What was the first thing that popped into your mind when I asked you?”

Margie shifted, looking with uncertainty to her husband, who nodded in encouragement. She took a deep breath and glanced around the group. “I gave a baby up for adoption.”

Vicky watched her closely. Their backgrounds hadn’t been verified yet. Despite the thought, she couldn’t help believing the tortured expression on Margie’s face.

“I live with the pain of that decision every single day of my life,” Margie said quietly, looking down at the hands she clenched in her lap. Vicky watched as Jeffrey covered her hands with his.

“Anything else?” Neil asked.

Vicky frowned, as did Margie. Wasn’t that enough?

“Uh, I don’t understand. I thought that was pretty significant,” Margie stated, her voice just a little shaky.

Neil gestured widely with his hands. “There is nothing else that you’ve done in your life that’s had a profound effect on you or others?”

Margie shook her head. “Not that I can think of,” she said, glancing in confusion to her husband, who shrugged.

Neil nodded. “Okay, then. What about you, Kurt?”

Kurt shifted, darting his eyes around group, before lifting his chin. “Nothing that I can think of.”

Even Vicky could tell he was lying.

Neil smiled tightly. “Tell me, Kurt,” he stopped and cocked his head. “What are you hiding?”

Vicky’s eyes rounded, and she glanced quickly at Ryan, who gave an infinitesimal shrug of his broad shoulders and a don’t-ask-me look on his face.

Kurt folded his arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Neil stared at him for a moment, then glanced around the group. “We all have something we’re ashamed of in our closet, and it’s not until we admit it, face up to it, that we can really learn and move on from it.”

Vicky immediately started to think up a story for her turn.

Neil leaned forward. “Come on, Kurt. Tell us, what is something that really, really bothers you about your past, and how it affects your life today.”

Kurt stared up at the ceiling for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “Sometimes I...sometimes I have thoughts about men.”

The room was silent for a moment. Neil’s brow puckered.

“What do you mean?”

Vicky stared at Paula, whose expression held confusion and dread.

Kurt blinked, and cast a quick glance at his wife. “I have thoughts about men,” he said to her quietly.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice low.

He hugged himself tighter. “I’m sorry, babe, but sometimes I think of men like...that.”

Paula rose from the sofa. “Like what?”

He looked up at her, his expression pleading. “I think I might be gay.”

Vicky’s eyes rounded.
Oh.
Wow.
She looked at Paula. Her jaw had dropped, but she recovered almost instantly, sounding off in a barrage of Spanish, her hands gesturing wildly.

Vicky quickly looked at Neil, who wore a dumbfounded expression. So he hadn’t seen that one coming, either.

Kurt rose to his feet and tried to embrace his upset wife, tears tracking down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Vicky shot Ryan a dark look at those words, then turned back to the arguing couple. Paula was throwing her hands up and storming around the couch, swearing and flapping her arms, and Vicky wasn’t sure, but she might have been praying, too. Vicky wanted to crawl away somewhere and hide. This was intensely personal, intensely raw and painful, and she hated to witness it.

Kurt tried to stop Paula, tried to hold on to her. She shook him off. “I’m sorry. I love you, babe,” he said, raising his voice. “I can’t help these feelings, though. Do you think I want to feel like this?” he asked, thumping his chest. “Don’t you think I hate myself, every day? I want to be straight. I don’t want to have these feelings. Sometimes I want to kill myself.”

Paula stopped, and gazed at her husband, tears welling up at the obvious pain in her husband’s voice, in his words. She shook her head as she walked up to him. She clasped his hand with one of her own, trailing the other hand down his cheek.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that,” she said, her accent thick. She took a deep shuddering breath. “I have something to tell you, too,” she said, and kissed his hand, uncertainty and trepidation lining her face.

He nodded. “Okay, babe. Tell me.”

She clung to his hands, gripping them tight. Vicky held her breath. This is like a car wreck. You wanted to look away, but were fascinated by the whole bizarre scene.

“I used to be a man,” she told him.

Kurt blinked. “What?”

She shrugged. “I used to be a man. I had an operation, and now I’m a woman.” She cupped his cheek. “I know all about wishing you were different, about hating the way you are. So don’t you ever say you want to die, not to me. We’ll work it out.”

Kurt nestled into her palm. “I love you.” He hugged his wife.

Vicky glanced around the room. Deborah and Hank were gaping at the couple. Elliot had crossed his legs, a frown on his face, and Margie had tears running down her face.

Neil cleared his throat. “Okay. Uh, Peter, what about you?”

Vicky stiffened as she waited for Ryan to respond. Ryan removed his arm from her shoulders, straightening in his seat. He looked at her, and she waited. What was Mr. Pants-on-Fire Liar going to come up with now?

“I tried to kill my father,” he said quietly, his face serious. Vicky’s eyes widened. There was something about him, a solemnity that she hadn’t seen him show before.
This isn’t a lie
.

Neil leaned forward. “What happened?”

Ryan didn’t bother to look at him, but kept his eyes on Vicky. “He beat my mother. For years, he beat her. When he started beating me, that’s when we left. We moved around a lot.” His voice was low. “But he found us. He was so angry that she’d left, he made damn sure she couldn’t do it, ever again. He beat her to death.”

Vicky’s mouth went dry, and she rested her hand on his thigh as tears welled in her eyes.
Oh
,
God.
How horrible
. Ryan blinked, forcing his expression into controlled composure, and took a deep breath. “I was too late. I couldn’t help her. Couldn’t save her. She died in my arms.”

She tightened her hold on his leg, trying to send comfort and reassurance to him through that single touch. It must have been absolute hell.

“I went after my father. The cops had to pull me off him. I nearly killed him. I
wanted
to kill him.” He smiled, shakily, self-deprecatingly. “Those are some of my issues,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Okay,” she whispered back. She couldn’t begin to imagine how that had affected him, the constant relocating, looking over your shoulder, then to have your worst nightmare played out in living Technicolor, and losing the only family member who cared enough to risk her own life to keep you safe. “Okay.”

“All right! I can’t stand this,” Deborah cried, standing up. She faced Hank, twisting her hands together. “I’m pregnant.”

Too much, this was all way too much. Vicky patted Ryan on the knee before turning her attention to Deborah. Hank’s expression went white, then mottled as he stood.

“What?” he shouted.

“I’m pregnant.”

His mouth opened and closed, like a fish. “It’s not mine,” he said finally through gritted teeth.

Deborah faltered. “Of course it’s yours. Why would you say that?”

“Because I can’t father children. I had a vasectomy,” he growled.

Vicky covered her eyes. Okay,
now
it was way too much.

Deborah’s jaw dropped, her face frozen in shock for a full minute, before she screeched at her husband. “You what?”

“Who is he? Who’s the father?” Hank bellowed.

“You knew! All this time I’ve been pumping myself with damned hormones, you knew! Gavin is right, you are a selfish bastard!”

Hank snapped his fingers. “It’s him, isn’t it? All those damn appointments—and I was paying for them! Wait until I get my hands on that SOB.” Hank barreled out of the lounge area, shoving past a surprised Meagan James.

“No, Hank, please!” Deborah ran after him.

Neil shut his eyes briefly before following them.

The rest of the couples sat for a moment, looking at each other with stunned expressions. Vicky glanced at Ryan, thinking of his shocking confession. He’d gone through hell. She couldn’t even imagine that kind of dysfunctional emotional trauma. Yet he’d come out of it as a man of honor, of integrity. He risked his life, over and over again, in the name of all that was good and just.

He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and he finally dropped his hand to look at her. “Now you know,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “Now I know.” It was a start.

A scream echoed down the hall. Ryan bolted up and out of his seat, and Vicky chased after him.