My One And Only (17 page)

"Yes, he would have," Deirdre said without hesitation. "I'm relatively certain Connie had something to do with it, but no one knows for sure. Harrison and Father had a ripping argument, and the next thing we knew, Lina and Ethan were living in the downtown apartment."

"Harrison never lived with them?"

"No. That's when things turned strange. Even by Montgomery standards." Deirdre's tone was
dry. "Lina would come to the house sometimes for
family events. I think she enjoyed making my father angry. She resented the hell out of him, and from what I could tell, she didn't like Harrison much either."

"Would you have if you'd been in her shoes?"

Deirdre shrugged. "Hard to say. I suppose it depends on what the woman's goals were. Either way, she didn't live long after that."

"And after her death, Ethan lived with Harrison."

"Well, not actually
with
him. Ethan stayed at the apartment with a nanny. He rarely saw Harrison. Father died shortly after. I doubt Ethan remembers much about him."

That, at least, was a blessing, Abby thought. The more she heard of the story, the more confusing and disconcerting it became. How could the Harrison Montgomery who'd gone to such great lengths to provide her and her sister with desperately needed stability be the same man who'd cast aside his own child? Something didn't fit. "Things never got any better, did they?" she asked.

"No. The gulf grew steadily wider between Ethan and Harrison, and by the time Ethan reached adolescence"—Deirdre shook her head— "well, it was already beyond redemption. Harrison had no idea how to relate to him. Ethan was very angry."

"And hurting," Abby pointed out. "He must have taken his mother's death very hard."

"I imagine he did." Deirdre noticed Abby's frown. "Try to understand. I know you were close to your parents, but things weren't like that for any of us. I was closer to my nannies than I ever was to my father."

"He was lonely, Deirdre. You have to understand that."

"Of course I do. And thank God for Letty. She's the only one of us with a maternal bone in her body."

"Ethan is still quite close to her."

"She mothered him as best she could, but the older Ethan got, the more bitter the feud between him and Harrison became. It wasn't long before it became obvious to all of us that to side with Ethan was to side against Harrison."

Abby knew that feeling all too well. "So he was left alone." Again, she added silently.

"As long as Harrison controlled the fortune—" Deirdre held out her hands in a helpless gesture. "Let's just say that no one had the nerve to cross him."

Abby thought that over. It seemed irrepressibly sad, somehow, that Harrison's vast and sprawling family was held together by fear and avarice, while she would have given anything for just one more day with her parents. It took her less than a
heartbeat to recognize why she found Ethan so irresistible. That hollow look she sometimes saw in his eyes mirrored the one she'd once seen in her own. He was still the hurting, abandoned child who'd lost his mother and experienced no love from his father, and he was desperately yearning for someone to understand him. She could no more turn away from that than she could tear her own heart out.

The fate that had flung her into his path was the same fate that was going to break her heart, she was almost certain. Because now that she knew most of Ethan's story, she was virtually powerless to turn him away. He might hurt her in the long run, but she couldn't push him away until she'd helped him fill that hollow place.

If she had a brain in her head, she thought wryly, she should feel some angst because she was about to topple headlong into love with a man she barely knew, a man who gave her every reason to believe he wasn't the least interested in anything other than a passing affair. Since she'd waited long enough to fall this hard for a man, she should at least have had the sense to pick one more wisely.

But strangely, the realization brought a certain kind of freedom. Seeing her inevitable tumble into heartache made it easier to accept.

He really was making her crazy, Abby thought as she reached for the folder on her desk. The next
time she discussed Harrison or Ethan, or the history of their relationship, she wanted the dialogue to be with them. Her fierce sense of loyalty demanded it. She
flipped open the folder. "What
ever's going to happen," she told Deirdre, neatly dismissing the topic, "is between Harrison and Ethan now."

"And you're stuck right in the middle."

Abby handed her a report from the folder. "Only if I want to be." She smiled slightly. "And believe it or not, I have other things to do today than to keep discussing the two of them. This event is three weeks away."

Deirdre accepted the report. "I've been thinking through the options of themes," she said.

Abby stifled a groan. It was going to be a very long day indeed.

ten

"
H
ow long have you known her?" Ethan asked General John Standen that afternoon at the Chicago Metropolitan Veterans Center.

The general stroked his chin. "Well, let's see. I think I first met Abby a couple of years after her parents died." He looked at the playing cards in his hand and tossed two onto the table. "Give me two."

Ethan handed him the cards. The man next to the general nodded. "Yeah, that's right. Abby started coming in here real regular right after they were murdered."

"Anybody know her father?" Ethan probed, and handed the man the three cards he'd requested. Ethan had talked to his investigator that morning. Charlie had run into more roadblocks as
he tried to get to the bottom of Abby's past. Frustrated, Ethan had spent a grueling morning in the hotel pool, swimming three miles of laps to clear his head and think through the puzzling information. Finally, when his body was demanding a break from the pace of his workout, he'd remembered Charlie's mention that Abby's father had fought in the Vietnam War.

He hadn't been able to shake that thought, nor the conviction that answers lay somewhere in that piece of information. So he'd come to the Veterans Center, where he knew Abby and Rachel were both heavily invested with the residents. If anyone would have answers, it would be these men who treated her like one of their own.

The general frowned. "Seems like everyone knew of him, but it's been a while." He gave Ethan a dry look. "Once we get here, we don't always last so much longer."

The other two men at the table nodded their agreement. "I've been here for almost ten years," one of them said as he tossed two pennies into the kitty. "And that's longer than most."

Ethan tapped his own cards in frustration. Though he had no reason to believe Abby was lying to him, he was sure something was missing. Instinct told him she had carefully avoided telling him the entire truth of her relationship with Harrison. He tried to gauge whether or not his suspicion about Harrison's motives for being so
generous to her and to Rachel was influencing his judgment, but he didn't think so. He'd built a career out of following hunches. And this one told him that Harrison at least had knowledge of the mysterious circumstances surrounding her parents' death.

"I knew him," said a voice from behind Ethan's shoulder.

Ethan glanced around to see Carter Jameson sitting to his left. He'd wheeled his chair over and was regarding Ethan with a piercing gaze. "I knew Abby's father."

The general disagreed. "You couldn't have, Carter. You haven't been here that long."

One of the other men nodded. "He died over ten years ago."

Carter Jameson shook his head. "Before. I knew him before."

Ethan studied him for a second, then tossed his cards onto the table. "I'll have to fold, gentlemen. The colonel and I have something to discuss." He rose.

"Wheel me outside," the colonel suggested, "and I'll tell you what I know."

I
t was after 2:00
a
.
m
.
when his cell phone rang. Ethan was lying in the bed of his Chicago hotel room, mentally replaying his conversation with Carter Jameson. He'd seen Abby and Rachel for dinner that night, and though the tone of the conversation had been light, he'd sensed an underlying tension in Abby. When he'd questioned her, she'd given him a vague explanation of her meeting with Harrison that afternoon. Ethan suspected that Harrison had thrown some of the same warnings at her that he'd hurled at Ethan on Saturday. The day had obviously taken a toll on her.

When he'd kissed her good night, she'd practically clung to him, and he'd known something was seriously troubling her. Abby was definitely not a
cl
inger. Whatever was bothering her had her uncharacteristically on edge. Against his better judgment, he hadn't pressed her for information.

He had, however, been unable to sleep. So the jarring ring of his cellular phone
made him in
stantly alert. He sat up and snatched it from the bedside table. Abby's number flashed on the ID screen. Frowning, he punched the Receive button. "What's wrong?"

"Someone was here." Her voice sounded breathless.

Ethan gripped the phone. "What?"

"Someone tried to get into the house. He broke the window."

He was already out of bed and reaching for his pants. "Did you call the police?"

"Yes." She sounded terrified.

He managed to pull his pants on and step into his shoes. "Is Rachel with you?"

"Yes."

"Abby, are you all right? Is Rachel all right?"

"If I hadn't—he was coming through the window."

"Are you all right?" he asked again.

"I hit him in the face—he was wearing a mask."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No." He heard her struggle for breath. "No. I vised an umbrella and I hit him. I think he ran off."

Ethan hoped the bastard was lying under her window with a broken nose. He dropped his keys into his pocket. "Abby, listen to me."

"He would have come in."

"I know, honey." He had to struggle to keep his voice calm. The last thing she needed right now was to sense how angry he was at the thought of someone trying to hurt her. "Did you reset the alarm?"

"Yes."

"Check it now while I'm on the phone."

He heard her move across the room and punch the buttons. "It's armed."

"Okay. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Please hurry," she said. "God, please hurry."

Ethan jammed the cell phone into his pocket and grabbed his shirt on his way out the door. The terror in her voice had his adrenaline flowing fast and furious. She wasn't the type to scare easily or cower quickly, but she'd sounded damned near hysterical on the phone.

Considering the violence of her parents' death,
he could only imagine what she must have felt when she realized someone was breaking into her home. He'd noticed that Abby was extremely security-conscious the first time he'd set foot in her house. Despite
the secluded residential neigh
borhood, there were double locks on all her doors and windows and a state-of-the-art security system on the house itself.

Any professional thief would have seen the signs and wiring from a cursory glance at the perimeter and wouldn't have attempted the break-in. So this was either some neighborhood kid playing a badly executed prank, or the break-in had been designed to terrify her. Ethan's money was on the latter. And from the sound of her phone call, it had been extremely effective.

If someone was trying to scare her, there was a reason for it. He'd stake his life that the reason lay somewhere beneath the sketchy evidence he'd obtained that afternoon from Carter Jameson. Harrison had told him on Saturday that he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Ethan was starting to believe it.

He bit off a curse as he turned into Abby's driveway. Every light in the house was on, and he could see the broken shards of glass covering the porch. "Bastard," he muttered.

He hurried up the front steps and was reaching for the bell when Abby tore open the door and flew into his arms. He had a brief glimpse of the dark
blue satin nightgown and robe she wore before she buried herself against him. "Thank God," she said, clinging to him. "Thank God you're here."

Ethan wrapped his arms tightly around her. The anxiety he'd felt since that afternoon was slowly beginning to ease. He could solve whatever problems arose, and he was confident he could protect her, even from Harrison. The fact that she'd turned to him and not to his father when she'd needed help convinced him of it. Abby needed him. He could work with that. For a while, he'd worried that he'd pushed her too hard—that she'd seen the passion in him and had started to draw away. But she needed him. And for the moment, that was all that mattered.

She broke the embrace before he was ready, but he saw her reach out a trembling hand to Rachel. Rachel stood in the shadows looking confused and exhausted. "Hi, Ethan."

He eased Abby to one side. She couldn't possibly imagine the impact she was having on him. The blue nightgown skimmed her body and outlined her full breasts. It dipped low enough to tantalize him with shadows and curves. He put one arm around her waist just so he could continue touching the soft fabric and the softer woman underneath. He entered the house. "Hey, Rach. You doing okay?"

Rachel shrugged. She wore cotton pajamas and
Tweety-Bird slippers. "It was kind of creepy, you know? He woke me up when he started messing with the window."

Ethan glanced at Abby. Her face was as colorless as an icicle. The dark blue satin accentuated the circles under her eyes. Her hair was unbound and untidy, another sign of her general distress. She looked considerably more shaken than her sister. "Let's sit down," he suggested.

Abby followed his lead. Rachel trailed behind them and flopped into the armchair. "We called the police. They should be here soon."

Ethan guided Abby to the sofa. He took the seat next to her and reached for her hand. "Tell me what happened."

"I was on the sofa," she said, shoving a wayward curl behind her ear. "I fell asleep reading."

His gaze flicked to the coffee table. A no
v
el and a half-empty glass of milk sat near the edge.

"I was upstairs," Rachel added. "I went to bed right after you left."

Ethan nodded. "Around ten."

"Yeah." Rachel slung her legs over the arm of the chair. "I woke up when I heard the glass break."

Beside him, Abby shuddered. "I saw his hands. He was reaching for the lock."

"I heard Abby yell at him."

"And Rachel ran downstairs."

"I didn't know what was going on."

Abby's fingers had tightened on his hand. "I grabbed the umbrella from the coat rack and hit him across the face."

"You should have seen it," Rachel said. "She whacked him right across the nose. He started howling."

Abby gave Ethan a hollow look. "He would have come in. If I'd been upstairs—"

"You weren't," he reminded her gently. "And he didn't."

She shivered. "God. How could this happen?"

The mirror above her mantel reflected the flashing blue lights of a squad car. Rachel jumped up from the chair. "I'll get it."

Ethan took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Abby's shoulders. She leaned heavily against his side. "It's going to be all right," he told her. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. "I promise it's going to be all right."

"Thank you for coming," she whispered.

He brushed her hair away from her face and gently traced his fingers along her cheek. "Abby,
honey, listen to me a minute."

"I don't know why I got so scared," she continued. "It's just that I always felt so safe here."

"I know."

"I didn't think something like this could happen."

"I know," he said again.

She shivered. He could hear Rachel talking to
the police officers in the foyer. "I know I'm being silly."

"No, you're not. Baby, listen to me."

"I'm sorry I'm being so hysterical."

He cupped her face to get her attention. "I need to know if he said anything—anything at all."

Abby shook her head. "No." She frowned. "Not until I hit him with the umbrella. He called me a bitch because he cut his hand on the glass trying to go back out through the window. So I hit him again."

Ethan suppressed a smile and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "That's all he said?"

She was still very shaky. "Yes."

He pulled her to him again. "Okay." He didn't like the way she was shivering. "I think you should have some tea now."

"I'm all right."

"Honey, you're shaking like a leaf."

"It's just aftereffects."

Two policemen entered the living room with Rachel. Ethan glanced at them over Abby's head. "Thanks for coming. I'm Ethan Maddux."

"No problem." The taller of the two nodded. "I'm Detective Nick Krestyanov. This is my partner, Detective Garrison. We need to ask some questions."

"I told them what I know," Rachel announced.

"Ms. Lee," Detective Garrison said to Abby, "can you talk to us for a few minutes?"

She pulled away from Ethan's embrace with a slight shudder. "Yes. Yes, I'm all right."

Ethan looked at Rachel and mouthed, "Tea." She stared at him for a minute, then seemed to understand the silent question. With a nod, she padded toward the kitchen. The two detectives sat in the chairs opposite the sofa. Ethan used the opportunity to get up and walk casually toward the broken window. Shards of glass crunched beneath his feet. He picked up a cotton throw rug and tossed it over the pile of glass beneath the sill.

"Were you in the house, Mr. Maddux?" he heard Detective Krestyanov ask.

Ethan glanced back over his shoulder. "No. I came when Abby called."