Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (34 page)

Christian understood the young man’s rage, his desire to make somebody hurt the way he was hurting. Christian had felt that way when his parents died. So he let Wes vent. If Christian got angry, it would only escalate the confrontation.

“I know you’re hurting — ”

“Don’t pretend you know how I feel or that you sympathize with me.”

Gabrielle stepped between them. “You’ve had your say, now you’d better leave.”

“What are you, this coward’s mouthpiece? Are you his damn lawyer?”

Gabrielle lowered her voice. “I’m a citizen witnessing someone intent on committing a crime. Unless you want to see some jail time, I suggest you leave.”

Masterson’s hands clenched into fists. “You haven’t heard the last of me.” He stalked off across the lawn.

“Get me inside.” Christian was near the end of his strength, both physically and emotionally.

The reporters looked ready to converge when Gabrielle opened the door and pulled him inside. As soon as she closed the door, Christian slid down the wall in a slump.

Gabrielle couldn’t have caught Christian if she’d tried. She leaped to his side as his butt hit the floor.

“Christian.”

His hand came up to feebly wave her off. “I’m all right. Just leave me be.” He sank his head into his hands.

“You didn’t kill his sister,” she said.

“I know that. You know that. But he doesn’t believe me when I tell him the truth. To the world, I’m still a murderer.”

“Not to your lawyer. Not to Kernfelter.”

He looked at her with anguish in his eyes. “I want the people that matter to know the truth.” He waved toward the door. “Him, and the other relatives. I know how helpless and lost Masterson feels. I’ve been there. It hurts just to look at him and know I can’t help him. But it hurts even more knowing he thinks I’m to blame.”

“He won’t have long to wait until we learn the truth.”

“He needs to know the truth now. I need people to know the truth now.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never been hated before. I don’t like it.”

There was the vulnerable man again, the very human, fragile being. Gabrielle felt compelled to touch him, to ease his pain.

But how did she help him? Now when Christian needed some surety to hold onto, Gabrielle’s ‘gift’ was useless. It couldn’t be programmed to look at the future, much less a specific timeframe in the future.

She touched him anyway, because for most people, human contact was comforting. To her, it meant visions.

This one was of Christian as a teenager. His face was ravaged by grief as he stood before a double grave. Sod had not yet been laid over the dirt, nor had the headstones been set in place.

The young Christian’s fists clenched. “Why?” he demanded of the sky. “Why did you take them? I need them.”

The vision blurred out, as though there was too much emotion in the memory. Christian had shared their sexual daydreams. Had he relived this one as well and couldn’t face that memory anymore? Had he belatedly raised his natural shields?

“Don’t touch me.” Christian’s voice was hoarse.

“Let me help you to your bed so you can lie down.”

“I can lie down right here.”

Gabrielle huffed a breath. “Christian, you’re being stubborn. Your bed is much more comfortable.”

“Why should I be comfortable when innocent people are lying in graves? Someone took something I created and made a deathtrap out of it. Even when I’m cleared of the charges, people will still associate my name with the Densmore disaster. How will I handle that?”

“You just go on.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Going on after someone hurt you?”

Gabrielle released his arm. She couldn’t let him see he was on target. Her pain was private, her insecurities and doubts better off hidden from the world.

“C’mon, I’m moving you to your bedroom.”

Gabrielle braced her feet and tugged Christian up. She ignored the resultant vision as best she could. She had enough to deal with right now.

When he was on his feet, groaning and holding his head in pain, she guided him slowly across the living room to the wide doorway she assumed was the master bedroom. His condo was fairly new, the walls a neutral cream, the dark molding a pleasing contrast. His furniture, chocolate brown leather, invited her to sink into its supple depths. The effect was very masculine.

His bedroom was just as masculine, with big walnut pieces. The queen-sized bed was her fantasy come true, with four tall posts and a plush burgundy comforter.

Underneath, the sheets were burgundy and cream striped. She wondered if some old girlfriend had helped him pick out the bedding. She fought down jealousy, having no reason to be envious of any woman in Christian’s life.

She helped Christian lie down in the bed and with a groan, he stretched out. His left hand clutched his forehead near the white bandage.

“Do you want your medication?” she asked.

“Not yet. My stomach has to settle first. Then I have to call my doctor. I need my address book on the desk in the kitchen.”

As she left the room, Gabrielle attributed his curt tone to the pain in his head. She located the address book on the small built-in desk, but when she lifted it, a small piece of paper fluttered out. The name Sean Bergman screamed at her from it. When she picked it up, she got a picture of the man from the earlier vision — the one that included Christian’s brother, his partner and his lawyer — only this time he was older, with brown hair graying on the sides. What was he to Christian?

Gabrielle carried the address book back to the bedroom. Christian’s left hand massaged his temple, probably trying to ease his headache. His eyes were closed.

“I found the book,” Gabrielle said.

Christian’s lids flew open, uncovering blue eyes darkened with pain. She stepped close to him and handed him the small book.

“This fell out.” She handed him the piece of paper.

His fingers brushed hers as he took it, resulting in a vision.

The older Sean wrote quickly on a sheet of paper, tore it off and handed it to Christian. “Here, take my number. Call me day or night, no matter what. I’m here for you.”

“I won’t need you,” Christian said.

“I’ll feel better knowing you have my number.”

Christian pulled away from her and the vision was lost. “Thanks.” His voice was gruff. “Would you mind giving me a little privacy for this call?”

She wanted very much to hear what he had to say to his doctor, but obviously Christian didn’t want her to hear. Did he have a medical condition that wasn’t public knowledge?

Gabrielle scoffed at herself. Maybe Christian was intensely private about his health … like she was about her clairvoyance.

Down a short hall to the right was Christian’s office. Every surface was piled with papers and blueprints and notes, reminding her of Roger Barrett’s office yesterday. Christian had a modern, well-equipped office in Troy, yet it looked like he worked here as well. He loved his job so much, he couldn’t turn it off when he got home. It was sad, in a way. Of course, who was she to judge?

The dining room held an older maple table and six chairs. Suddenly she realized what she was seeing. She stroked her finger across a chair back and confirmed the set had belonged to Christian’s parents. She wondered if his bedroom furniture was also his inheritance.

She thought about how tightly he held onto his past. She couldn’t imagine having lost her mother during her teen years, and surely Christian had a more normal relationship with his parents than she had with her mother. He must have been devastated to lose them.

The refrigerator shelves were mostly bare, except for some yogurt, which a quick check proved to be expired. Christian had said he’d been away and her palm on the door confirmed it. But his office looked like he’d been here working. Which was true?

She heard a muffled sound, but couldn’t place it. She froze, cocking her head. In a moment, it came again. Smiling to herself because it was Christian calling for her from behind the closed bedroom door, she went to him.

He lay back against his pillow, his face white and drawn, tracking her movements with his eyes. “I need your assistance.”

Gabrielle came to the edge of the bed, but didn’t touch him. “What do you need?”

His blue eyes darkened further. “What I need, you won’t give me.”

In the pause that followed, she couldn’t reply. The need in his eyes was tinged with something like the fact that his dining room set was how he clung to his parents. She didn’t want him clinging to her during these desperate hours just because he had no one else. Because eventually his desperation would ease.

Gabrielle swallowed and ignored Christian’s words.

In a moment, he sighed and spoke again, this time in a flat tone. “I can have half a pain pill. Would you cut several in half for me?”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“My cell phone. I need to call my brother before he hears what happened from someone else.”

“You should probably call your lawyer, too.”

“Right.”

She turned to retrieve his cell phone from her purse, but his voice recalled her attention.

“Gabrielle?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry the news cameras caught you with me. I know you wanted to be discreet.”

Damn. She hadn’t thought of that. Now she had something else to worry about.

Christian’s phone call to his brother raised his blood pressure enough to double the throbbing in his head.

“Are you sure someone cut you off?” Paul asked, after hearing about the accident and Christian’s injury.

“Yes, I’m sure. Cars were swerving in and out of traffic, driving crazy in the rain.”

“Maybe it wasn’t an accident.”

His brother’s tone puzzled Christian. “What do you mean?”

Paul’s sigh gusted over the phone. “Christian, are you taking your meds?”

Gritting his teeth sent shards of pain into his head. “You think I ran into the divider on purpose?” It was difficult keeping his voice down so Gabrielle wouldn’t hear through the open door. “I told you I’m not suicidal.”

“It just seems too coincidental that out of the million people in Detroit, you’d be involved in an accident.”

“I wasn’t the only one. We saw quite a few fender benders. It was just a freak thing that I hit my head.”

“Kit, you’re not acting like yourself. First you make accusations against me, now this. Maybe I should have a talk with Sean.”

Christian’s blood pressure skyrocketed until he thought he might have a stroke. “There’s nothing wrong with me, and I’ve already spoken to Sean.”

“What’d he say?”

“That’s none of your business. He’s my doctor, so what’s between us is private.”

“I’ll call him and talk to him.”

Suddenly Christian was tired of being treated like a child. He’d be damned if their fraternity connection allowed Sean to spill his latest consultation to his brother. Or allowed Paul to dictate his treatment plan.

“Paul, I’m hanging up now and calling Sean. I’m going to tell him if he says one word to you about me, I’ll file a suit against him under HIPAA.” He hung up before he could allow his brother’s pleading to sway him.

Guilt washed over him, hot and nauseating. Paul had always taken care of him, always watched out for him. He’d known what Christian needed both times he’d fallen into serious depressions. He should listen to his brother.

No. He was thirty-two years old. He was back on his medication and no longer depressed. He was taking control of his life. He dialed Sean.

In less than two minutes, he’d laid down the law to Sean, revoking Paul’s HIPAA privileges. No matter what Sean owed to Paul, Christian was his patient. Sean was reluctant at first, which solidified Christian’s resolve to break from him.

As soon as he hung up, his cell rang. Wary, Christian looked at the number before answering. Shit. The other fraternity brother. His lawyer.

“Hello, Bryce.”

“What’s going on? Paul just called me, ranting that you’d gone crazy and had an accident. He says we need to get you back in Crittenden right away.”

Damn those frat brothers. “Who do you work for, Bryce?” He channeled all his anger into his voice, making it as sharp as broken glass.

There was a telling pause. “So we’re back to that again.”

“Yes. Either you believe in me, or I find another lawyer.”

“Tell me what happened.” Bryce’s voice was as neutral as it had been in his office yesterday.

Anger still burned in Christian’s veins. His temple throbbed with the force of his blood pressure. But he gave Bryce the details of the accident and added everything he and Gabrielle had learned along the way.

“So there are several suspects. I’ll file the request for a subpoena for Jeremy Barrett’s handwriting. The sooner Kernfelter analyzes the other samples, the sooner we’ll have evidence to present in your defense.”

“Any word on the request to dismiss?”

“Nothing yet. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

“Bryce, I need you not to report to Paul. I’m your client. If I want Paul to know something, I’ll tell him.”

Another long pause, much like the one from Sean. “My relationship with your brother is long-standing.”

Christian waited. Either Bryce was on his side … or he wasn’t. Still, Christian was uneasy having to remind the frat brothers that he was their client. Why had it become him versus Paul?

“All right,” Bryce said. “I’ll call when I have any updates.”

Christian tossed the phone onto the bed beside him. He felt sick, and not just from the concussion. He’d never felt more alone than he did at this moment. Although he’d gotten both Sean and Bryce’s agreement, he didn’t trust either man. At this moment, he wasn’t even sure he trusted his brother.

He had made one mistake, and suddenly in Paul’s eyes he was that seventeen-year-old boy who couldn’t take care of himself. That doubt hurt, cutting deep. Now Paul didn’t trust him, and neither did Paul’s friends. They wondered if he was a bomb about to explode. He was glad they couldn’t see him now, lying helpless in bed, unable to marshal his own defense against the criminal charges. He was pathetic.