Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce) (19 page)

A cheer went up, louder than the tractor’s noise. Women clapped. Men smiled and nodded.

Thomas grinned and shot a look at Ronni.

Her face said it all. Relief, joy, and something else. Was she impressed?
Hell, yeah
.

Score one for Mann
. He’d never impressed a woman by fixing a tractor before, but he’d take the shiny gold star and work it for all it was worth.

You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Agent Punto.

He did his best
aw, shucks
gesture to the crowd, stepped down from the tractor, and swept his hand from Elgin and Ralph toward the seat. “She’s all yours, boys.”

Ralph went to work shooing off the onlookers as the doctor claimed the tractor seat. Thomas wanted to walk up to Adam and rub his accomplishment in a little, but he could hear Ronni’s voice in his head telling him that was too alpha male. So instead, he channeled beta male as much as possible and simply nodded at Adam and headed for the men’s quarters to clean up.

He was ten yards away when Adam called. “Thomas!”

Turning, he saw Adam and Ronni walking toward him. Melanie watched, lingering near the front porch of the house. Thomas jogged back, meeting Adam halfway. “Something wrong?”

“Dinner at the house is in twenty minutes. I’d like you to be my guest.”

Score
. A dinner invite.
Bye-bye quarantine
. “I’ll be there.”

As Adam headed for the house, Ronni lingered a few feet away. “Nice work, Boy Scout.”

“Thanks. You okay?”

“I’m good.”

She was, too. He could see it in the clear-eyed confidence on her face. Hear it in the buoyant tone of her voice. “See you at dinner.”

She gave a small wave and followed her brother.

When Ronni heard the doorbell chime at 5:59, she nearly sprinted down the stairs to answer it.

Melanie got there before her. “Thomas, come in. You don’t need to ring the doorbell, for heaven’s sake!”

Ronni nearly tripped on the last stair when Thomas entered, clean and freshly shaven, with not a hair out of place. He’d donned black dress pants and a deep blue shirt that set off his eyes. His locked on Ronni’s face, and she lost her footing.

Catching herself with the banister, she cursed the fact she was still wearing the same old jeans and red t-shirt. She hadn’t thought to change.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Melanie said, hovering and smiling.

“As always, you look beautiful, Melly.”

A hand flew to her chest. “My mother used to call me that.”

“I’m sure she’s as beautiful as you.”

Tears rose in Melanie’s eyes. “She passed last year.”

Thomas took her hand. “I’m so sorry. I won’t call you that again.”

Mr. Nice Guy
. And Melanie fell for it one-hundred-percent. “Oh, no. Don’t you dare stop calling me that. I love it.”

The Boy Scout charm strikes again
.

Melanie led Thomas toward the front room where she had seated him and Ronni earlier that day. “Dinner is almost ready. I’ll show you to the dining room when it’s time.”

As she swept past Ronni, heading for the kitchen, Ronni noticed Melanie’s cheeks were flushed. “Do you need help with dinner?” she asked.

“How sweet of you to offer.” The woman reached up and patted her hand still on the banister. “But I’ve got everything under control.”

She disappeared down the hallway, her kitten heels clacking on the wooden floors. Ronni started to head upstairs to change when she heard “
pssst
”.

Thomas had stuck his head out and was motioning her to come into the room.

A quick scan revealed no one in sight, so she jogged down the final stairs. “What?”

“Found any bugs or cameras?” he whispered. When she shook her head no, he smiled. “Me, either.”

Without warning, he drew her into the sitting room, wrapped her in his arms, and brought his mouth down on hers.

The kiss was so unexpected she didn’t have time to protest. Didn’t have time to think. Her arms automatically went around his neck. His body was hard and warm and strong under her hands.

His hands massaged her lower back, locked on and held her hips against his. His tongue slid past her lips. Unlike the kiss on his couch, this one was deep. Intimate. A stolen kiss inside enemy territory. She’d never been kissed in such an intimate and thrilling manner.

She hated to admit it, but Thomas banished the fear inside her. Made her feel wild and wanton. Confident…like the way she used to be before Petero Valquis had blindsided her. There didn’t seem to be a situation Thomas couldn’t handle. A problem he couldn’t fix.

But what was he doing sneaking a passionate kiss into the evening’s agenda? What did it mean?

She broke away, her breath coming in jerky huffs. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing the worry off your face.”

“Not the time or place. And I haven’t had a chance to check all the hidey-holes for bugs or cameras. They could be well-hidden.”

“I don’t think there are any.” He scanned her eyes. “I wish you’d told me sooner about Adam being your brother.”

He’d taken it so well. She was grateful for that. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“I understand.”

Did he? “Seen anything suspicious yet?”

“Nothing. You?”

She shook her head. “Behave yourself at dinner.”

He lightly touched one of her lips with his thumb. “What fun is that?”

“Thomas.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”

“I have to go change.”

She started to walk away and he pulled her back. “Meet me at your car tonight. Midnight.”

Footsteps reverberated overhead. “I’m not leaving yet.”

“We need to talk.”

Right
. If that kiss meant anything, he had more than talking in mind. “I’ll try, but no promises. This house will be hard to sneak out of.” Especially from the third floor tower room. The views from up there were amazing, but it felt like a prison nevertheless. “Creaking floors, squeaky doors, and too many guards.” Jacob and the coonhound to name a few.

He squeezed her hand. “Try hard.”

The next few hours flew by. Dinner was served, Kristine and Melanie joining them. Kristine was quiet, Melanie talked nonstop, and Thomas flirted too much, but did a good job at reigning in his alpha tendencies. Ronni only had to kick him once under the table to stop a particular rant about The New York Giants and a recent trade they’d made with the The Dallas Cowboys for a star quarterback.

Surprisingly, Adam discussed more than scriptures and the farm. He and Thomas had an in-depth discussion about California politics and the flood of immigrants and their effect on the economy. At that point, Melanie fell quiet, and so did Ronni. Listening to Thomas and Adam solve California’s problems was an interesting distraction, but mostly she couldn’t keep track of what they were saying. Her mind kept drifting to all the tantalizing things midnight in her car might bring.

“Let’s take a picture,” Melanie said to Adam out of the blue. She was no doubt tired of the football and politics talk. “Of you and Roanna.”

She produced a Polaroid camera and took several instant photos, directing Adam and Ronni into poses in front of the fireplace. Adam put an arm around Ronni’s shoulders and smiled amicably. Ronni tried hard to smile the same way.

Later, Adam and Thomas adjourned to the den, Adam pocketing one of the photos. Ronni helped the other women clean up. Melanie turned on a radio, Kristine and Ronni took turns washing, drying, and stacking dishes. Melanie and Kristine had a routine and Ronni found herself more in the way than anything. Her mind kept wandering to the den and what Adam and Thomas might be discussing.

This was her chance to sneak into Adam’s office upstairs and go through his things. She should beg off with a headache or something and pretend to head off to her room. Every time she started to say something, Melanie would ask her a question. So she stayed and talked and listened to Kristine hum along to songs as she and Melanie worked together to wipe down the appliances.

Finally, Ronni said goodnight and excused herself, lingering outside the den’s door, just off the kitchen. She heard voices, but none of them belonged to her brother or Thomas.

Are they watching TV?
While the women worked, the men relaxed.

Typical.

Ronni was about to head upstairs when she overheard Melanie’s voice in the kitchen. “
Tonight?
You’re going to tell him tonight?”

Kristine answered. “I’m ten weeks along by my calculations. It’s time.”

Ronni inched back toward the kitchen door.

“Have you told Lance yet?” Melanie.

Kristine sighed. “Not yet.”

“Maybe you should tell him first.”

“I’m afraid he’ll be angry.”

“Of course he’ll be angry. The two of you tried for ten years. One night with Adam and you’re pregnant?”

Wait.
What?
Ronni’s pulse pounded a fast rhythm. Kristine was pregnant with Adam’s baby?

“Lance knew this was a possibility.” This from Kristine. It was the longest string of words Ronni had heard the woman say. “Adam’s child may be the next savior. I’m blessed to be the mother.”

Melanie made a derisive noise. “Lance is a man. A man with a strong ego. Trust me, he
will
be angry. And hurt. You should talk to him first. At least do him that small favor.”

The two of you tried for ten years.
Tried to have a baby? What about their daughter, Paige?

“I thought you’d be happy for me.” Kristine.

“I am.” Melanie’s tone contradicted her words. “Adam is fond of you and he thinks the world of Lance. My only hope is that this child brings the three of you closer together and doesn’t tear you apart. It may also upset the others who are without mates and seek the same thing—to be the mother of Adam’s child. Everything is going so well. We don’t need that right now.”

“What’s done is done.”

A shuffling of footsteps. Melanie’s voice. “Just promise me you’ll tell Lance first. You owe him that.”

“Fine. I’ll tell him tonight. But first thing tomorrow, I will speak to Adam and give him the news.”

Kristine’s sensible shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor as she headed Ronni’s way. Ronni barely had time to duck into the shadows by the back door before the woman swept out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Ronni glimpsed her face. Tears dampened her cheeks.

What the hell?

Kristine was in her thirties. Married to Lance. With a daughter. Was the girl adopted?

If it was true that she and Lance had tried for a child and now she was pregnant with Adam’s child, Melanie was right. Lance would be angry and hurt. What normal man wouldn’t be?

Maybe Adam was like Daniel in more ways than one.

Saddened, Ronni quietly took the stairs to her room.

At 11:45, she snuck out.

She rubbed baby oil she found in the bathroom on her squeaky door hinges, left off her shoes, and avoided the spots on the stairs where the wood popped and groaned. As she slowly slid her socked feet across the polished hardwood floors and crept down the three flights of stairs to the front door, she prayed the dog wouldn’t be waiting for her on the porch.

The house was dark and quiet, except for the normal sounds…the refrigerator motor humming in the kitchen, the soft ticking of a grandfather clock in the den.

For several long moments, she stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening. The clock ticked off the seconds, and in her mind, she saw the place decorated for the upcoming holidays, Melanie busy as ever with garlands, wreaths, and all the trimmings. The old Victorian house would be beautiful, its stair railings wound with lights, red ribbons, and sparkling swags over the doorways. If Ronni inhaled, she could almost smell the pine mixed with the herbs grown on the farm.

A longing for family burned in her stomach. She rubbed a hand over her abdomen, felt the spot between her shoulder blades itch.

Bury it, she told herself.
Bury the what-ifs and all that useless sentiment
.

But still her brain raced. What would it be like to live here? To be here for Christmas with Adam, baking cookies in the big kitchen, wrapping gifts in the sitting room while a fire blazed in the fireplace? Home, her mind answered.
It would feel like a real home
.

Too vivid
. That family holiday she’d never had. The images in her mind were too real.

Her chest contracted.
They’re also false, Punto.

Veering left, she headed for the back door. No matter the trappings and outward appearances, this place wasn’t home. The people who lived here weren’t a family.

Easing open the back door, she slipped outside into the cool night air. The day’s humidity had diminished and the breeze felt fresh, alive. The images in her head cleared, and she stood for a second composing herself.