Chapter 1
Slade pulled up in front of the address Bethany Simmons had given him and turned off the engine. The SUV sat there, pinging, warmth drifting in from the open window, a light breeze scented with pine. Oregon was dry this year. Brown pine needles littered a fenced front yard, almost covering the dry grass. Colored toys lay strewn around like a hurricane had left them there.
Bethany’s children must still be young and Tayra’s ill and having to deal with little kids? He shook his head. His sarcasm meter was peaked, but he’d better put a lid on that. No sense making things worse. He also shouldn’t be making assumptions. Bethany Simmons might run a day-care for all he knew, or could be looking after the neighbor’s kids. He glanced around. Not many neighbors here.
The house stood back from the main street, just off of a winding road. It looked rustic—logs and a green metal roof. An orange Volkswagen that had seen better days stood in the driveway. There wasn’t any garage. Bright flowers of some kind in boxes off of the front porch danced in the light breeze. The front door opened and the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long time stepped out. The screen door banged shut behind her.
This had to be Bethany Simmons.
His first thought was that she looked a lot like her sister, Tayra. His second was that Bethany had the kind of beauty that would age well. High cheekbones, sharp jaw line, wide hips on an otherwise slender frame. Even though he judged her to be in her thirties, she had the look of someone weathered—like teak that had aged, the edges all a little softened, the colors mellowed. Her shoulders slumped a little and Slade wondered if he shouldn’t have made it a higher priority to get here faster.
He’d had to spend four days in San Diego before he could get up here—business had demanded his time, in the form of a tangle only he could smooth. He’d worried the whole time. Bethany—Tayra’s sister—hadn’t sounded good on the phone when he’d spoken to her. She hadn’t sounded as if she had urgent business, but she had sounded troubled. She’d also wanted Brock, but Slade wasn’t going to pull Brock away from his honeymoon—not when the guy had barely gotten a good relationship going. Finally.
Now, Slade was wondering what the little something was that Tayra had forgotten to mention in her ‘Dear John’ letter that she’d written all of those years ago to Brock.
Slade didn’t know the full details of what was wrong now, but Tayra was ill. He knew that from what Bethany had let drop. It seems Tayra had been sick for a long time, and fighting. Bethany had said that if Brock couldn’t come, someone needed to come to Oregon. Well, he was here. Now what?
Bethany stood on the porch, shading her eyes with one hand. She was dressed in black, but the skirt and shirt looked old, a little brown on the edges. She had on black pumps and her brown hair curled around her face, tugged at by the breeze.
Behind her, a young boy came out of the house in a black suit and white shirt. His narrow tie looked crooked. He slipped his hand into Bethany’s, and she helped him down the three steps to the sidewalk. Slade watched them, frowning. The boy had something wrong with his legs. A surge of compassion for the kid tugged at him.
He got out of his car and headed toward Bethany. She looked like she’d been crying; her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks splotchy. He caught a faint hint of perfume—lilacs, something as delicate and heart-stopping as she was. Slade halted in the shade of a large pine, his face damp with sweat. The boy looked up at him, watching, with his head tipped back and his eyes bright.
He looks like… Tayra. He even has her eyes.
Tayra’s eyes had been as unique as the woman herself. They’d changed color with her moods. Tick her off and icy gray slipped in. When she was happy, the color shifted to an almost moss green. She’d put Brock through the ringer, and Slade had developed a dislike for the woman because of that. His people were his family and he looked after family. Tayra might be the ex-Mrs. Brock Wells, but she’d still been married to one of Slade’s people. That made her family, too. Still.
The question was—what was Bethany?
Slade glanced at her again. Her expression hadn’t changed from wooden, but he was stunned at the grief he saw in her eyes. He knew at once that he’d come too late. At least, too late to see Tayra alive.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. What else could he say?
She leveled her gaze at him and asked him, her voice cold, “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that, Slade?”
***
Bethany watched the man in her yard. She knew his name was Slade, but had no idea if that was his first name or last. She knew he owned and ran Slade Security, where Brock Wells worked—Tayra’s ex-husband. She’d called the company since it was the only number she’d had for Brock. Now she had Brock’s boss in front of her, not Brock, and had no idea what to say or do.
She’d rehearsed a speech for Brock, not his boss. She chewed on her lower lip and hung onto Jason’s hand. This was supposed to be about her being able to adopt Jason as her own—and about righting a wrong Tayra had left behind. Just one more mess, Bethany thought. She shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking ill of the dead.
Pulling in a breath, she dragged back her temper, stomped it down. She was good at that. “I’m sorry. That was unbearably rude of me, but it has not been an easy day.”
“I’m sorry for your loss…”
“As am I.” She muttered the words, and from the flash of confusion in his eyes, she knew he had no idea what she was talking about. Not good. “Jason and I were just going out for ice cream.”
“Great. I’ll drive you.”
&n
bsp; Bethany glanced at his gleaming SUV, then at her ancient VW. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the same vehicle as this man—if even half of what Tayra had said were true, he was a dangerous man, in an even more dangerous line of work. But the SUV would have air conditioning and seats without springs that poked you in the butt. It would also have gas in it, which made it a no-contest decision.
She glanced down at Jason. “Jason, this is…Mr. Slade.”
“Just Slade will do. Hi ya, buddy.” He gave Jason a smile, and that wasn’t fair. Not fair at all that he’d have charm he could turn on like a light. Not fair when he had so much else going for him, and she didn’t mean a fancy, obviously new SUV, or an expensive-looking suit.