Jason moved to the bar, as if he were willing to do whatever she wanted. Zach considered leaving but before he could make his way to the door, footsteps sounded on the stairs and his mother and Nelson strolled into the room. Eunice took one look at Adria and for a split second her face drained of color, but she recovered herself. “So you’re Ms. Nash,” she said, extending her hand, though she appeared anything but friendly. Her eyes were cool, her mouth pinched at the corners, her skin stretched tightly over the bones of her face. “I’m Eunice Smythe.”
Adria knew quite a bit about the woman whose fingers felt like dry parchment, but mostly she’d pieced together rumors. She would love to know the truth. There had been gossip that Witt had divorced Eunice because of infidelity with Polidori, though, of course, no one but Eunice knew the truth. Whatever had happened between Witt and his wife, it had cost Eunice. She’d been denied custody of her children in a time when a father’s rights were virtually ignored.
“Well, Adria. Nelson tells me you think you’re Witt’s long-lost daughter.” Eunice’s smile was as cold as steel as she let go of Adria’s fingers.
Jason handed Adria the glass of wine she really hadn’t wanted. She held the stem in a death grip. Her throat was suddenly dry, her fingers damp with sweat. “That’s why I’m here, yes,” Adria replied. “To find out the truth.”
“The truth,” Eunice murmured as she studied Adria. “Sometimes so elusive.” Without so much as a sip, Adria set her drink on a nearby table. “So let’s get down to it, shall we?” Eunice settled into a cream-colored chair. “Nicole, would you be a dear and fix me a gin and tonic?” she asked her daughter-in-law, and when Nicole poured the drink and handed it to her, Eunice patted the younger woman’s slim arm. “That’s a good girl.”
“Always,” Nicole replied in a brittle voice as she shot her husband a glance that would have cut through granite.
Every muscle in Adria’s body was strung tight; tension was thick in the air and she didn’t know which was worse, being stared at by the dead animal heads mounted on the walls, or by the very living beasts that congregated around her. You asked for this, she reminded herself. You knew it would be tough, so just hang in there! Giving herself a mental shake, she sat on the edge of the couch, directly across the glass-topped coffee table from Eunice, and refused to give in to the impulse to stare at Zachary, to silently ask for his help.
Jason slid onto the couch next to her.
Zachary looked bored. He leaned against the stones of the fireplace, his features composed, his gaze fixed on her, his jaw looking as if it hadn’t seen a razor for a couple of days.
Adria shifted a little and watched as Nelson slung a leg over his mother’s chair, positioning himself near her. Nicole, after delivering the drink to her mother-in-law, caught her husband’s commanding gaze and hastily said something about checking on her daughter before hurrying up the stairs. Trisha didn’t join the rest of the group, but preferred to sit on a stool at the bar, where she smoked and drank and observed everyone from a distance. There was a bitterness to her, a hardness Adria couldn’t comprehend.
“No one here believes you,” Eunice stated flatly.
“I expected as much.”
“So you came ready to accept defeat.”
“I came for—”
“I know, I know.” Eunice waved in the air, as if swatting a bothersome insect. “The truth. Listen,” she leaned closer, “let’s get past all this talk about the truth, all right? It’s tedious. Noble, I suppose, but tedious just the same, and we all know it’s a lie. What you really want is to be taken seriously enough so that the family scrambles around and offers you a decent amount of money to go back to wherever it is you came from.”
“I didn’t—”
“Cut the crap,” Nelson said quietly. “We’re prepared to pay you, but you’d have to sign a document—”
“Aren’t any of you interested in the fact that I could, just could, be your sister?” Adria asked. “I know you’re worried about the estate, but think about it, what if I really am London?”
“Doesn’t make any difference,” Trisha said through a cloud of smoke. “To us, you’re a stranger, and if you fell off the earth, we wouldn’t care.” Her lips curved up just a little. “In fact, a few of us might celebrate.”
“Trisha!” Eunice said sharply, then turned her attention from her daughter to Adria. “She’s a little harsh.”
“Look, I don’t need this. I thought you called me here to talk to me, to ask me questions, to help me find out the truth, but I guess I was wrong.” She stood and slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Believe it or not, I didn’t drive to Portland to wreak havoc on your lives, or steal your fortune, or hurt anyone in any way.”
“Of course you did,” Trisha said.
Adria’s back stiffened. “I won’t give up.”
Trisha, with her cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, clapped her hands. “Bravo! What a fine performance!”
“Stop it, Trisha!” Zachary said so vehemently that Eunice’s eyes narrowed on her second son.
Jason ignored the outburst. “We could make it worth your while.”
“You still want to pay me off?” She picked up her glass and sipped.
“Mmm. Say twenty-five thousand?”
She almost choked on a swallow of wine. She had expected a bribe, but the amount staggered her. “I—I don’t think so.”
Jason’s smile tightened. “We’d be willing to go up to fifty.”
Nelson visibly blanched and when Adria shot a glance in Zach’s direction, he returned her stare impassively. He was in on it! He wanted to buy her out, too. Her blood boiled silently because she’d told herself that he was different, that he would help her, that he, the rebel, cared. Obviously she’d been mistaken.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, setting her drink on the table with trembling fingers, “I think I’ll go pack.”
Jason was on his feet. “You don’t have to move out of the hotel—”
“Of course I do. Staying there was a mistake. Only one of many.” Her gaze swiveled once again to Zachary’s and this time she saw a little spark of the fire in his gray eyes. She thought about their kisses in his Jeep, the anger and passion that had radiated from him. Had it all been part of the plan to break down her defenses? Would he stoop low enough to try and seduce her, just to scare her off? Sick at the thought, she squared her shoulders, turned on her heel, and marched up the stairs. As far as she was concerned, the battle lines had been drawn. The Danvers family could rot in hell for all she cared.
The locket glittered and spun, catching the light as it dangled from a worn gold chain. Cheap. A fake. Like the woman who owned it.
It had been a big risk sneaking into Adria’s hotel room, but sometimes risks were necessary. And look what the spoils were—a cheap piece of jewelry and an even cheaper pair of panties. Oh, they were sexy enough. Black lace and not much of it.
Adria Nash was obviously into carnal pleasures, or perhaps she was a tease.
So much like Kat.
In the privacy of a hotel room, Katherine’s killer clenched Adria’s personal items in angry hands and tried to calm down. It was impossible. Unwanted memories of Kat continued to haunt and torment the one person who had so desperately wanted to bury Katherine LaRouche Danvers forever.
Even now, as Katherine’s killer stood near the windows of a penthouse suite with a view of Portland’s city lights, the panorama was lost beneath visions of long black hair that gleamed blue as it fell down an unmarred back, breasts that were full and high, long legs that promised men dangerous pleasures.
Kat.
Would she never die?
Would her image never fade?
Dear God, how long would this torment go on?
As long as the family is threatened. As long as there is a chance Kat’s child is alive; as long as London walks this earth.
Rage coursed through the blood of Katherine’s killer. The locket, clenched so tightly, cut into a palm, drawing blood that was wiped with the scrap of lace Adria Nash called underwear.
No, this job was far from finished. The threat still existed.
Because of Adria Nash.
Because of London.
But that would change.
Soon.
Very, very soon.
14