The Betrayed

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Danae nodded. “So if you have to wait on special orders, you can keep working on other things.”

“Exactly.”

“Then I guess we can start downstairs.”

We? The last thing he needed was the cagey heiress lingering over his shoulder while he cased the house, especially now that his mind had formed a permanent imprint of her absolutely perfect rear end. But before he could formulate a logical argument, she spun around and headed to the kitchen, then came right back with a pad of paper and a pen.

“It will probably go faster if you dictate as you go,” she said. “I can make the notes. That way you don’t have to stop what you’re doing to write.”

He nodded, unable to argue with the efficiency her plan presented. “I assume you have a basic idea of the layout, so lead the way.”

She pointed to rooms that lined the south side of the house. “We can start over there and work our way around.”

He followed her into the first room and was pleased to find it only contained a table, dresser and a couple of boxes. The west window was intact, but a sheet of plywood covered the wall where he guessed a south-facing window was located. “What happened here?” he asked, pointing to the plywood.

“I haven’t asked about it yet, but I assume the guy who attacked my sister broke it to get inside. The plywood covering it looks new.”

He stared at her. “Someone attacked your sister in the house?”

“Yeah.” She frowned then shook her head. “I guess I forget it’s just hitting the news this morning. He attacked her here but she ran into the swamp and got away. He caught up with her trying to get away in her SUV, and that’s when Carter shot and killed him.”

He stared at her for a moment, trying to absorb the implications of trying to keep his cover intact at a crime scene. This entire situation was becoming more complicated by the minute. “Wow! Is she all right?”

“She’s fine.” Danae cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment. “Most people would ask who was trying to kill her and why.”

“You said it just hit the news. I can catch up on the local gossip later. I have a younger cousin who’s more like a brother to me. I guess I was thinking about something happening to him.”

“Are you always this logical?”

“I try to be. It seems to make life easier.”

“Well, then, I guess we best get back to this list. I don’t want to throw you off course.”

He crossed to the intact window and studied it. “I’ll have to remove the plywood to check the dimensions, so I’ll leave off replacing the window for later. I’m going to have to special-order something to even come close to matching the others, but I know a guy in New Orleans who specializes in making windows for restoration projects. I can get some pictures tomorrow and see what he can do.”

He reached up for the latches and opened the window, then pulled it upward, but it stayed firmly in place. It only took a moment to realize the sliding pane of the window had been nailed into the frame. The oxidation on the edges of the nails let him know that wasn’t a recent addition.

“This window is nailed shut,” he said.

“Yeah. They all are. I suppose my stepfather was agoraphobic and paranoid.”

“He didn’t want out and didn’t want anyone else in.” He shook his head. “That’s no way to live. I’ll remove the nails tomorrow—test all the windows and make sure they lift properly.”

“No!”

The single word came out with such force that he spun around, surprised. She stood with her arms crossed. Her face was slightly flushed and her jaw set in a hard line.

“I can’t test the windows if they’re nailed shut.”

“Then I guess they won’t get tested—not as long as I’m working in this house. At least this way, if someone wants to get in here, I’ll hear them coming or see the results of their attempt the next morning. What I don’t want is for someone to have the element of surprise.”

He studied her for a moment. Had he misjudged her? He’d thought her suspicious and hypercautious, but could Danae be tipping into the same realm of madness that her stepfather had lived the last of his life in?

“Are you expecting trouble?” he asked.

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “It’s just that the house is full of valuable antiques and if word gets out it’s empty at night...”

She was lying. She was very, very good at it, but he’d employed too many ex-cons to recognize a snow job when he was getting one. The house was full of antiques, and he suspected a lot of them were valuable, but that wasn’t the reason she was worried about intruders.

Maybe Danae had brought trouble with her to Calais. Maybe she was afraid that trouble was about to catch up with her. Either way, in addition to tiptoeing around with his own agenda, he was going to have to constantly look over his own shoulder, watching for whatever the heiress was hiding from.

“Okay,” he said finally. “It’s your house.”

He motioned to a door in the corner behind her. “Bathroom or closet?”

“Closet, I think. I’m sorry. There’re so many rooms, I haven’t gotten everything straight yet.”

She turned and pulled the door open. As soon as she did, a stack of boxes tilted out and toppled onto her, sending her reeling backward. Mice scattered across the floor, scurrying in every direction, looking for an escape.

He rushed forward, catching her before she crashed to the ground. She’d twisted her body in anticipation of the fall, trying to reach for the floor before slamming into it. Now she was gathered in his arms, the front of her toned, curvy body pressed against him. That beautiful face looking up at him—so strong, yet vulnerable.

It was a bad idea, but before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his lips to hers.

Her lips were soft and pliant as he caressed them with his own, and he felt a surge of excitement go through him that he hadn’t felt before from a simple kiss. He pressed harder, deepening the kiss, and was almost surprised when she responded, her lips searching his.

Then suddenly, she jumped up and backed away from him, one hand over her mouth. She stared at him, her face flushed, her expression a mixture of shock and anxiety.

“You should finish this yourself.” She whirled around and practically ran out of the room.

He stared at the empty doorway, trying to decide if he’d been a genius or a fool. On one hand, he’d probably prevented her from asking more intrusive questions about his life. Clearly, she wanted to avoid anything personal.

On the other hand, he’d enjoyed that kiss entirely too much for his own comfort.

Get in gear, Sargent!

He grabbed the paper and pen and hustled out of the room, his mind suddenly latching onto the golden opportunity she’d presented. For the first time since he’d entered the property, Danae wasn’t looking over his shoulder. She was flustered enough to rush off, so with any luck, she’d remain far away until he sought her out. That gave him a window of opportunity to create an entry into the home.

The one functional window in the first room had led straight into a huge, thorny rosebush, so it wasn’t an option. He hoped his luck would be better in the second room, but it had furniture and boxes stacked to the ceiling and he could barely squeeze inside. No feasible way to reach the windows existed, so he continued to the next room. This one wasn’t quite as cluttered, but it still contained stacks of paper, boxes and small furniture. He lifted several boxes away from the wall where he guessed the window was located and was pleased to find only two nails through the frame.

He hurried back to the doorway and glanced around the entry, then pulled out his pocketknife and began working the first nail from the frame. Every time the knife blade slipped from under the nail’s head, he mentally cursed and wished for the pry bar in his truck, but no way was he risking the opportunity by leaving the house to get it.

Finally, the first nail worked out of the frame and he checked the entry again before starting on the second nail. This one was deeper, leaving creases in the hardwood where it had been pounded into the frame, and he struggled to get even a tiny piece of his knife blade underneath.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud overhead and he froze before closing the pocketknife and shoving it into his jeans pocket. Then he dashed back to the front of the room and grabbed the paper and pen. He peered out the door, but saw no sign of Danae. Then a second thud echoed across the entry from above, letting him know someone was moving around upstairs.

Surely it was Danae working upstairs. He started to run back to the window to finish up but hesitated. Seconds later, Danae rushed into the entry from the kitchen hallway, her eyes wide.

Chapter Six

“Did you drop something?” Danae asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Zach shook his head and put one finger over his lips then pointed at the ceiling. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Then the split second of fear was gone and her expression hardened as she pulled a nine millimeter from her waistband.

He didn’t even bother to control his surprise. Minutes before, he’d had the woman wrapped in his arms and hadn’t even known she was packing serious firepower. Before he could even formulate a plan, she slipped silently across the entry and up the staircase. He hesitated only a second before hurrying behind her, cursing that his pistol was locked away in his truck along with his pry bar.

He caught up with her at the top of the stairs and pointed at the far end of the hallway to the right, where he thought the noise might have originated. She nodded and hurried down the hall, using the carpeted runner in the middle of the hallway to mask her footsteps.

Zach peered into each room as they passed, but if anyone was hiding inside, it would have taken more than a peek to discover them. The rooms were just as crowded with boxes and furniture as the downstairs rooms he’d seen. As they reached the last door, Danae stopped and looked back at him. He gave her a nod, and she sprang around the doorway, gun leveled.

He was only a millisecond behind her, but his expertly executed timing was useless. This time, it was clear the room was empty, even with only the dim lighting from the entry to illuminate it. Purcell’s office, he thought, as he stepped inside. A huge ornate desk stood in the center of the room, a massive chair with faded, cracked leather positioned behind it. The walls were completely covered with bookcases that were overflowing with books and paper. Plastic containers, also filled with paper, littered most of the floor, leaving only a narrow pathway behind the desk and to the far corner.

“That’s the entry to the master bedroom,” Danae whispered and pointed to the corner where the path ended.