The Second Sister

“Hell, yes,” he said grimly. “Open your eyes and look at me!”

“Stop swearing!” She blinked open blurry eyes, battling the residual haze shrouding her brain. Gavin was holding her down. She tried to remember why that was all wrong.

“That’s it, fight back.” One hand let her go. Her head lolled to the side. It was so hard to keep her eyes open. His hand slid beneath the tangle of her hair, cupping the back of her head. The tingling sensations were starting all over. There was something incredibly sensual in the touch of that large hand against her scalp.

“Sit up, come on. That’s it. Open your eyes, Leigh.”

She struggled to obey. He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. “Fantasy man,” she whispered.

Gavin cursed. “We’ll see how you feel about that tomorrow. Here, swallow this.”

A bottle of liquid was thrust to her lips. It clicked against her teeth, but he gave her no chance to protest. Warm water dribbled down her chin, but some of the fluid made it down her parched throat. The water had a chemical taste, like bottled water that had been sitting in a hot car too long. She choked. Her stomach roiled in protest. Feebly, she tried to push aside his hand.

“Drink some more.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“That’s the idea. We need to get that drug out of your system.”

To her acute mortification, he held her while her stomach made good on the threat. He continued holding her gently even after she was reduced to dry heaves. Almost tenderly, he pulled aside the heavy mass of her hair and rubbed her bare back as if she were a child.

Weak and spent, she let him. Desperately, her brain tried to make sense of it all.

“Take another sip.”

“I’ll throw up again.”

“Swish it around in your mouth and spit it out. Don’t swallow it. I know it’s warm, but it’s the only water I have with me.”

She obeyed, totally ashamed as memory played back the things they’d done. He let her go and fished in his pocket. She heard the crinkle of paper as Gavin unwrapped something and handed it to her.

“It’s okay. It’s a peppermint hard candy. It will take the taste out of your mouth.”

His expression was so sweet she wanted to cry. The candy had an odd taste on her tongue.

“Think you can get back on the bike?”

“Bike?”

Memory trickled past. A wild ride. Wanton need. Her breasts were bare, the nipples hard, but tender and sore. The rest of her body was equally bare. Moonlight peered through the trees overhead to dapple her skin. She focused on his face, horror growing as images ghosted through her mind.

“Did we…? Were we…?”

His features hardened, making her flinch.

“Were we intimate? Oh, yeah, baby. We were as intimate as it gets.”

His finger lightly traced her collarbone. She had a memory of his lips doing the same. Leigh trembled—hard.

“How much do you remember?”

The knot that formed in her stomach threatened to turn her inside out.

“I don’t… I’m not sure.”

Lifting her chin, Gavin forced her to meet his eyes.

“Tell me you weren’t a virgin.”

She lost the battle with her stomach once more. He turned her head in time as her insides twisted in an attempt to escape. Dry heaves wracked her. Gavin swore, but he held her until she finally sagged against his chest, utterly spent. His shirt smelled of cigarette smoke and fabric softener. That he was fully dressed while she was naked made it all the worse somehow. His hands were gentle as he wiped her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

She tried, but her fingers were useless. He skipped the bra and panties and helped her with her sister’s blouse.

“Can you stand?”

She wasn’t sure. Gavin didn’t give her a choice. Her body still vibrated in reaction to his touch as he slid the jeans back up her legs. Her stomach fluttered helplessly at the feel of his fingers trying to fasten the snap. She stepped into her brand-new deck shoes while he held her so that she didn’t fall over. Tugging her toward the large black motorcycle, he lifted her up, settling her in place.

“Hold on to me.”

A flashback of her hands roaming his bare skin hit her with electric force. Leigh closed her eyes, fighting tears of shame. She didn’t open them until the bike stopped. Helplessly, she gazed at the dark building of Wickert’s garage.

“What are we doing here?”

“I have a key and I know the alarm system. I thought you’d want to clean up before I took you home.”

Home. She had no home. Not anymore. Only an empty house where people waited without hope.

Her stomach knotted. She wanted to cry. His features were harsh. She swallowed her tears, feeling mortified and ashamed.

She barely recognized herself in the mirror of the ladies’ room. Her hair hung about her face in tangled strands. Her eyes were huge dark pits against the ghostly white pallor of her skin. Streaks of mascara gave her a raccoon appearance, and there was more than one dark bruise forming on the skin of her neck. Leigh remembered his mouth there and whimpered. The temperature could have been below freezing instead of the high seventies she knew it to be even at this hour of the night.

Holding the comb he’d thrust into her hand after unlocking the door, she sank onto the dirty tile floor and sobbed until there were no tears left. Shame paralyzed her. How could she go back out there and face him?

He claimed she’d been drugged, but that didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that she’d had a crush on him since she was fifteen. What mattered was that she’d given her virginity to a man who couldn’t even tell her apart from her sister.

Given? She’d practically demanded that he take her.

And that was more demeaning than all the rest.

His knock on the door brought her scrambling to her feet. She brushed at her tear-stained face.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Yes.” It came out as a croak of sound. Her voice was thick from crying. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you need anything?”

Her mother. She would have given anything she possessed to have her mother here beside her right this minute.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she repeated.

Leigh waited until she heard him move away from the door. Splashing water on her face, she used the rough paper towels to rub fiercely at her face, trying to remove all traces of her smeared makeup. Her sister’s blouse was buttoned all wrong and her fingers still didn’t want to cooperate, but finally, she managed that small task. Trying to tame her hair with his comb proved impossible.

She tried not to think about the marks on her skin or the puffy appearance of her lips, or the strange, small ache between her legs and elsewhere. She could smell him on her skin, and still feel him pulsing inside her. And the shaking started again in earnest, because she still wanted him. It was all she could do to pull herself together and exit the ladies’ room.

Gavin came away from the dirty wall with a primitive grace she still found compelling. Worse, a part of her longed for him to pull her into his arms and hold her. She needed to hear that things were going to be okay, that he wasn’t disgusted with her. But he made no move to touch her and his stern expression was angry.

With her?

“Come into the office. I made some tea.”

“Tea?” There was a surreal feel to everything.

“Mrs. Walken claims tea with sugar is good for shock. I suspect we both need a cup. Besides, the coffeemaker’s broken again, so it’s tea or soda.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it anyway.”

She was so cold inside, she didn’t think even a gallon of hot tea would help. She’d probably just embarrass herself further by vomiting it right back up. Leigh looked quickly away from the cookies he’d bought from the vending machine.

“Try to eat one. We need to give your system something to absorb besides the drug.”

A protest formed in her head, but she blocked the words before they could slip past. Sipping tea and nibbling on a cookie gave her something to do, a focus other than looking at him.

“What were you doing at that party?”

Leigh cringed. “I went with Nolan.”

“Ducort?” he asked in obvious disbelief. “What’s a kid like you doing with a creep like that?”

Forcing herself to meet his eyes she said simply, “He asked me out.”

Gavin muttered something under his breath. A pulse in his neck began to throb. He looked as if he wanted to hit someone. She cringed. Instantly, his features transformed, softening.

“Listen to me, Leigh, I’m sorrier than I can say about what happened. I swear I didn’t recognize you at first or I would have taken you straight home.”

She swallowed the hurt, refusing to cry in front of him. The old desk chair she’d sat down on squeaked in protest. “Thanks a lot,” she managed to say.

Gavin didn’t seem to hear her. “You are not to blame. Do you understa—”

Leigh stood so fast that the cookies scattered across the desktop. “Don’t you dare patronize me. I’m not twelve.”

“At least tell me I didn’t seduce a minor.”

“It was consensual sex, not seduction,” she told him, shaking from head to toe.

“You were drugged,” he said bluntly. “And you were a virgin.”

“Well, I don’t have to worry about that problem anymore, now, do I?”

Headlights bathed the interior of the gas station. A car was pulling up out front.

“Your sister’s here.”

Horrified, she stared at him. “You called my house?”

“No, I called the Walkens. I wanted advice before we go to the police.”

She gaped at him. “We aren’t going to the police!”

“You were drugged. Don’t you understand? Ducort slipped something in your drink. He intended to rape you. Only, I got to you first,” he added grimly.

For a second she thought she would pass out. Dimly, she heard him opening the door at her back.

“Bad luck for you, huh?” she spit at him. A clamoring anger filled her. “Well, don’t give it another thought. I sure don’t plan to. I’m not going to the police. But if either one of you ever comes near me again, I’ll make you rue the day you were born.”

Gavin stepped aside. Hayley and the Walkens stood in the doorway with mingled expressions of shock and concern. Leigh’s humiliation was complete.

Pivoting, she held her tears in check with fierce effort as she gazed at the man she had dreamed about for so long.

“I will never, ever forgive you for this.”

EIGHTEEN HOURS LATER, Gavin sat in jail contemplating his bruised knuckles and wondering why he’d felt obligated to play the hero. All he had to do was tell the police the truth—and ruin Leigh’s reputation completely.

Besides, what was the point? The cops thought they already knew the truth. An anonymous tip put his bike outside his employer’s house last night. The house had been burgled. Old man Wickert had been struck a couple of times, tied up, then left there to suffer a heart attack. If he died, the cops would add murder to the charge, and Gavin knew the police chief was just itching to do exactly that.

Gavin had been allowed one phone call. He’d used it to call George Walken. He’d elicited a reluctant promise from the man to keep Leigh out of this no matter what. He’d pointed out that telling the truth would only get him in deeper. The cops would claim Gavin had given her the drug and there was no point in dragging her name through the mud. He’d told George’s attorney, Ira Rosencroft, the same thing.

Gavin opened his eyes when his cell door suddenly clanged open. A fresh-faced officer not much older than he was took a step back and waited.

“Let’s go, Jarret.”

“Go where?”

“You need to sign for your things. You’re being released.”

“Why?”

“You like it here so much you want to stay?”

“Did Mr. Wickert regain consciousness?”

Hope filled him. The old man had been a demanding boss, as crotchety as a bear coming out of hibernation. He’d turned grumbling into an art form, but he’d given Gavin a job and a chance when no one else would, and over time, the two of them had come to like and respect each other.

The cop shook his head. “He died about an hour ago.”

“Damn.”

Their eyes met in shared sympathy. Gavin swallowed his grief. “So, why are you letting me go?”

“Your alibi came in. You know, you could have saved us all a lot of work if you’d just told us where you were last night.”

George had promised him! So had the attorney. Gavin scrawled his name on the paper he was handed and stuffed his nearly empty wallet into his back pocket. Livid that one of them had betrayed him, he started walking away. The interrogation-room door swung open.

The police chief stood in the doorway, glaring at a slim figure sitting on the hard wooden chair. She stared back with wide, unblinking eyes.

“You should reconsider,” Chief Crossley growled.

Leigh Thomas rose with the grace of a queen. Her long, golden-brown hair swung halfway down her back. She faced the man with a composure few could have matched.

“No, you should reconsider.” She spoke with quiet force. “I know you don’t like me and my sister, and you don’t like Gavin or the Walkens, but if you let that stand in your way, you won’t solve this murder, either. Gavin was with me last night, and I’ll swear to that in court. There is nothing you can say or do that will change that simple truth.”

She stared him in the eye without flinching. A slip of a girl really, yet she faced that six-foot-five-inch pompous ass with a dignity that shrunk him right down to size.

“You listen to me, girl. If we find one piece of evidence to link Jarret to that crime, I’ll have you up on an accessory to murder charge so fast it will make your head swim.”

“No. You won’t. You’d have to fabricate evidence, and you may be incompetent, but I don’t think you’re dishonest.”

“Get her out of here,” the chief snarled, turning dark angry red. Pivoting, he spied Gavin. “Get them both out of my sight,” he told the young cop standing silently to one side.

Gavin fell into pace beside Leigh. She wouldn’t look at him as they walked outside. Her chin was up, her shoulders back, and she stared straight ahead as she moved. She flinched when he touched her shoulder, and his gut tightened in pain.

“Why did you come here?” he demanded. “I told that lawyer and the Walkens to leave you out of this!”

“They don’t even know I’m here,” she told his shirtfront.

He needed to see her eyes, to know what she was thinking. Did she hate him for what had happened last night?

“Then, why come here today?”

She didn’t raise her head. “Because you were with me when the robbery happened.”

Gavin swore. “Precisely. There wasn’t any evidence against me, just some anonymous phone call. All I had to do was sit tight and they would have released me sooner or later. Don’t you realize what you’ve done to your reputation by coming here?”

That brought her pointed little chin up. She faced him squarely without a flicker of emotion.

“Enhanced it or ruined it depending on who you talk to.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Want to know how much I don’t care? If I hadn’t come forward, the police would have stopped looking for the real criminal, just like they stopped looking for my mother. Mr. Wickert was a nice old man. He deserves better. Now, take your hand off me before I kick you in the shins.”

Gavin dropped his hand, still trying to read her expression without success. “Are you okay? I mean after last night—”

“After last night, you owe me, right?”

Surprised, he managed a nod. Beyond her, he saw her sister running up the sidewalk toward them.

“If you owe me, then do us both a favor, Gavin. Grow up. Make something of yourself. That bad-boy reputation could have cost you a prison term just now. And you made Mrs. Walken cry. She deserves better, too.”

The words lashed him with their simple truth. “I thought you were supposed to be the quiet twin,” he muttered.

“Leigh!” Hayley called to her.

Leigh narrowed her eyes. “I am. Stick around. My sister will tear a strip off you that will make you wish you were back inside with Chief Crossley. As for last night, forget it, Gavin. I plan to.”

“You won’t forget,” he said softly as she turned to meet her sister. “And neither will I.”

Chapter Two

The present

Marcus Thomas had been murdered over the roses he’d so carefully tended. Shouldn’t she be able to summon some emotion other than relief? He’d been her father after all. Admittedly that had been a technicality as far as he’d been concerned, but it was biological fact, nonetheless.

Leigh Hart Thomas found herself standing slightly apart from the small group gathered under the hot summer sun. She wondered how the minister could find any kind words to eulogize a man like Marcus. She would have been unequal to the task. Even his widow, Eden, stood there without expression as the mercifully short service was concluded.

Eden’s son, Jacob Voxx, looked decidedly ill at ease at her side. Of course, it was broiling hot beneath the sun and he was dressed in a somber black suit and tie. One sleeve dangled uselessly at his side. Since his left arm had provided passage for one of the killer’s bullets, it was still in a sling to restrict its movement. That would be enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but Leigh suspected it was only part of the reason Jacob glanced once more to his left.

Leigh’s twin sister, Hayley, stood beside Bram Myers. His large, strong hand rested lightly—protectively—on her shoulder. Hayley looked incredibly good for someone who had twice nearly died at the same murderer’s hands.

Leigh decided it was hard not to feel a twinge of envy looking at the couple. She and her sister had always shared a special bond—that would never really change. But while Leigh had been in England visiting friends, her sister had forged a new bond—one Leigh couldn’t share.

Bram Myers was a large, rawboned man, handsome in a dark, intense sort of way. Ten years older than her sister, he might not think he wanted to marry again, but it was a foregone conclusion for everyone else. If there was ever a couple that belonged together, it was the two of them. Leigh wondered if Bram was aware that he maintained a subtle, physical contact with Hayley whenever they were together.

While Leigh envied her sister, she doubted she could ever open herself emotionally to another person so completely. Trust came a lot harder to her than it did to Hayley.

Restlessly, Leigh tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and decided she was definitely going to adopt her sister’s new, carefree hairstyle as soon as she could get into town to see the beautician. Not only was her current style hot and heavy in the summer heat and humidity, the shorter, sleeker look was a much better image for someone about to embark on a new dream job as a computer programmer for an exciting start-up company involved in the telecommunications industry.

As Hayley and Bram exchanged a private look, Leigh’s gaze skated to the couple standing slightly behind them. George and Emily Walken stood side by side. They had been family friends, and Heartskeep’s closest neighbors, since before Leigh had been born. The childless couple had always taken in troubled foster youths, and since her grandfather’s death and her mother’s disappearance, they’d taken in Hayley and Leigh as well.

When Marcus had been murdered, the couple had shielded them from the media. They’d run interference with the authorities, offered them a place to stay, and helped in every way they could. Leigh would never forget their kindness. Being around them was the next best thing to having her mother and grandfather back.

Off to one side, Odette Norwhich scowled darkly at everyone and no one. Eden had recently hired the woman as Heartskeep’s live-in housekeeper. While Leigh had only seen Mrs. Norwhich a few times since she’d been back, she’d concluded the woman always looked like that. Hayley assured her that Mrs. Norwhich actually had a softer side, but Leigh had yet to see one.

Leigh let her gaze travel around the circle to the other people who now walked forward to offer their condolences. Since the service had been private, there were blessedly few of them. She pasted a smile on her face and spoke briefly to each person, relieved when it was finally time to go. Marcus had been their father, in fact, but never in deed. And while he’d lived at Heartskeep as long as they had, he had never belonged there.

Leigh started to follow her sister and Bram, when a gust of chilled air swept her body. Except there wasn’t the faintest trace of a breeze. As she turned slowly, her gaze skipped over the abandoned coffin and the scattered grave sites surrounding it. A solitary figure stood several yards away. Her breath constricted painfully in her chest and her heart began to pound.

What was he doing here?

Riveted in place, she stared helplessly as memories ambushed her without mercy. It wasn’t fair. She’d dealt with these emotions years ago.

“Leigh? Is something wrong?” Hayley asked.

Everything. The mere sight of Gavin Jarret shouldn’t affect her so deeply after all these years.

“Leigh?”

She focused on Hayley’s hand, warm against the bare skin of her arm. Bram’s dark eyes mirrored her sister’s concern. Leigh managed to shake her head. Quickly, she sent her gaze to the coffin.

“I should be feeling something, shouldn’t I?” she asked, relieved that her voice sounded normal.

Hayley’s features tightened. She barely gave the coffin a glance. “Relief?”

After a second, Leigh nodded sadly. “He was still our father.”

“‘It takes more than a biological act to be a father’ isn’t just a saying, it’s a fact. You know as well as I do that the only thing Marcus loved was his roses. Come on, we need to get out of this heat.”

Leigh let her sister lead her away. When she cast a final look over her shoulder, Gavin was gone, but she glimpsed another figure darting between the headstones. Definitely not a mourner. Maybe a celebrant who’d come to make sure Marcus was really dead?

She chided herself for the nasty thought. More than likely, a photojournalist had been snapping pictures for some tabloid. The recent events at Heartskeep had made the Hart family headline news once more. Marcus would have hated that.

As far as Leigh was concerned, the media could print whatever they liked. Still, as they reached the car, she couldn’t prevent her gaze from sweeping the cemetery once more. Gavin was gone. She told herself she was relieved. He was the last person she wanted to talk with.

Was his presence the reason she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something bad was about to happen?

“YOU WILL HELP ME,” Martin Pepperton snarled. The horse at his back danced several steps sideways and snorted, reacting to his angry tone.

Nolan backed to the stall opening to give the large animal more space. He shot a quick glance around the empty barn, feeling dangerously exposed.

“This is no place for this discussion,” he told Martin, noting the too-wide pupils and the man’s sagging jowls. Martin Pepperton was Nolan’s age, but at twenty-nine, Martin was not aging with grace. The youngest member of the illustrious Pepperton family was beginning to show the effects of his years of substance abuse.

Martin sneered. “What’s the matter, Nolan? Afraid of a little horse? Panteena won’t hurt you. Will you, girl? You should put some money on her next time she runs.”

The high-strung animal stomped its hoof, jerking hard on the lead Martin held. Nolan had a strong urge to walk away and not look back. It was unfortunate that he was still tied to Martin with bonds only death would sever.

“I’ve got to get back to my group,” he told Martin. “The answer is no.”

“Remember old man Wickert?”

Nolan glanced wildly around again to make sure the barn was still empty. “Shut up, Martin. That was a long time ago, and it was an accident. The old man wasn’t supposed to die.”