Heir to Murder

Noah shook off the strange feeling and counted it as an overactive imagination. Not everyone in the world had huge secrets, hidden agendas and nefarious motives.

A buzzing sound caught his attention and he found a cell phone on the table beside the sofa. It looked exactly like his so he lifted it and read the writing on the display screen.

It was a text from his half sister, Landry.

Are you going to tell him before or after dinner?

Noah stared at the phone. Tell him what? was the first thought in his head. The second being, Tell who what? Perhaps she had the wrong number. He was about to respond to her text telling her that when another text flashed onto the screen.

Remember to tell Noah it was my idea and not to blame you.

Confused, he stared down at the phone. It looked like his with the same black protective case and the same make and model. Then he remembered he’d left his phone in his truck. This phone probably belonged to Rachel.

As he came to that conclusion, the meaning of the words made more sense. Landry was asking Rachel if she’d told him something. Obviously it was something that he might not like, if she was looking to take the blame for it.

Now the phone had his full attention. Like a sleepwalker, he couldn’t stop himself. He held the phone in both hands and slowly keyed, What should I tell him?

He knew it was wrong and that he was violating Rachel’s privacy by reading her text messages, but after all the lies he’d been told and all the secrets he hadn’t been a party to until now, he had a sinking feeling in his gut that this was going to be another one to add to the mounting list.

What could Rachel and Landry have done that was so bad he’d get mad? He’d always thought of Rachel as someone he could trust, someone who wasn’t a member of the family, who didn’t have a stake in Reginald’s will.

He almost set the phone aside, not wanting to have his faith in Rachel shattered. As he moved his hand to do that, another text popped up on the screen.

Be straightforward. Tell him about spying on him and why we did it.

A lead weight settled in the pit of Noah’s belly.

Chapter 4

Dressed now in the soft lemon-yellow sundress and feeling more in control of her thoughts and her body, Rachel stepped out of the bedroom, a smile curving her lips. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Noah had his back to her and seemed to be staring down at something in his hand, his body stiff and unbending.

“Noah?” A cold sensation trickled down her spine as she crossed the room to where he stood and touched his arm.

He jerked away.

Her heart pinched in her chest. “Is something wrong?”

“I thought it was mine.” Turning, he held out a cell phone. “But it wasn’t. Landry texted you.” He stared straight into her eyes.

Rachel could feel the blood leaving her face. She didn’t have to look down at the phone to get the gist of what he’d discovered. “I was going to tell you tonight.”

“Before or after we made love?” he asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, but the anger behind it as hard and as sharp as a steel-edged knife.

“Before. But—”

Noah held up a hand. “Save it. I need to go back to where I belong.” He snorted. “Trouble is that I don’t know where I belong anymore. I don’t think there is a soul in this world I can trust.”

“Please, Noah. I can explain.”

“What’s to explain? You were spying on me.” He jammed his shirt into the waistband of his jeans and buckled his belt. “You did a good job of fooling me. You’re a good actress, Rachel. And I suppose you always knew how to ride a horse. And you were probably acting when you pretended to like me.”

“No. I mean yes, about the riding, but no, I really do like you.”

“You and Landry must have had a really good laugh about me.” He bent to grab his wallet from the floor.

“No, Noah, it wasn’t like that.” Once again, she touched his arm. “It started out as a favor. But my feelings changed. I got to know you. You’re kind, gentle and patient and I could see what a good person you are, and I genuinely like you.”

This time, when he jerked his arm away, his lip curled back in contempt. “The sad thing is that I really want to believe you.”

“You can. Just give me another chance.”

“No. I’m done playing games with you and the Adairs. I may be related by blood, but I’m not like them and have no desire to be like them. And I guarantee, I won’t let my guard down ever again.” Noah reached the door, yanked it open and marched out.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Rachel called out, her voice trailing off on a sob as Noah slammed the door behind him.

The phone in her hand buzzed and she looked down at it through a wash of tears.

Did you get my last text?

Rachel sank to the floor, tears trickling down her cheeks as she read through the messages. It couldn’t have been worse timing. After several minutes, she texted Landry— He knows.

And?

Rachel stared at the word and couldn’t move her hands to respond.

More tears escaped.

Landry’s ringtone sang out and Rachel nearly dropped the phone. When she finally held it steady, she pressed the talk button and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Rachel, honey, are you okay?” The sound of her friend’s voice only made the tears flow heavier. “Sweetie, are you there?”

She swallowed her sob and croaked, “I’m here.”

“He didn’t take it well, did he?”

“No. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. Is that normal?”

“Oh, baby, you’ve got it bad.”

“I know.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue in the box on an end table. “I wasn’t supposed to care. He was just the interloper.”

“But you do.”

“Yeah.” She dabbed at her puffy eyes. “I do, and he’s part of your family now.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No. I’ll be all right. No one ever died of a broken heart.” She laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. “I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t sound okay. I’m coming over,” Landry insisted.

“No, that’s not necessary. I really can’t stay here.” Rachel lurched to her feet, too upset to be alone. “Do you mind if I come over to your place?”

“Not at all. Come. Stay the night. We can crack open a bottle of wine. I could call Georgia over and maybe we can put our heads together and finalize Elizabeth’s baby shower. That might take your mind off Noah.”

Rachel doubted it. Baby talk would only make her want to be with Noah even more. She could picture sandy-haired, blue-eyed little boys with those cute little clefts in their chins. She had to stop thinking that way. It would never happen now. “Let’s keep it just you and me, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Wait.” Rachel stopped on her way to her bedroom. “What will Derek think about giving you up for a night?”

“Don’t you worry about him,” Landry said. “I love that man like no other, but he can live without me for a night. He’ll understand. You’ve always been there for me. It’s my turn.”

Rachel glanced around the town house. There was nothing holding her there. No reason to stay and plenty of reasons to leave. “I’m on my way. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

“Are you sure you’re up to driving?” Landry asked. “I could come get you?”

“No. I’ll manage.” Rachel ended the call and stood in the middle of the living room trying to think through her next step. She wanted to go to Landry’s place. Staying in the room where she and Noah had shared their passion just made her want to cry. She had to get away.

Grabbing her purse, she slung the strap over her shoulder, dug her car keys out of the bottom and headed for the door. She was halfway outside when she remembered she hadn’t put on any shoes. Back in the town house, she dug out a pair of sandals and headed out the door, locking it behind her.

Night had settled in around San Diego and streetlights shone out over the city below. From her hillside townhome, Rachel could see much of the city and the harbor below dotted in lights.

She climbed into her car and pulled down her driveway, blinking through the tears welling up yet again. She never cried this much. And never over a man. She’d learned long ago not to fall in love. Hadn’t her mother taught her that?

Rachel’s multibillionaire father had cheated on her mother more often than either her mother or Rachel knew about. When her mother finally decided enough was enough, she’d filed for divorce.

Rachel’s father had the lawyers, the sleazy private investigators who’d lie for a case of beer and the financial backing to smear her mother through the sludge at the bottom of the San Diego Bay. He’d even tried to turn Rachel against her mother.

When the divorce was final and the dust had settled, Rachel’s mother had bought a small vineyard on the edge of San Diego and retired from the social circles and the people she’d thought were her friends. She’d since passed away and left Rachel the vineyard and a nice little nest egg.

Not that she needed it. Her father had had a massive heart attack while making love to a woman half his age. He’d left her his entire fortune and the job of managing the charities her mother had set up.

Rachel teetered on the edge of society, using her social status to help in her efforts to raise money for the charities near and dear to hers and her mother’s hearts, especially for the navy SEALs and the families of those men who gave so much for their country. Helping them was her way of giving back what her father never could.

Soured on men, she’d agreed to spy on Noah, not knowing what she knew now.

He was a genuinely good man. The kind of man a woman could trust not to cheat on her or lie. Unfortunately, she’d done what she despised in others. She’d lied to him about her real reason for hanging around him. What had started out as an effort to help her friend had become more complicated the more Rachel got to know Noah.

Her breath caught on a sob and she forced it down as she drove to the end of her driveway. When Rachel reached the road, she couldn’t pull out on the street. A large dark sedan parked in front of her driveway, blocking her exit.

Already upset about the events of the evening, she didn’t feel like confronting the driver, or anyone for that matter. The interior of the vehicle was dark, but she could see the shadowy shape of someone inside.

Rachel honked her horn. The vehicle remained where it was. Not a light came on inside or out.

Anger shifted to concern. Was the driver injured or unconscious? Was that why he wasn’t moving?

Pushing her own heartache aside, Rachel unclipped her seat belt and climbed out of her Jeep. “Hello!” she called out loudly enough to be heard by the driver inside the car.

The person didn’t move and the interior remained too dark to make out the face to see if his eyes were opened or closed.

Rachel edged toward the vehicle. If this was a ruse to get her out of her car to abduct her, she didn’t want to get too close. But she had to get close enough to tell whether or not the driver was in physical distress.

As she neared the front fender, the engine roared to life and the car shifted into Reverse, backing up so fast the tires squealed, leaving a thin layer of rubber on the pavement.

Alarmed, Rachel backed a step up onto the driveway. She was partly relieved the car had moved, even though the movement was odd. Why would a person wait until she’d almost reached the car before he revved the engine and backed out of the way?

Convinced the driver was on drugs or drunk, Rachel glanced over her shoulder at her Jeep.

The squeal of rubber on asphalt made her turn back to the big sedan. It screeched to a halt and the headlights flashed on, the high beams blinding her.

Raising her hand to block the light, she backed another step up the driveway.

The engine revved again and tires spun on the pavement, the vehicle rocketing forward.

Stunned, Rachel froze as the heavy sedan barreled straight for her. When the car bumped up over the curb, slamming metal against concrete, Rachel finally snapped out of it, but too late to avoid impact.

She knew it was going to hit her—all she could do was minimize the impact. As she’d seen done in the movies by trained stuntmen, she slammed her hands on the hood of the vehicle and swung her legs up and to the side like a gymnast on a vault. She slid across the hood, smacked into the glass and rolled off to the side, landing flat on her back. Her head bounced on the concrete.

Pain flashed through her and the streetlight on the corner blinked out.

* * *

Noah headed for Adair Acres, the only home he knew. He drove through the gate, past the guesthouse and straight for the stable. At least the horses weren’t deceitful and out to question his every move. They could care less how much money he had or how he planned to spend it. All they wanted was to be treated with respect and be fed regularly. Why couldn’t life be that simple?

The last person he could count on had just proved to him that he couldn’t trust anyone at all. He shoved the gearshift into Park, climbed down from his truck and strode into the stable.

Diablo nickered from his stall, pawing at the door for attention.

Noah grabbed a brush from the tack room and led the stallion out of his stall, tying his lead to a post. Then he brushed the horse from nose to tail, one long, smooth stroke at a time.

At first Diablo tossed his head and stamped his hooves. Either he was able to sense Noah’s unrest and it made him uneasy, as well, or he was impatient for another ride out across the fields, the wind in his mane.

Forcing himself to slow down and take it easy, Noah soothed the horse and continued brushing with calmer motions until the stallion stood steady, accepting the attention.

When he was done, he stroked the horse’s velvety soft nose. “I trust you more than any of the Adairs, and you threw me this morning.”

Diablo nickered, almost as if chuckling at his accomplishment in unseating Noah.

“Yeah. I deserved it. I was pushing you too hard when it was my own problem.” Noah sighed. “The question is what should I do?”

“If you’re waiting for the horse to answer, you might be waiting awhile.” Carson Adair, with his light brown hair cropped short and military bearing from years in the Marine Corps, stood ramrod straight, his arms crossed over his chest in the open doorway to the stable.

“He’s the only one who makes sense.”

Carson’s lips twisted and he nodded. “You have a point. Things have been insane around here.” Carson’s eyes narrowed, his brows drawing together. “Landry tells me you talked with Rachel.”

Noah grabbed the horse’s lead, walked him back to his stall and settled him in. “Are there any more spies I should be aware of? Hell, if you’d just asked, I’d have told you everything I know. Even as cousins, I thought we were family.”

“Like you, we don’t know who to trust. They still haven’t caught our father’s killer.”

Noah stepped back as if he’d been slapped. “Good Lord. Did you think I’d done it?” Noah closed and secured the stall door before facing Carson. “Should I add ‘potential murderer’ to the title of ‘gold-digging secret son’ as a caption on my dossier?”

“He was your father, too.”

“It takes more than a sperm donation to be a father.”

Carson snorted. “Tell me about it. Reginald Adair was too busy looking for you to be much of a father to the rest of his children.”

“At least you had each other.” Noah carried the brush into the tack room.

“He might not have been much of a father to us, but he left a significant chunk of his estate to a son no one seemed to be able to find. When Georgia suggested you might be that missing son, naturally, we thought you might have ulterior motives.”

“Naturally.” Noah snorted. “Like I might have ingratiated myself with the family in order to knock off the old man?”

“Think about it. Our father is shot to death and you came back to Adair Acres. The will was read and then Georgia pointed out how much you looked like her stepmother. The pieces all fell into a strange place. What would you have done if you were us?”

Noah let Carson’s words flow over him and settle into the crevices of his mind before answering. “I would have asked me what the hell I was up to.”

Diablo nickered and tossed his head over the top of the stall’s gate.

With Carson’s explanation making more sense than he liked, Noah needed to keep moving. He walked to the stack of hay on one end of the stable, broke off a couple sections of one bale and carried it back to Diablo’s stall, dropping it into the manger.

Noah dusted the hay from his hands and shirt. “Did you really think I could have killed your father?”

“Not once we heard your alibi, but you could have hired someone to do him in.”

The irony of the situation was not lost on Noah. Reginald’s kids had such mixed feelings about losing their father. He’d barely given them much thought, his entire focus spent on finding his missing son—an obsession he couldn’t shake for thirty-seven years.

The older Adair’s murder had hit Noah harder. Reginald had welcomed him to come work at the ranch. He’d been his only male role model Noah’s entire life. He used to imagine being part of the larger Adair family. Whit, Carson and Landry may not have been close to Reginald, but they cared about one another and made it clear they’d do anything for their siblings.

“Look, you have a right to be angry with us. We shouldn’t have spied on you, but we wanted to protect each other and our heritage. Don’t blame Rachel. Landry talked her into doing it. If you don’t believe me, ask Landry.”

Noah didn’t want to believe Carson, but the sincerity of the former Marine was hard to dispute. He’d always respected the man and now was no different.

“It’s like I told Rachel,” Noah said. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“I don’t blame you. We still haven’t found Dad’s killer. It could be anyone. We’re all struggling to figure this out.”

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