Текст книги "Stranger on the Shore "

Автор книги: Josh lanyon

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cool sweet oxygen filling his nostrils, filling his lungs.

Griff dragged in a deep breath. His eyes snapped open. The vise around his throat was gone. The mountain sitting on his chest had moved—and was groaning in a pile of rubble next to him.

“You all right?” a gruff voice asked.

Griff peered up. A burly figure stood over him holding a shovel. Nels Newland.

Griff nodded, pushed to his feet and nearly toppled over again. Weaving, he stared down at Ring who was muttering to himself. Blood trickled down the side of Ring’s face into his beard.

“I guess you do annoy some people,” Newland commented.

Griff turned to him. “I guess I do.” He took a couple of steps back and his legs seemed to give way. He sat down in the wet grass.

Newland frowned down at him.

Griff stared up. A thought occurred. “May Chung told me to ask you...”

“Ask me what?”

Griff shook his head. What the hell did any of it matter now?

Newland’s craggy face twitched in annoyance. “Oh, I know what she’s thinking,” he said.

Ring rolled over and began to crawl on his belly toward the stairs. Newland raised his shovel again, as though about to squash a slug. But there was no need. Suddenly cops were pouring in from every direction. Two burly uniformed men scrambled down the stairs. A couple of young, energetic types jumped from the wall surrounding the garden—only to discover that it was a longer drop than they’d realized.

Newland watched the air dance performance and made a derisive sound. He turned back to Griff. “I’ll tell you what May Chung is afraid of. She’s afraid you’re going to write something bad about her father because he was the one who hired Johnson. Well, I’ll tell you the truth. I did know Johnson before. I met him at the racetrack and he seemed like an okay fella. How was I to know he’d driven the getaway car in an armed robbery? I did recommend him to Tuppalo. And he did know how to drive. He was a hell of a driver. How was I supposed to know about the rest of it? Of course I didn’t know!”

The biggest and burliest of the cops approached Griff, keeping a wary eye on Newland and his trusty shovel. “Are you all right, Mr. Arlington?” he asked.

* * *

Pierce did not show up while Griff spoke to the police. He had been instrumental in getting the cops to locate Griff. He had been instrumental in pointing the investigation toward Ring Shelton. Shelton’s Hell’s Kitchen restaurants were in financial hot water—boiling hot water—and “Brian’s” resurfacing and Jarrett’s decision to reinstate the original will had been the worst possible news at the worst possible time.

Unfortunately Griff’s appearance had probably exacerbated the situation. All that discussion of murder and mystery had planted an idea in a brain that was already receptive to the notion of violent solutions.

Detective Patrick apologetically explained it all to Griff. Apologetic because Pierce had already shared his anticipation of the results of Griff’s DNA test with law enforcement, and Griff—Brian—was being treated with kid gloves. Yes, everyone was being very careful with Griff. In fact, they were handling him like a time bomb that was ready to go off any second.

The weird part was that as angry as Griff was with Pierce—with his highhandedness, with his arrogance, with his interfering—what really hurt was that Pierce didn’t come when he needed him.

He didn’t come during all the time that Griff talked to the police. Hours. Hours of talking to the police. Of telling them everything he knew. Not just about his investigation into Brian’s disappearance, which now seemed pitifully, ridiculously little. He talked about his mother, about growing up in Janesville, he talked until his voice was so hoarse he was whispering.

Where was Pierce?

Why didn’t Pierce come to him?

Griff listened to Detective Patrick explain everything. About how in the end it was really just about money. Just like his mother—no, Amy Truscott—had said. Ring had wanted, needed Brian dead because Brian stood in the way of financial salvation.

They all needed money.

No. Not true. Muriel didn’t need money. But she wanted it. She felt the estate was due her because she was Jarrett’s oldest child. It wasn’t just that though. She wanted back the child she had given away because, unlike her sister, she didn’t have the nerve to have a baby out of wedlock. She wanted her son back and she wanted to be paid for the time she had done without him.

Marcus needed money. But Marcus didn’t really care about money. Marcus hadn’t really cared about money or anything else since his brother and sister-in-law had gone down in a Whitewater Yacht ten years ago.

Michaela needed money too, but she hadn’t realized it. Hadn’t realized her husband was siphoning off her trust fund to keep his restaurants afloat. And she didn’t care. Now she needed money for Ring’s bail. And with Jarrett out of commission that was ultimately up to Pierce.

Pierce, who wasn’t answering phone calls from the Arlingtons. Any of the Arlingtons. Who still didn’t show up even after Griff went to the hospital to see Jarrett.

That was the only good part of the day—not counting the early morning when he had woken in Pierce’s arms and felt Pierce’s smile against his mouth, felt Pierce’s arms locked around him as though Pierce would never let him go.

There were tears in Jarrett’s eyes, but there was a new spark of life too. “I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew it the minute I saw you.” His skin was warm and he gripped Griff’s hand with increased energy.

Griff nodded. But of course Jarrett hadn’t known. Jarrett had threatened to destroy him on behalf of Leland. He had done it in the nicest possible way, but he had done it nonetheless.

But maybe Griff was being too harsh. Maybe Griff wasn’t giving enough credence to guilt, to family loyalty, to the need to make amends. He was fond of Jarrett. There was a part of him that wanted to believe Jarrett. He gripped the old man’s hands and smiled at him, and when Jarrett pulled him down, he hugged him, careful of the wires and the hardware and the IVs.

Jarrett whispered, “Welcome home, my boy,” and Griff had to close his eyes tight because yes, he wanted to believe that.

Badly.

When he left the hospital, he got in his car and started driving. He got as far as Roslyn Heights. And then he pulled into the driveway of a Persian restaurant and spent the next half hour counting the raindrops on his windshield. Not the best weather for a long drive. Especially when he was this tired and distracted.

It was already after four o’clock in the afternoon. The day was...he really couldn’t think about the day he’d had.

He didn’t know where to go. Should he get a room in a hotel? Should he just keep driving?

He felt so...disconnected.

His phone rang a couple of times and he ignored it. Then he realized that it might be Pierce. He found his phone and it rang again. Pierce’s number flashed up.

“Hello?” he said cautiously.

“Where are you?” Pierce sounded so normal, so ordinary, that Griff found himself clutching the phone like a lifeline. “Griff?”

Griff peered through his rain-spattered windshield and read the name of the restaurant sign to Pierce.

“Okay. I’m coming to get you,” Pierce said.

He sounded perfectly calm, and something panicked and angry inside Griff quieted. He said, “I’m going to go inside and have something to eat.”

“That’s a good idea,” Pierce said. And then, “I’m on my way.”

I’m on my way. Pierce had said that to him once before. When Griff had woken in the middle of nowhere—which was a bit how he felt now.

He went inside the restaurant and had soup. It was hot and spicy with flat noodles, and he felt a lot better after the first few swallows. He ordered a beer called Pars Persian Style, which was all right. An amber lager with a hint of bitterness. He was swallowing the last mouthful when Pierce walked in the door.

Griff’s heart jumped. Was there ever a time his heart would not leap at the sight of Pierce? It was really just sad, wasn’t it? Could you really fall in love with someone at first sight?

Pierce, tall and handsome in his rain-spotted trench coat, made his way across the mostly empty restaurant and sat down across the linen-covered table. He carried the scent of the rain and that familiar spicy cologne. His eyes were the shade of bitter ale in his very pale face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Pierce’s eyes flickered. He said, “You talked to Jarrett?”

“Yeah.”

Of course Pierce already knew that. Pierce knew everything. No need for Pierce to look that way, so worried and grave. Like he’d failed to adequately prepare his case for trial. “He’s going to recover. He’s still good for years.”

“That’s great.” Griff added, “I don’t want him changing his will. I don’t want that money.”

“Nobody will do anything you don’t want.”

Griff snorted. “Really? That will be a first.”

Pierce winced. “Bri—”

“Don’t.” Griff shook his head. “I can’t—I’m not ready to be Brian yet.”

“All right.” Pierce was using that gentle tone again. His gaze was intent, never leaving Griff’s face.

“It’s too much all at once.”

“I know.”

“No,” Griff said. “You don’t.”

Pierce let out a breath. “No, I don’t. But I understand that it’s a lot to work through. I understand that it’s going to take you some time. And that’s okay. You’ve got time.”

“I feel like there’s this pressure for me to be Brian, and I don’t even know who Brian is.”

“That’s going to be up to you.”

“Yeah.” Griff nodded, not looking at Pierce. He said, “I’m going to go back to Wisconsin.” He did look at Pierce then, waiting to see how Pierce took it.

A muscle moved in Pierce’s cheek. He said, “Griff, the only thing people really want is for you to be happy.”

Well, that was a nice thought, but they both knew that wasn’t exactly true. Partly true, sure.

“I think that money should be split up like Jarrett planned and then eventually the house can be opened to the public or turned into a library or something.”

Pierce nodded. He seemed to consider and discard a number of replies before he said neutrally, “You better wait to break that news to Jarrett.”

Griff nodded too.

The waiter approached them and asked if they wanted anything more.

“I think that’s everything,” Griff said.

Pierce said nothing, not a word, as Griff paid the bill. They walked out to the parking lot. It was raining hard now. The drops hitting the asphalt were as hard and shiny as ball bearings. They stung Griff’s face, his eyes. Or maybe that was something else stinging his eyes.

“Griff.”

“Goodbye, Pierce.” He had to force himself to meet Pierce’s eyes. And it was a shock because Pierce was struggling to keep his mouth steady. His eyes were wet—though maybe that was the rain again.

“Griff.”

Griff turned away and walked to his car. Pierce walked with him, which was somewhat anticlimactic. Griff tried to get his key in the door lock and Pierce put his hand over his.

Pierce said, “I love you.”

Griff looked up, glaring. “No you don’t. You lied to me. Like everybody else.” Now he didn’t care that the tears were coming, coming fast, mingling with the rain. “You lied to me and you tricked me and you used me. Like everyone else.”

He should have fought when Pierce pulled him into his arms. He should have punched him in his arrogant, aristocratic nose. But he let Pierce wrap his arms around him. He leaned into Pierce, and he cried.

“I do love you,” Pierce said. His breath was warm and the whispered words were rock steady. “You know I love you. I’ve loved you your entire life. Since you were an annoying little twerp. And I’ve been in love with you for the past week.” His arms fastened tighter around Griff’s shoulders. “And I know you love me.”

Griff shook his head denying this, but who was he kidding? Of course he loved Pierce. He really had loved Pierce his entire life.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Pierce said. His voice got choky as he said, “I’m sorry I let you down again.”

Again. No. That was Pierce feeling guilty about the past, and if they were going to build any kind of future, they had to put that behind them once and for all.

Griff shook his head. “No. Don’t.” He raised his head.

Pierce’s face twisted. “If I could undo any part of it—”

“I know.” He did know. And now he was the one comforting Pierce. Which actually helped a little.

They held each other while the rain came down in sheets, and finally Pierce looked up as though he’d only noticed they were being drowned. He scrubbed his face, kissed Griff’s mouth, and said, “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Later, much later, when they were warm and dry and comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms, cocooned in the vast and as yet mostly uncharted latitude and longitude of Pierce’s bed, Pierce asked, “How much do you remember?”

“It’s coming back. In bits and pieces.” Maybe he had begun to remember that very first day. So many things had unsettled him. He really had feared he was losing his mind. He couldn’t help a wrench of anguish when he thought of the years, years he had believed he was too small for his age, too slow, too immature. If he wasn’t crazy it was a miracle.

He didn’t say a word and yet somehow Pierce seemed to know. He kissed his mouth, rubbed his face against Griff’s, kissed him again.

“It’s going to take time, that’s all.”

Griff nodded.

“No one’s going to push you. No one’s going to pressure you.” Pierce sounded a little grim, talking to himself, preparing for future battles, and Griff settled his head more comfortably on Pierce’s chest and left him to it.

Pierce suddenly laughed. Griff, on the verge of sleep, stirred and smiled. “Mmm?”

Pierce kissed the top of his head.

“What’s funny?”

There was still a quiver of a laugh in Pierce’s voice as he said, “I just want to be there to see your expression the first time you see your new tax bill.”

Griff’s eyes opened. “I hope you are there,” he said.

Pierce said, “I plan to be.”

* * * * *

Find out if attraction is enough to keep two lovers together in this male/male contemporary romance—available now!

Lone Star

Growing up in rural Texas, Mitchell Evan’s ambition to be a dancer made him a target. Though he found success in New York City, Mitch is at a crossroads, and heads home for the first time in twelve years to figure things out. When what appears to be a reindeer jumps out in front of his car, he drives off the road and into the path of the one man he hoped to avoid.

The last person Texas Ranger Web Eisley expects to see four days before Christmas is his first love. He hasn’t seen Mitch since they quarreled over coming out to their friends and family years ago. Though he’s not in the closet now, Web has worked hard for the respect of his fellow officers, but he still regrets the loss of Mitch in his life. And his bed.

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About the Author

Frequently described as “the gateway drug” for readers new to male/male romance, bestselling and multi-award-winning Josh Lanyon is the author of over fifty titles of mystery, adventure, fantasy and romance. Josh is the author of the critically acclaimed Adrien English Mysteries series, including The Hell You Say, winner of the 2006 USABookNews award for GLBT Fiction. Josh is an Eppie Award winner and a three-time Lambda Literary Award finalist. When not writing—which is pretty much never!—Josh enjoys mucking around in the garden, film noir, fine wine, vintage mysteries and night swimming.

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ISBN-13: 9781426898327

STRANGER ON THE SHORE

Copyright © 2014 Josh Lanyon

Edited by Deborah Nemeth

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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