Heir to Murder. Elle James
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“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