In Too Deep Page 22

  The grounds were fenced, but she’d been given the entry remote control. As the wrought iron gate swung inward, she felt a sense of intoxicating relief. Safety. A new home. A new life.

  Rawley sprawled in the passenger seat, pretending not to look. He’d been an unbelievable pill the whole trip. When he spoke, it was just to remind her how wonderful Troy was, how awful she was for keeping the truth from him, and how unhappy he was to leave the Fergusons.

  His attitude certainly put a damper on the whole trip. Jenny, however, had a surprise for him when they arrived, something she’d worked out with the Fergusons and Hunter, and she hoped it might improve his outlook immensely. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Hunter’s Jeep was nowhere to be seen. Not that she’d expected it. He’d left about eight hours after her, as it turned out, following her out of town and then doubling back. Still, he was in her thoughts, and though she tried to pretend she didn’t care, the truth was she really did.

  She hadn’t seen a lot of him but just knowing he was around had helped ease her tension. Troy had stopped by twice, both times when Jenny was on an errand. Maybe he’d seen her leave. Maybe he’d seen Hunter’s Jeep and figured out she was being guarded. Whatever the case, Troy had checked in with Rawley, cementing his role as “daddy” and drawing Rawley further away from her. Troy now knew where she was going; Rawley wanted him to know everything. She prayed to God he would let them leave Houston without a last-minute showdown.

  Out of Rawley’s presence, Troy’s hidden agenda had appeared: he’d finally demanded money from Jenny’s dad. Allen was practically apoplectic. Though Jenny told him not to pay, Allen refused to listen and handed over a substantial amount of cash. Allen made the mistake of telling Rawley that his father was an extortionist, and Rawley had simply disengaged from the grandfather he hadn’t much liked anyway. Jenny was both exasperated and infuriated with her father, but Allen once again was unrepentant It was his way. He would never change.

  Allen also had a lot to say about Hunter. “He’s a burned-out ex-cop. I’m sorry I hired him. He’s just another opportunist looking for a rich woman to take care of him.”

  “Now that’s just plain untrue,” Jenny responded. She might have her problems with Hunter, but he was no gold digger.

  “You let yourself get involved with him, and he’s got your bank account on his mind.”

  “He’s protecting me from Troy. That’s all,” she answered flatly.

  “Don’t lie to me. There’s a hell of a lot more going on between you two! He said so himself.”

  “He was mistaken,” she said firmly.

  “I hired him to protect you and now we need someone to protect you from him!” He shook his head in frustration. “I’ll make sure you’re safe in Santa Fe.”

  “Don’t bother. Hunter will be with me,” she told him. “As a bodyguard. If you’re so worried about the precious Holloway money, stop throwing it at Troy. As long as you feed him, he’ll keep coming to your back door. And that’s all I have to say about that.”

  Her stubborn refusal to discuss Hunter further infuriated Allen, but Jenny tuned out his ranting and raving. She’d given him a stiff hug goodbye and he’d shaken hands with a very cool Rawley. She was glad when their Wednesday night dinner was over and she and Rawley could escape his pretentious River Oaks home. She looked for Hunter’s Jeep on the way back but didn’t see it. Later that night she peeked through her bedroom curtains and was relieved to see his vehicle parked on the street nearby.

  She’d had a final, tearful goodbye with everyone at Riccardo’s. Alberto looked totally crestfallen, unable to keep his “daughter” around any longer. He sent her off with a final paycheck plus a bonus that took her breath away. She immediately started making more plans for Geneva’s.

  Saying goodbye to the Fergusons had been the worst of it. Brandon had just looked shocked and the twins, sensing the attention was away from them, had taken the opportunity to fight. Janice had ignored them, hugging Jenny and urging her to “keep safe” in the wake of Troy’s return from nowhere.

  That evening Janice had stopped by for a glass of wine and a last good-bye. She’d also made Jenny an offer she couldn’t refuse—the surprise for Rawley—and the two friends had toasted their lasting friendship and promised to stay in touch.

  Pulling into the driveway of her adobe-colored condo, she actually grinned from pure happiness. She was free of Troy, at least temporarily, and she was free of her father.

  Rawley opened one eye and asked in a bored tone, “This it?”

  “Yep.”

  She wasn’t going to indulge his childish behavior. Jumping from the car, she hauled out one of the first boxes. Most of their belongings were coming by truck in the middle of next week, but she’d brought along her most precious possessions on this trip: pictures, mementos, and personal papers. Which reminded her …

  “Next time Troy calls, tell him to return your passport.”

  “I know, I know. You’ve told me enough times.”

  Jenny fought back a pointed remark as she pulled out her keys and opened the front door. Rawley wanted to fight about Troy and she was in no position to defend herself. Best to let the kid act like a jerk and hope he eventually realized it would get him nowhere.

  The place smelled dusty from disuse. Jenny crossed to the sliding glass door, cracked it open, then pulled the drapes. Late afternoon sunlight slanted into the room. She glanced around with satisfaction. In its imperfect way, it was perfect.

  It took the rest of the afternoon to unload the Volvo and arrange her belongings. They had no furniture so they sat on the raised hearth of the gas fireplace or sprawled out across the floor. Jenny had remembered to bring the phone and she plugged it in and called Gloria at the restaurant.

  “It’s good you’ve arrived. They’re painting again,” Gloria declared with a sniff when she realized it was Jenny. “Come over and look.”

  Gloria wasn’t much for conversation.

  “I’m going to Geneva’s,” Jenny told Rawley, slinging the strap of her purse over her arm. “Want to come?”

  “Nah.”

  He looked so forlorn that she hesitated. School had already resumed after spring break, but they had the whole weekend ahead. Jenny wondered what Hunter would be doing with his time—besides guarding her. She banished the thought as soon as it crossed her mind. She couldn’t think about him in that way. Too complicated. Maybe later, but not now.

  Geneva’s was located just off Canyon Road on a side street. The location had been an art gallery, then a tea shop, then the owner had taken over adjacent space and added breakfast and lunch. After a messy divorce, the business was sold and the space sat empty for nearly a year while the opposing parties haggled over the lease. When it was finally free of encumbrances Jenny was able to sign a new lease and begin her own modifications and renovations.

  She hadn’t been to the site for nearly two months and the changes stopped her cold. It was nearly ready. In fact, as she watched the painters add another coat of dark mustard yellow paint to the thick plaster walls, she caught a whiff of delicious odors mixing with the aroma of paint.

  In the kitchen Gloria stood over a small, thin man who was browning chipotle in a pan. Santa Fe natives were wont to say, “The chile is king and queen,” and Gloria believed it with all her heart. All her dishes were seasoned with one chile or another, from rocket fuelhot, to delicate and mild. She made chipotle sauce from browned, almost burned, jalapeños. The heat of the jalapeños dissipated in the process, but the flavor was like heaven on the tongue. At least that was Gloria’s interpretation. But there was no denying it was fabulous and just the odor—even vying with the paint fumes—made Jenny’s mouth water.

  “I must be hungry,” she said to her chef.

  Gloria, arms crossed beneath her impressive bosom, glared down at the man, her brown eyes snapping furiously, her mouth a taut line. Her hair was wrapped into a tight bun and scraped away from her face. She could be anywhere from thirty to fi
fty years of age; it was impossible to tell. She was a formidable presence in any kitchen. If Jenny had to choose between being the object of her wrath or Alberto’s, she would choose Alberto every time.

  “We are behind,” she practically spat. Jenny wasn’t sure whether she meant in the construction, or in the preparation of their dishes. When Gloria’s back was turned, the man gave Jenny a wavery smile. “He speaks Spanish only,” Gloria cut in when Jenny was about to say something. “He’s not too bad a cook, though.”

  This was high praise indeed. “Maybe you could tell him that,” Jenny suggested.

  “He knows what I think.” She jerked her head in the direction of the seating area of the restaurant where the painting was being completed. “I’ve been yelling at them. They are slower than snails.”

  “You’ve done a great job,” Jenny told her. Gloria had overseen the renovation work by herself while Jenny wrapped things up in Houston. For her efforts, Jenny had suggested Gloria might want to buy a percentage of ownership. Her father would have choked on the idea, but Jenny knew how important the chef would be to Geneva’s success. Gloria was thinking it over.

  “I didn’t think it would be this far along,” Jenny went on. “It looks like we could open—maybe—next week?”

  “This week!” Gloria declared.

  “All right.” Jenny grinned. “This week.”

  “The chairs and tables are ready for delivery.”

  Jenny nodded. She’d ordered natural pine tables and chairs for the seating area, and for a reception, a restored Spanish writing desk from a tiny antique furniture store further up Canyon Road. Pierced tin lights on dimmer switches hung from the ceiling, and arched entryways were stenciled in motifs resembling the sage and piñon trees that dotted New Mexico’s landscape. The final step would be to fill in the traced greenery, making the archways into painted trellises opening room to room.

  A row of glass panels along the top of the dining room’s northern wall let in bright light inside the room during the day. Without the buildings of the city, the view would be straight toward the Sangre de Cristos mountain range.

  Jenny couldn’t wait to get started. But first …

  “I’ve got some unpacking to do. I’ve set up my telephone. It’s the number I gave you earlier. The one I set up last time I was here.” Gloria grunted in acknowledgment. “I’ll check in tomorrow. When will you be ready for customers?”

  “Got people coming to work on Wednesday. Could be ready to go then.”

  “We’ll do a dry run,” Jenny said. “A dress rehearsal with the waiters. I’d like to get some advance publicity. We’ve been running some ads, but I want to set the date the doors open. How about Friday?”

  Gloria nodded. “I’ll get some working this weekend. A coupla dishes need to be learned and I don’t have eyes in the back of my head!” She glared at the worriedlooking man.

  Jenny let herself out the door. She didn’t think Gloria gave herself enough credit. She half-believed the woman did have eyes in the back of her head.

  At the condo, she realized she hadn’t brought any lamps. The place was pitch dark. Switching on the lights in the kitchen helped some. “Rawley?” she called, feeling that fluttery alarm start inside her again.

  “Yeah,” came the bored answer from down the hall.

  The hall light worked, thank God, so she didn’t have to trail her fingers along the wall to learn where the door was. Peering in his room, she saw that Rawley had moved the phone next to his ear. He was lying on a sleeping bag, hands beneath his head, staring, apparently, at the ceiling.

  “We’ve got the little TV from your room,” she pointed out. “You could set it up.”

  “Nah.”

  “Did you want to call someone?”

  “No.” His tone was slightly belligerent. “Why?”

  “Because you moved the phone from the kitchen. I could get some calls, too, you know,” she pointed out. If Hunter happened to phone, she didn’t want to put up with the dark, accusatory looks and obnoxious attitude Rawley would affect. “Magda or Gloria or anyone. Even the Fergusons.”

  “Why didn’t you get a cell phone?” he demanded.

  That stopped her. “Do I need one?”

  “Dad got one.”

  “Oh.” Jenny’s temper flared. She’d just about had it with his attitude. “Well, if your dad got one, I guess your grandfather’s the one who really owns one.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone stiffened with warning.

  She was instantly sorry for letting her temper get the better of her. “It means you don’t know anything about Troy.”

  “Yeah? Whose fault is that?”

  “I’m more than willing to talk about him now.”

  “You hate him,” Rawley reminded her hotly. “What are you gonna say? Just tons of bad stuff! When he comes here, I’m gonna be with him.”

  “When he comes here?” she repeated.

  “He lives about an hour away,” Rawley told her triumphantly. “In some artsy little town that everybody goes to.”

  “Taos?” she asked faintly.

  “That’s it!” Rawley was pleased that she knew it. It did exist, then. He hadn’t been completely certain his father was telling him the truth. Not that he would lie, Rawley thought quickly, but his dad was just being careful where his mom was concerned.

  Jenny gazed at him with real concern. She could feel the dull, hard pounding of her heart. Just thinking about how Troy had smashed his lips on her and grabbed at her was enough to make her feel ill. She’d thought—prayed—that Allen’s “gift” might keep him at a distance from them for a while. “Rawley, do you know what your dad does for a living?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, instantly on edge.

  “What?”

  “Investments,” he stated flatly.

  “He’s living off money your grandfather gave him. I doubt he has any investments. That’s why he’s back in our lives.”

  “You just hate him!” Rawley practically screamed at her. “That’s your problem!”

  “Rawley …”

  “Just leave me alone,” he muttered, flinging himself on his side and staring at the wall. Shut the door,” he added when she didn’t immediately move.

  All the joy of the day was gone. Jenny let herself into her own room and flipped open her sleeping bag, dropping face down into the pillow. She felt so incredibly tired. Curling up in a ball, she struggled to put her worries out of her head but sleep was a long time coming.

  It was dawn when Hunter pulled into Santa Fe. It had taken him a lot longer than he’d planned to get out of Houston. He’d had a bad feeling all day; and only after he’d followed Jenny out of town for several hours had he been halfway convinced she would be all right. He would have kept on going himself, but there was a request he’d needed to fulfill. Something Jenny had asked him to do. The only thing she’d said of consequence in the strange silence that had developed between them.

  Hunter drove straight to his ranch house, a dusty structure down a road flanked by sagebrush and one lone ponderosa pine. The pine had been brought in a few hundred years back, but the sagebrush was native. Couldn’t kill the stuff if you tried. There was something good about fighting for existence. Better than being handed everything on a silver platter.

  Home sweet home.

  With a sigh he climbed from the Jeep. Two hours of sleep and then he’d be on Ortega’s doorstep. Having returned Holloway’s money, he needed a job.

  You’ll be back … sooner than you know …

  “Damn,” he said softly. Ortega had been right.

  There was no food in the condo. As soon as Jenny was through with her morning shower, she slipped into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and a down vest. Santa Fe was seven thousand feet above sea level and the air was brisk and cold even though it was technically springtime.

  Rawley’s door was still tightly closed. She walked past it and was pulling the keys from her purse when the phone rang.
Quickly she stepped to Rawley’s door, hearing his voice offer a soft, “Hello?”

  “Rawley?” she called through the panels.

  “I got it,” he threw back.

  Jenny backed away, seriously uneasy. Maybe it was Brandon. Maybe some other friend to whom Rawley had given out his number.

  Maybe it’s Troy.

  A frisson ran down her back and she shuddered involuntarily. Troy had a cell phone. Maybe the reason he’d shown up so conveniently every time she was gone was that he’d called Rawley to find out if she were home, then gotten to the apartment as soon as her car was around the corner. And since Hunter had confessed to following her these last few days—not Rawley—he wouldn’t have been around were to Troy to simply drop in.

  Or maybe Rawley called Troy himself The thought made her heart ache.

  “Is it your dad? If it is, I want to talk to him,” she called again.

  “I gotta go,” she heard Rawley say.

  “Rawley?”

  “I’m off the phone.”

  “Was it Troy?”

  Silence.

  “For Pete’s sake,” she declared, twisting open the knob and glaring down at her son. “You can be mad at me all you want, but act like a human being. And know this: Troy’s a master at game-playing, and he’s sucked you in because you don’t know the first thing about him. Be careful.” She swallowed back her fear. “I love you. And I won’t intentionally hurt you.”

  He opened his mouth to argue and she shook her head fiercely, cutting him off. “I know I didn’t tell you where he was. I wasn’t sure myself. I didn’t want to know. He used to hit me, Rawley. Do you understand that?”