* * *
THE MANSION THAT SAT high up on the hill, its stone walls stark and cold, had never seemed like home to Juliana.
The building had felt more like a tomb.
It sure looked like one from a distance.
“We’ve got a press conference scheduled for eight o’clock,” Gunner said from his seat up front. “You’re gonna focus on Guerrero during that talk. Time to start rattling the SOB.”
Right. She nodded. She’d say or do whatever was necessary. No more fear. She wasn’t going to stand in the middle of any more bloodbaths. As it was, Juliana had more than enough gore floating around in her mind to give her plenty of nightmares, thank you so much.
The SUV pulled to a stop. A cop car was behind them, another in front. Their escorts. Juliana knew that a large guard force would stay at the mansion. Added cover, sure, but the bodies were also designed to attract extra attention for them.
Here I am. Come and get me.
So they could get Guerrero.
Gunner exited the SUV and headed for the main entrance. Juliana knew the heavy iron security gates would have already closed behind them, locking the vehicles inside.
She glanced over at the house. This had been her father’s place, not hers.
“Why did you always hate it here?” Logan’s quiet question surprised her.
Shrugging a little, she said, “Because it’s cold inside. It’s just a big fancy tomb.” Her palms flattened against her jeans. “My mother died one week after we moved into this house. She was coming home and a drunk driver slammed into her.”
Juliana had been twelve. Her mother’s death had torn her whole life apart.
And her father—he’d become someone completely different. He’d stopped caring about people. Only focused on things. More wealth. More houses.
“It was never home,” she said, staring at all the windows. “And it always smelled like a funeral.” Because of the flowers. So many had come after her mother’s death. For weeks the house had been overflowing.
Then the flowers had started to wither and die.
She glanced back at Logan and was surprised by the pain she saw flash across his face. “Logan?”
“I’m sorry about your mother. I heard...she was a great lady.”
This part she could remember so well. “She was.” Her mother had been the good that balanced out her father. She’d always made him be better. Without her, he’d fallen apart.
Juliana reached for her door. Her shoes made no sound as she headed up the elaborate walk. Logan was at her side and—
“You’re alive!”
The woman’s high cry had Juliana’s head jerking up. Then she saw Susan Walker, her father’s assistant, rushing toward her.
Susan caught her in a big, tight hug, a hug that smelled of expensive body lotion and red wine. “I thought you’d died! You disappeared after the explosion and no one would tell me anything....” She pulled back, gazing up at Juliana with wide, worried eyes. “I mean, on the news, they said that you’d survived. But I never saw you!” Susan’s words tumbled out too fast. “And I was so worried!”
Susan’s perfectly smooth face gave no hint to her age. She could have been thirty; she could have been forty-five. The woman had been a fixture in her father’s life for the past eleven years.
His closest confidant. The person who organized his life.
And...
Juliana was pretty sure, her father’s lover.
“We need to go inside,” Gunner said in a quiet voice.
Susan jumped, as if she hadn’t even noticed the men surrounding them. Then, after a frantic look around, she said, “Yes, yes, of course...” She ushered them inside the house. She was in a robe. A white silk robe that skirted around her ankles.
When Juliana entered the house, she heard the faint strains of music playing in the background.
They entered the den, and Juliana saw the wineglass on the table.
“I, um...I was just trying to relax a bit.” Susan’s lips pressed together for a moment. “You knew I moved in last spring, right?” She asked as her fingers nervously toyed with the robe’s belt. “I mean, it just... The move gave me better access to your father. There was so much work to do and I—”
“You were sleeping with him.” The words just came out. She wasn’t in the mood for more lies or sugarcoating. Her mother was gone. She’d known her father had lovers, and Susan—well, the woman had always been kind to her.
Susan paled. “I was his assistant! I was—”
“His lover.” Juliana rolled tired shoulders. “It’s all right. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Logan and Gunner were silent, assessing. She knew they’d run a check on Susan, on all the employees who worked so closely with her father.
All of the employees had turned up clean, no connection to Guerrero. But Logan was still suspicious, and she knew the EOD was still digging deep for dirt.
“Who are these men?” Susan glanced first at Gunner. Then Logan.
“Her protection,” Logan said with a smile. “In light of all that’s happened, I’m sure you understand why we’ll be staying here with Juliana.”
“Here?” Susan parroted as her eyes widened.
Right. Well, with her father dead, the house was technically Juliana’s. Even if he had been sleeping with Susan. Talk about awkward. She didn’t want to make Susan feel uncomfortable, but this was where they needed to be, at least for the next few days. Just tell her. “We’re going to be moving in for a while.” Hopefully, it wouldn’t be for long. But in case it was longer, Juliana desperately needed a base to use so that she could get back to her life. She wanted to paint. Painting was her livelihood and she had work to deliver, but more, painting gave her a release. It could help take her mind off all the death.
Logan had told her that supplies would be brought in to her. When he’d said that, she’d almost kissed him. She’d caught herself, though, because she knew just where a kiss would have lead them.
To us both being naked. The awareness simmered between them.
“You can’t stay here.” Susan’s rushed denial had Juliana blinking. “This isn’t... You’ve never stayed here, Juliana.”
It was late. Juliana was exhausted. She wanted to hit the bed and fall into oblivion. “I’m going to be staying here now. So are they.” Simple.
Susan just shook her head.
“Which rooms are free?” Juliana asked her. “There should be more than enough for us to use.” She was already getting a chill from being inside the house. The place was always so cold. Her father had restored every inch of the old antebellum. Or rather, he’d paid folks to restore the house. Maybe it was cold because the place was so big and drafty.