Endangered Heiress Page 9

  “I don’t know what you think he’s into but Trent’s a good dude,” Brayden said.

  “I’m sure he is. But in my experience innocent people don’t run, Brayden,” Hudson said through even breaths. On the other hand, Madelyn was still trying to recover from their late-morning run.

  Trent was guilty of something.

  Brayden shrugged. “He doesn’t party, if you know what I mean. That was my biggest requirement for being roommates. I’m not into drugs and wild parties.”

  “You seem like a straight-up guy. You don’t mind if we check out your place, do you?” Hudson asked.

  “I’ve got nothing to hide,” Brayden defended.

  Hudson hopped to his feet in a smooth motion and offered a hand up to the younger man. Brayden took it and the two of them followed him back to his house. The place looked cleaner than a typical bachelor pad. Just as Madelyn had suspected, walls had been taken down in order to give the ground floor as much of an open concept as the older construction would allow. Brayden seemed to take great pride in the place. The furniture was simple and modern. There was a surprising amount of food in the kitchen for two bachelors. In the living room, a flat-screen TV flanked one wall and a gaming system of some sort was still on.

  “We were playing when you knocked.” Brayden motioned toward the screen.

  “Popular game,” Hudson agreed. A man in battle fatigues held out a gun in the center of the screen. There was a map in the top right corner. Madelyn had heard of the game before but she couldn’t remember the title. Something about planting bombs and counterterror attacks.

  Two empty cups of coffee sat on the coffee table next to a plate with a few crumbs still on it.

  “You don’t think it’s suspicious that someone knocks on the door and then your friend bolts?” Hudson asked, and he was probably trying to ascertain if Brayden’s story could hold water.

  “Sure, at first. He said that it’s no big deal but he wanted me to run out the back door and distract you. Said he might’ve forgotten to pay a bill or something and that he’d take care of it later,” he said.

  “And you believed him?” Hudson asked.

  “He’s never given me a reason not to trust him until now.” Brayden rubbed the scruff on his chin. On close examination, he couldn’t be more than twenty-six years old. “Are you like cops or something?”

  “You have a nice place,” Madelyn said to distract him.

  Brayden smiled and she was pretty sure his eyes lit up, too.

  Okay, she wasn’t flirting but he seemed to take it that way. Hudson stepped in between the two of them, blocking Brayden’s line of sight.

  “Where’s Trent’s room?” he asked.

  “The bedrooms are upstairs. Follow me.” Brayden took the lead. He stopped at the top of the stairs. “I don’t feel right letting you in my roommate’s private space. I don’t even go in there. It’s why we get along. We don’t mess in each other’s personal area.”

  “Tell him that I gave you no choice. If he’s a good guy, like you say he is, there’s nothing to hide. We won’t find a thing and we’ll be out of your hair in ten minutes.” Hudson maintained steady eye contact as he spoke, only glancing away when he was finished. He stood tall with his shoulders back, communicating confidence.

  “Something you said has been bothering me,” Brayden admitted. “Innocent people never run. I’ve seen that on cop shows and, whatever, just don’t mess things up in there. But if you find anything to be concerned about, tell me what it is.”

  “You have a deal.” Hudson offered a handshake.

  Brayden took the outstretched hand and then stepped aside to make room for them on the landing.

  There were two bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom they must share. Hudson reached for Madelyn’s hand and electricity pinged through her with contact. Neither the time nor the place, she thought. He was only making a show of them being together and it meant nothing to him.

  Trent’s room was messier than downstairs but not by a whole lot. His wallet was on his dresser along with his keys. Hudson opened it and found the usual: credit cards, license, a few twenties along with a two-dollar bill. A laptop was on his bed and there was a stack of clothes piled next to a hamper. It seemed like every man’s room she’d been in, be it friend or more, had that same mound of clothes right next to the hamper. What was up with that?

  The covers were mussed on the platform-style bed. There was a fistful of change on the nightstand along with chargers. Hudson had scanned the room as he walked it and now his full attention was on the laptop.

  “Do you happen to know his password?” he asked Brayden, who was hovering at the door, looking uncomfortable. Did his pinched expression have anything to do with his suspicion that his roommate might’ve done something wrong, or was it because he’d just allowed strangers to violate their privacy pact? Brayden seemed like a straight-up guy. She decided it was the latter.

  “Can’t help you there, dude,” he said. “We don’t share that kind of information.”

  Madelyn figured as much.

  “What’s his birthday?” Madelyn asked, figuring most people’s passwords used those numbers.

  Brayden shot her an are-you-kidding-me look. “He’s smarter than that.”

  Madelyn had no doubt. It seemed like most twentysomethings knew ten times as much as she did about technology.

  “Most people use a pattern on the keyboard,” Hudson said.

  “Not likely, but I have no idea and I never ask.” Brayden shifted his weight to his right foot.

  “Do you have any idea where your buddy might’ve taken off to?” Hudson asked after three failed attempts to hack Trent’s password.

  “None at all.” He shook his head. “But then, I didn’t see any of this coming.”

  He had a point there. He’d seemed genuinely surprised by the revelations so far.

  “What about a girlfriend?” Hudson pushed off the bed and stood. She was reminded again at how intimidating his height could be.

  “We don’t get into that with each other,” Brayden said.

  And that seemed odd.

  “Surely you’d know if he was serious about someone,” Hudson said. “Wouldn’t he bring her home with him?”

  Brayden shrugged again. “I guess so. He goes out and there’ve been a few times when he didn’t come home lately.” His eyes flashed toward Madelyn. “I figured he met someone. But we don’t talk about stuff like that. We don’t usually work the same shifts, so when we do cross over we’re downstairs gaming.”

  Sounded about right to Madelyn, given their ages.

  “Mind if I ask where you work?” Hudson was taking in the scene, leaning a little toward Brayden, and based on the change in Hudson’s body language, she figured he wanted the young guy to feel like he was listening.

  “I work in the IT department for the Gaming Depot,” he supplied. “Everything you saw downstairs we got for free.”

  “Nice,” Hudson said, and she could see that Brayden was relaxing a little, Hudson was gaining trust inch by inch, and she couldn’t help but think that he would’ve made one heck of a journalist. If he didn’t dislike them so much.

  “Mind if we head back downstairs?” Brayden asked, stepping aside to let them leave the room and head down the steps. He relaxed a little more once they were in the living room.

  “Give Trent a message for us?” With his arms crossed, Hudson’s posture was loose and open.

  “Sure thing, dude.” Brayden swayed slightly, leaning a little closer to Hudson and mirroring his body language. The move was totally on a subconscious level and Madelyn knew that Hudson was gaining ground. She appreciated his skills but the average Joe wouldn’t be that good.

  “Tell him to give me a call. We just want to ask a few questions. We’re not trying to collect on a bill. We just want to clear up what we think might
be a misunderstanding. Ask him a few questions.” Hudson asked for a pen and paper and scribbled down his cell number. “Have him call when he gets home, okay?”

  “I’ll pass along the message,” Brayden promised.

  “Oh, and one more thing. What kind of car does he drive?” Hudson asked, stopping at the door.

  “White Jeep. Why?” Brayden asked.

  “Just wanted to know in case I pass him in the street. We’re not cops. We’re not here to arrest your friend or make his life miserable. He doesn’t owe us any money. All we want is to ask a few questions.” Hudson opened the door and then stopped. “By the way, did he seem sick to you this morning?”

  Brayden shot a quizzical look toward Hudson. “Not at all. Why?”

  “He’s not ill?”

  “Seemed fine to me,” Brayden said.

  “His boss said he called in sick at work today. You guys share rent on this place?” Hudson continued.

  “Yeah.”

  “Make sure he pays up early. Wouldn’t want any late fees,” Hudson said as he opened the door and walked out.

  Damn fine investigative work, if anyone asked Madelyn. Brayden had doubts about his roommate now. From here on out, he’d notice things. She figured that Hudson had plans to circle back in a few days and ask more questions if Trent didn’t call, and there was about a fifty-fifty chance Trent wouldn’t, based on her experience.

  Next time, Brayden wouldn’t let Trent run.

  * * *

  MADELYN CALLED HER father’s number three times in a row, needing to hear the sound of his voice as she waited to hear back from Ed Staples. He didn’t pick up, which wasn’t a huge surprise. She pressed the phone to her ear, listening to his recorded message.

  “Everything okay?” Hudson asked, breaking into the moment. He surprised her and she quickly wiped the stray tear from her eye before he could see that she was crying.

  “Yes. I’m just a little tired. I didn’t sleep as much as I would’ve liked last night.” There was no conviction in those words. She couldn’t fake being okay. But as she looked out over his expansive property, a sense of calm washed over her. The place was peaceful. She had to give him that. They’d returned to the ranch so that Hudson could take care of his animals and she hadn’t heard him walk up behind her until he was right next to her. He folded his hands and rested his elbows on the top railing of the wood fence.

  It was hot outside but Madelyn liked the heat. She angled her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. “Ever get the feeling like you’re in a nightmare that won’t end and you can’t wake yourself up?”

  “Every day,” he said, and there was so much depth to his voice, like a river that had cut its way through granite to carve out its path.

  “Where’d you live before?” she asked.

  “It’s not important,” he mumbled, but it was to her. He was as unobtainable as every important man in her life had been. Was that the appeal? The reason her heart fluttered every time he was near?

  Madelyn let the sun warm her skin. “My high school coach called to personally invite me to a ceremony honoring my swimming accomplishments.”

  “Sounds like a big deal,” he said.

  “It is. The school’s planning a whole thing around a couple of us. We’re being inducted into the hall of fame,” she said. “I called my father to tell him about it and he didn’t pick up. He hasn’t called back. He calls on the first of the month without fail and nothing in between.”

  Tears surprised her, burning the corners of her eyes.

  “He sounds reliable.” Hudson was trying to make her feel better.

  “That, he is. Unless you consider that he might have been keeping a huge secret from me my entire life.” So much about her childhood made sense if she wasn’t really a Kensington but a Butler.

  “I’m truly sorry about your mother.” He paused for a beat. “Did your father remarry?”

  “Thank you and no. He’s been dating the same woman for as long as I can remember. They never married,” she stated. “She cooks for him on Thursdays and he takes her out on Sunday nights. Says Saturday is too busy and it’s hard to get a table.”

  Hudson looked out onto the pasture. She expected him to throw a few words on the wall to see if they’d stick, like the few people she’d opened up to over the years always had. They’d say things like, “I’m sure he loved you.” Or, “Men are like that sometimes.”

  Empty words never made a hard situation better.

  The cowboy put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

  “Kids should feel loved every day of their lives. They grow up too fast as it is, especially when they lose someone they love so young.” His voice wasn’t more than a whisper in her hair and yet there was so much comfort in his words.

  “Thank you,” she said back to him, matching his cadence.

  And then she surprised herself in turning to face him, pushing up to her tiptoes and kissing him. His muscles tensed, his back ramrod straight. She trailed her fingers along the strong muscles in his shoulders and gazed up at him.

  His eyes darkened with hunger as his tongue slicked across his bottom lip. Madelyn couldn’t help herself. She nipped at the trail and he took in a sharp breath.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” he said, and the mystery surrounding him was most likely half the appeal. She told herself that if they went down that road—the one where they had incredible sex—that would somehow dim the attraction between them. Or maybe she was just searching for comfort, for one night of distraction in this crazy mixed-up world that had become her life. She hadn’t truly felt like she belonged in someone’s arms in...in... How sad was it that she couldn’t remember how long? Maybe never?

  And yet being with Hudson on his land brought her dangerously close to just that, a feeling of security.

  That hot stove was waiting to burn her, so she took a step back, trying to get a handle on her overwrought emotions. Having her life turned upside down was most likely causing these intense emotions coursing through her, she told herself.

  “I know I said going ahead with whatever is happening between us isn’t smart but stopping it feels like a decision we’ll regret,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly, and hinted of great sex.

  “Then tell me something about yourself. Something that even Doris wouldn’t know. Because I don’t want to go there with you, a stranger, without feeling like I know who you are,” she said, and her voice came out way more desperate than she wanted to admit. Was this another attempt to heal past relationships? To attain the impossible?

  “My mother died when I was barely out of high school. I never knew my father,” he said, not breaking eye contact.

  It seemed like they had more in common than either of them realized. In so many ways Madelyn didn’t feel a connection to hers. What did she know about Charles Kensington other than surface stuff, like the fact he watched football every Sunday while eating Andy Capp’s Hot Fries with a Bud Light chaser.

  “I don’t even know my father’s favorite color. I lived with the man for eighteen years of my life and I have no idea what his favorite flower is. It’s like we lived side by side in tandem, but not in sync.” She flashed her eyes at him, fighting back the swell of tears threatening. Emotions were taking over and embarrassment heated her cheeks for being so point-blank with a near-stranger. Only Hudson didn’t feel like a stranger. “Obviously, I overthink things.”

  “It’s not too much to ask to know little things about the person who is supposed to love you the most,” he said, adding, “My favorite color is powder blue, like the early-morning sky in spring and your eyes.”

  A trill of awareness skittered across her skin.

  They both stood there for several seconds and she was certain he was feeling the same thing. She could practically touch the current running between them, lighting her senses and
tugging her toward the strong man standing in front of her. She may not know who he really was but her body didn’t seem to care.

  “Did he talk about your mother growing up?” he asked, his serious eyes intent on her.

  “Hardly ever,” she said. “He let me keep a picture of her next to my bed, and I talked to it all the time when I was little, like she’d somehow magically appear.”

  His smile was like stepping into a cool natural spring and out of the heat when the sun started to scorch her skin.

  “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable and force you into talking about whatever you’ve been through that makes you prefer the company of animals to people. All of this has me wondering if I can really ever trust anyone. Do I really know anything about my past? Or was it all a lie? I’m questioning everything now,” she said. It struck her as odd that she might not really know the most basic thing about herself, who her father was.

  “What about DNA testing?” he asked.

  “I asked Ed Staples about it and he apologized, stating that Mike Butler was cremated. There’s no way to get a test now,” she said. “I asked about siblings but he doubted anyone would volunteer, although, he agreed to ask. Which leaves me no choice but to go to the judge and ask for a court order.”

  “And that takes time,” he said.

  “Money, too,” she added. “With the Butler fortune at their disposal, the siblings could tie things up in court for years.”

  “Leaving you right where you started, with no answers,” he stated, turning toward the pasture and clasping his hands again. “We could come at this from a different angle. Why would Mike Butler lie about you being his child?”

  “I can’t think of one reason. He has nothing to gain and my presence brings shame to his children. I checked online last night and I’m around the same age as his eldest daughter. We both know what that means,” she said.

  “He was cheating on his wife with your mother.”

  She turned and gripped the railing. “It also means that both of my parents are dead and I call a stranger ‘Dad.’”