Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [97]
“Jilly…”
“Get packed and bring your stuff downstairs. I’ll be down in a minute. Don’t try to take everything—the sooner we get out of here the better.” The sooner she got away from Coltrane, from the smell of sex that was turning her stomach and making her heart ache, the better.
They’d used up most of the hot water. It didn’t matter—a cold shower was what she deserved. She dressed quickly, grabbing the first thing she could find. Jeans and a T-shirt, letting her hair hang free as she hurried down the stairs. The hall was deserted, and she headed straight for the kitchen, the heart of the house. The sun was already beginning to set, filling the rambling old mansion with shadows. She’d spent the entire day in bed with a cheat and a liar.
And the worst thing was, she still wanted him.
She was a survivor. They had their roles in the family. Rachel-Ann was the fragile one, Dean the scapegoat. And Jilly was the mother, comforter, the strong one who rescued and protected.
Right now she would have given anything to have someone rescue and protect her. But she’d already given that right to the man who’d betrayed her.
She was limping by the time she reached the living room. Twelve hours on her back hadn’t quite effected a cure for her feet. All was still and silent, everything hidden in shadows, and she almost turned away when some small sound alerted her.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said. “Looking for someone?”
Jackson Dean Meyer rose from the wing chair that had shielded him from sight. He looked smaller than she remembered, somehow diminished. And yet even more dangerous. Because what had been vague, instinctive warnings had now coalesced into fact. He was a murderer. A murderer fixated on his own daughter. One of them.
“You look like hippie trash, Jillian,” he said calmly. “As usual.”
“Takes one to know one, pops,” she said flippantly. “Did Grandmère know you ran a commune in this place?”
“Why do you think she took it away from me? And I wouldn’t knock it if I were you. This family was flat broke before I got started. Drug money went a long way toward making us solvent again. Toward supporting you and this house.”
But Jilly wasn’t going to be distracted. “You can’t have her.”
Jackson’s small eyes narrowed. “Jealous?”
“You’re disgusting.”
He didn’t even react. “Where’s your sister? And where’s Coltrane? He promised to have her here for me.”
“And you trusted him?” There was no noise in the house. She could only hope and pray that Coltrane had realized Jackson was already there and had spirited Rachel-Ann down the back stairs, out of the house, away from danger.
“As much as I trust anyone. Why shouldn’t I? He isn’t troubled by morals.” He cocked his head to one side, looking at her. “Oh, I get it. You slept with him. I told him to try to distract you if he could—I didn’t need you barging into my office, asking questions, demanding answers while I was dealing with the federal government breathing down my neck. But I never thought he’d do it. Or that you’d fall for it. I guess you’re not the big, strong Jilly, after all. You’re just as much of a weak-minded fool as your mother was.”
She didn’t even blink. “Rachel-Ann is gone, Jackson, and so is Coltrane. If you want to get out of the country ahead of the law then you’d better leave now.”
“How very interesting. Who told you I was leaving the country? As far as I know only Coltrane was aware of my plans.”
“Maybe you trusted Coltrane a little too much.”
“And maybe I didn’t.” Jackson was looking past her, into the darkened hallway. “What took you so long?”
It was Coltrane, of course. Dressed, looking like a stranger. Not like the man who’d spent hours in bed with her. And standing beside him was Rachel-Ann, looking stunningly serene, with Coltrane’s hand on her thin upper arm.
Jackson smiled at Rachel-Ann, that fond, benevolent smile that had always made Jilly’s blood run cold. Long before she knew she had a reason for her discomfort.
“We’re going away, Rachel-Ann. You’re coming with your old man and we’ll roam the world having adventures. You’d