Alaskan Mountain Pursuit Elizabeth Goddard (best short novels .TXT) 📖

pasta meal Marguerite had prepared, eating alone while her stepfather and Ashley took their conference call and then prepared to leave. This was a lot of work for after-hours. But with an international corporation, it was always business hours somewhere in the world.

Although there wasn’t anyone to watch her, she made a show of unpacking and then putting away the few items she’d brought, as though she had every intention of staying in her old room like she’d told her stepfather. Like she was a little girl again—a princess—as Will had put it.

Sylvie wasn’t a princess. She was a woman on a mission who’d dragged an unintentional hero along with her. In keeping with their ruse, Will was in one of the guest rooms at the far end of the hallway. Not too far. And yet, entirely too close.

Part of her wished she hadn’t needed his presence to chase away her fears. Regardless, they were both in it deep now, if they hadn’t been before. There wasn’t a moment to lose or any time to let her guard down, especially now that she’d revealed so much to Damon.

With his reaction, he’d made her doubt every conclusion she’d reached. When she’d seen him in the doorway, she hadn’t known what to do or expect. Had no idea why she’d blurted out the truth, but she’d desperately wanted to know if he was involved, had been willing to risk hers and Will’s lives to know the truth about the man who had raised her.

A chill ran over her.

She hadn’t liked what she’d seen behind his gaze. He was hiding something. Something was terribly wrong but Sylvie couldn’t tell if it was related to company woes, as he’d mentioned, or her accusations. But Ashley, his assistant and her mother’s friend, was here, too. Despite the fact Sylvie hadn’t wanted to see Damon, she’d been glad to see Ashley. If only she would get the chance to speak to her privately before she left.

The thrum of a helicopter drew Sylvie to the window. Darkness had taken hold, but lights kept the helipad well lit. Ashley at his side, Damon hurried toward the helicopter that would deliver them to their meeting. But then they paused, appearing deep in conversation.

There was a soft knock on the door. Probably Marguerite, coming to ask if she needed anything more before retiring to her own room. Sylvie had grown accustomed to living on her own. No maids or staff hovering, watching her every move. It had been surprisingly easy to get used to. Sylvie craved freedom and privacy. She swung the door open. Will stood on the other side.

“Sylvie—”

She yanked him into the room and closed the door. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why all the cloak and dagger?”

“Because I’m supposed to be in bed already. I’m tired, remember? You, too.”

“You told me you’d come get me in a few minutes. It’s been half an hour. I got worried.”

“Honestly, I needed a few minutes to myself. Being here is hard. Seeing him drained me.”

“Since we’re being honest, I’ve been in the hallway outside your door, standing guard. I got tired of waiting.”

Watching him lean against the door now, anxiety in his eyes mixed with concern for her, warmth tingled through her belly. A feeling she couldn’t ignore. A feeling she couldn’t afford.

She turned her back rather than risking that he’d see her face and read the thoughts rushing through her silly-girl head. Rubbing her temples as if thinking things through, she said, “We have to get to work before the bodyguard shows up in case Damon has instructed him to spy on us or stop us. I’ve been waiting for the helicopter to leave with him. I don’t want Marguerite to know what we’re up to, either.”

“What’s your plan, then?” Will’s voice was close behind her.

Without looking at him, she moved to the window again, watching for any sign of a vehicle arriving with a bodyguard.

“We head for the basement.”

“The basement?”

“That’s my first stop to find the boxes with Mom’s stuff.” Sylvie turned, ready to escape the room and the memories that rushed at her. “That’s one of the big differences in a regular house and a Frank Lloyd Wright house. His houses had no basements or attics.”

Will stood in her way, grabbed her shoulders. “I don’t care about Frank what’s-his-name. I care about you and this situation. I have a bad feeling about this. We’re risking too much by just being here. Your stepfather was right about one thing. This can’t be easy on you. It must be hard to think he could murder your mother.”

“Hard enough hearing the arguments they had over the years. Knowing that he cheated on her.”

Sylvie couldn’t look at him anymore and rushed to the door. What he must be thinking—that her mother deserved to be cheated on, considering Sylvie was the product of an adulterous relationship. All of it serving as a reminder to Sylvie that she couldn’t go through that kind of pain, loving a man and getting married. Couldn’t expose herself to that kind of hurt. The reminder was good timing, helping her keep her heart distanced from the man standing just behind her, his concern for her resounding in his panicked breaths.

Placing her hand against the knob, she spoke softly, “Let’s get this over with.”

The sooner she discovered the truth and exposed it, the sooner she could put safe distance between her and Will Pierson.

FOURTEEN

What would a basement inside a place like this look like? Will wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Didn’t want to go down in the dark and be trapped if someone tried to attack them again.

As far as Will was concerned, the longer they stayed, the greater the danger, now that Damon Masters himself knew they were here.

Trailing Sylvie down the hallway, Will fought the urge to creep around like a couple of criminals. Just like Sylvie, he wanted to find out what really happened to his mother. But since their arrival here, he was