Page 8 of The Pretender

“Did you weasel your way in and put your people in place of the ones the uncle intended to hire?” Emery asked.

“Ifixthings. It’s what I do,” Wren explained to her before looking at Harris again. “And I’m trying to help you fix this.”

“If only you could help me forget it.” But Harris knew it wasn’t that simple. A woman was dead and he’d been the one to make it harder to find her killer. Not on purpose, but his intent didn’t matter.

“Gabby could go to prison, Harris.” Wren’s voice was louder and more urgent this time.

“You don’t think I know that?” He thought about little else.

The nightmare played in his head all the time. He tried to push the worries out and convinced himself she was fine. Beaten down but not out. Emotionally battered because of him but a survivor. None of it worked. Every night the doubts and guilt would seep back in. He’d think about her, remember the heartbreaking grief on her face in those photos in the news. Her screams of horror from that night never left him.

Wren continued to stare at Harris. “So?”

As much as Harris fought it, he knew he’d have to return to Tabitha Island one day. For Gabby. Apparently that day had arrived.

“When do I leave?”

Chapter 3

Two days after the showdown with her uncle, Gabby sat on the porch of the main house on Tabitha Island. She’d just arrived with little more than a small duffle bag and a load of panic bouncing around inside her. A month ago her uncle restarted his very public campaign against her, one that caused her to lose the receptionist job she’d managed to land. Now she was back to being unemployed and worrying every two seconds about being arrested.

With the press closing in and the daily barrage of new threats against her, her life unraveled. She traveled to the one place she hated, Tabitha’s special island, because she didn’t have any other option. Control had slipped away and she was desperate to get it back.

Her uncle didn’t want her there, which was a bonus. Ticking him off was her only revenge for how he’d upended her life. But being on the island also provided her with the chance to complete the one task she needed to finish. With a new investigator headed to the island and an appraiser who would be wandering around, she had to be efficient and fast. Not give her movements away.

She’d spent so much of the last fourteen months running and trying to figure out who would want her sweet sister dead that she’d skipped the grieving stage. It swamped her here. She couldn’t go into the guesthouse because her uncle had locked it down. That meant sleeping in Tabitha’s house, and since it had taken her two hours to work up the nerve just to sit on the front porch, Gabby didn’t know how she’d ever get through the front door.

Sitting there, memories floated back to her of Tabitha hanging out on the porch while reading. As a kid, Tabitha would race across the lawn to get to the oversized rocking chair first then wouldn’t move from it for hours. Back then she was five or six, seven years younger than Gabby. As the youngest, Tabitha won most arguments and she’d always loved the island. It made sense since their parents named it after her. She was the “surprise” baby. The one their parents coddled and overprotected from birth.

“Gabrielle.”

At the sound of her uncle’s disappointed tone she looked up. He stood there in his usual expensive suit, this one gray. He wasn’t alone. Another man stood next to him. He lacked Uncle Stephen’s stern expression and stiff stance. No, this guy wore a hint of a smile. She noticed because he was a hard man not to notice. She wouldn’t call him pretty, but he was damn close.

He had a face people would remember. Firm chin with a sexy little bit of scruff around his mouth and over his cheeks. Hazel eyes in this incredible hazy green-brown shade. The muscular frame, yet not bulky. From the brown hair to the broad shoulders, he stood out. Even his clothing, stylish but not too much so.

He checked every single box. It was almost as if someone built him from a list of Tall, Dark and Hot characteristics. And since he was with her uncle, she disliked him immediately. Any friend of her uncle was likely to be an enemy of hers.

“Uncle Stephen.” She nodded to him then turned to the unexpected guest. “I prefer to be called Gabby.”

“You still insist on using that ridiculous nickname?” Stephen made a dismissive sound. He balanced his foot against the bottom step to the porch and glanced at the front door. “We might be more comfortable inside.”

Not going to happen. Her first trip inside would not be with a man who would rather chuck her into the water than sit down to have a meal with her. “I’m fine here.”

The wind whipped around the island but the early-spring sun had grown warm. Gabby had always loved this time of year on Tabitha Island. The tourists hadn’t arrived in the area yet. It was the intake of breath before the wild stage started. All the pleasure boaters and partygoers would show up soon enough.

She looked out at the water, seeing boats. Every now and then a helicopter circled. The press had found her. She wouldn’t be surprised if Uncle Stephen tipped them off.

Stephen shook his head before gesturing at the man next to him. “This is Harrison Tate.”

The introduction pulled her gaze back to the quiet cutie. “Okay.”

“He’ll be appraising the personal property. Doing an inventory.” Stephen’s foot slipped off the step with a thud. “He may have questions for you.”

Right, because that sounded like something an appraiser would do. Her skepticism level rose along with her anxiety. Much more of this crazy bouncing around in her stomach and she’d never be able to eat again. “I don’t know anything about the furniture.”

The guy’s faint smile broke wide. “I’ll mostly be handling the antiques and artwork.”

Yeah, no way was she being lured in by that look. She’d learned long ago that a guy with a pretty face could be just as dangerous as the bossy, controlling-guy type. “I know even less about those things.”

---