Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(166)

Ethan broke away and headed for the phone. “That’s the box Jane uses to store her computer diskettes. I’m calling the police. There’s been something strange about Rachel showing up here right from the beginning.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll take care of her. Hand over the chest, Rachel.”

“Stuff it.”

He arched one dark eyebrow. “Take the truck, Eth. I’ve got the tarp over the table so it won’t get wet.”

“I’m not leaving. After everything you’ve been through you shouldn’t have to put up with this, too. I’ll take care of her.”

Once again little brother had jumped in to shelter big brother. Rachel gave a snort of disgust.

Ethan heard and whirled to confront her, his expression indignant. “What?”

“Tragedy doesn’t make people helpless,” she pointed out. “Stop coddling him.”

That seemed to shock even Gabe. He had never spoken to her about his loses, although he must have known Kristy would have said something to her by now.

Ethan’s hostility had developed a cold edge. “What right do you have to comment on anything between my brother and me? Gabe, I don’t understand this. I thought she was just working for you, but . . .”


“Go on, Eth.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You have to. Remember you’re on the town council, and, if you actually witnessed someone getting murdered, you’d need to report it.”

“I don’t think you should be alone with her,” he said flatly.

“I won’t be alone.” Gabe gave her a thin smile. “I’ll have Rachel’s screams to keep me company.”





Ethan left the house reluctantly. Rachel realized that all she needed was a few minutes alone with the chest, a few minutes to look beneath the lining or find the secret compartment and she could go.

She wrapped her fingers more securely around the corners and tried to buy herself some time. “Your brother’s a grouch. I guess it runs in the family.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the elaborate columns that led to the living room. “I’m surprised you didn’t unbutton your dress and offer to take him on to keep him quiet.”

“Everything happened too fast. I didn’t have time to think of it.”

He lifted an eyebrow and took a lazy step forward. “Hand it over.”

Her heart felt as if it were moving toward her throat. “No way, Slick. This is mine. It was a present from my grandmother on my sixth birthday.”

“Give it to me.”

“She sold zucchinis in the broiling sun one entire summer so she could give this to me, and she made me swear always to keep it.”

“We can do this easy or rough, it’s up to you.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay, you win. I’ll give it to you. But first I need to dry myself off. I’m freezing.” She edged away from him toward the family room.

He stepped in front of her, blocking the way. “Nice try.”

With one swift movement, he pulled the chest from her arms.

Ignoring her gasp of dismay, he headed for the stairs. “Go ahead and dry off while I put this away. And I’ll take that key when you’re done.”

“Stop it!” She couldn’t let him do this, and she charged after him across the marble. “You’re being a sadistic ass! Just let me look at it.”

“Why?”

“Because I might have left something inside.”

“Such as?”

She hesitated. “An old love letter from Dwayne.”

He regarded her with disgust and turned back toward the stairs.

“Stop!”

He kept going.

“Wait!” She grabbed his arm, then wished she hadn’t touched him, and quickly let go. “Okay, maybe Dwayne might have left something in it.”

He paused with one foot on the bottom step. “Like what?”

“Like—” Her mind raced. “A lock of Edward’s baby hair.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.” He began to climb.

“All right! I’ll tell you.” She struggled to come up with another lie, but couldn’t think of anything that would be even mildly convincing. She would either have to tell him the truth or let him take the chest away. It was no choice. She couldn’t let the chest disappear again until she’d looked inside it, and she’d have to take the risk.

“Like the secret behind where he hid five million dollars.”

That brought him up short. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She gazed up at him and worked hard to swallow. “The money’s mine, Bonner. It’s Edward’s legacy. There are still some debts left, but the rest belongs to him. I earned every penny!”

“How do you figure?”

She got ready to give it to him—her smartest, sassiest, most wiseassed response. But then, just as the words were coming out, something happened inside her throat, and her voice broke. “Because I sold my soul for it,” she whispered.

For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he tilted his head toward the top of the stairs. “I’ll get you a robe. Your teeth are chattering.”