Nicole Young - Kiss Me If You Dare

That in mind, I decided to go easy on Monique when I told her the truth about why we looked like we could be sisters.

We were sisters.

I inhaled a sharp breath at the thought, somehow realizing for the first time that I had a sister. A little sister. We shared only half blood, but blood nonetheless.

While I plotted my strategy for chastising my deadbeat dad, I also planned how Monique and I could become friends. More than friends. Sisters.

Finished with my morning routine, I scoured the bedside table for the local directory. It only took a second to find the number for Roger Jamison on Osprey Avenue. I picked up the phone to dial. But at the sound of the tone, I put down the receiver. What was I going to say?

“Hi, this is your firstborn, Patricia Amble. Can I come by for a cup of coffee?” I’m sure Suzette would be thrilled to welcome into her home the daughter of her husband’s ex-fling. Dear Old Dad would probably spend the whole time in the bathroom with the dry heaves, anyway.

No. I’d go with the more intrusive, in-your-face approach. I’d just show up at their door and throw a tantrum on their snow-covered lawn until they asked me inside.

Yeah. That was mature.

I put my boots on. What did I care what they thought of my emotional maturity? My short time in Del Gloria couldn’t undo thirty-three years of conditioning overnight.

I tugged on my parka. They’d just have to deal with it. Love it or lump it. With my primary mission focused on dousing Candice’s lights, did it really matter which they chose? Anyway, Candice wasn’t anywhere near Churchill Falls or I’d have found her by now.

I walked to the dresser for my purse.

A rhythmic knock sounded at the door. I paused, not sure if I’d heard right. The quiet tapping came again.

It was all of 8 a.m. Who could be knocking on my door?

It had to be my dad. I stared at the door. It seemed to warp away from me, like a view through the wrong end of binoculars. I breathed into my hands, telling myself to stay calm, he was family. A final deep breath, a pasted-on smile, and I pulled back the slide bolt and opened the door.

An elderly woman stood there, bundled in a long coat and carrying an oversized tapestry tote. I recognized her loopy-curled wig. My cohort from River’s Edge.

I shook my head in utter, confused surprise. “Mrs. Callahan? What are you doing here?”

She pushed past me into the room. I shut the door, still speechless.

The old woman stood at the end of the bed. “Tish. Thank God. I see I got to you before he did.”

She pulled her wig off and I cringed. Short silver hair spiked up underneath. She peeled off some sort of rubbery stuff from her cheeks.

I gave a cry of astonishment. “Candice! It’s you.”

With her disguise gone, Candice lost twenty years. An almost wrinkle-free face disputed her true sixty-something age.

I wanted to be angry. Had she been spying on Brad at River’s Edge? What was that about-to make sure he died if he didn’t kill himself?

I wanted to scream in rage. How dare she show up in Churchill Falls? And just as I was going to visit my long-lost father.

I wanted to strangle her. How could she walk into my hotel room like an old friend after what she did to Brad?

I kept it all business. “What brings you to Churchill Falls?”

“The same thing that brought you here.” She tossed the tapestry bag on the bed and pulled it open.

I flashed a fake grin. “And what would that be? I came here looking for you.”

“Oh, I think you’re here looking for more than that.”

Candice unbuttoned her frumpy pink old-lady blouse, revealing snug black sleeves beneath.

“You’re right. I am looking for more.” I was looking for revenge.

Crossing my arms, I observed as she slid out of fuchsia polyester slacks, uncovering tight black leggings.

“We don’t have time for games, Tish. I took the plane from Goose Bay. I think he has an ATV and is coming in on the Trans-Labrador, which gives us only a few extra hours.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Just book your tickets in your real name, why don’t you? It’s like a neon sign flashing ‘Follow Me!’ ”

“Using a false name isn’t exactly easy anymore. Besides, you booked travel using your real name. Why do you think I’m here?”

“I did it because I knew they would look the opposite direction from Churchill Falls as soon as they saw I hadn’t used my tickets. They’d know it was a bluff. Hence, everyone would remain safe.”

I rubbed fingers to my temples. “I’m not following. Who are ‘they’ and ‘everyone’ in this story?”

“ ‘They’ are Frank Majestic and friends. ‘Everyone’ is Jacob Russo-your father-and his family.” Black jeans came out of the tote. She stepped into them, pulling them over her leggings, as she brought me up to speed. “And ‘he’ is a hired gun, the assassin paid by Majestic to finish the job. He’s hot on your trail. We have to get you out of here, and somehow make it seem like you didn’t find what you were looking for. Once we get you safe on your way, I’ll double back and warn Jacob.”

She took a sweater out of the bag, dragging something with it. A pistol landed on the bedspread. She picked it up and casually tossed it back in the tote. Then she put on the sweater, smoothing the soft gray angora into place. Looking in the dresser mirror, she tousled her hair. “There. Now I feel more like myself.”

And with the gun in the bag, I could tell she was ready to act more like herself too. Which man would die this time around?

I tried to look natural, even as I plotted a way to get at the gun. “I was just headed over to my dad’s house now. I’ll warn him when I get there.”

Candice swung toward me. “Single him out, Tish, and he’s dead. Right now he’s just another plant employee. It’ll take awhile for the killer to narrow it down.” She pointed a finger at me. “But you walk up his front steps, and it’s like giving him the kiss of death.”

“You’re full of malarkey.” I walked to the bed and dropped onto it, one leg tucked under me. “You shot Brad. Why? To spare me from the possibility that things wouldn’t work out twenty years down the road? That is so lame. And I’m supposed to believe you came all this way to rescue my father? He abandoned me as a child. That’s a far bigger crime than anything Brad could ever do to me. For all I know, you’re just using me to find my dad so you can kill him yourself.”

She sat next to me on the bed. “No. I love your dad. He’s…,” she looked away, “he’s Bernard’s son. How could I not love him as much as I love everything else that belongs to Bernard?” Her eyes pleaded for understanding.

“Touching. Really. But I’ve seen how you express your love. Did you ever think about consulting me before you killed the one I love most?”

She stood and walked toward the window. “I suppose you’re still mad about that. I meant to take a clean shot at his heart.” She clasped her hands together, head bowed. “But at the last moment I had second thoughts and went for a lung instead. I feel bad I nicked his spine.” She clasped her fingers over her mouth, looking out the window.

I leaned forward, hand in the bag, feeling around for the pistol. “You shot him, Candice. He almost died. He wishes he was dead.” I aimed the weapon at her.

She turned back to me, her eyes registering the gun, but not even acknowledging it. “Brad surprised me. A big macho man like him, heartsick over his girlfriend’s death. He’d rather have died than live without you. It was very romantic.” She walked toward me.

“Stay where you are.” I couldn’t let her get to me. Her voice was hypnotic, soothing. It was just a means to distract me.