Slow Burn

Chapter Twenty-five

"What the hell was that?" dylan posed the question as they crossed the lobby.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific," she said. "Which hell are you referring to?"

Anderson Smith, beaming like a proud parent whose child has performed way beyond his expectations, chased after them.

"Miss MacKenna… Kate, Kate, please, wait just a minute."

For a split second Kate considered running from him. She desperately wanted to get away from the relatives with all possible haste, but not at the attorney's expense. It wasn't his fault that his client had been such a foul old man. She also couldn't blame him for the vile relatives. Anderson seemed to be just as shocked and repulsed by their behavior as she and Dylan were.

Forcing a smile, she turned around and waited for the attorney to reach her.

"Yes?"

"I was so pleased to hear you say you have decided to accept your inheritance. Shall I expect you here tomorrow at three? Your uncle's accountants and advisors will be ready to answer any questions you will surely have after you've looked through the report, and they will also witness your signature." He took a breath and added, "And I will of course continue to do my best to guide you until the transfer is complete and until you name a new firm to represent you."

"I have no plans to replace you, Anderson," she assured.

He was obviously thrilled with her decision. He clasped her hand. "Wonderful, wonderful."

"But the eighty million-"

"Actually, my dear, your uncle understated the value."

She blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Your inheritance is considerably more than eighty million."

"Oh… and you will continue to represent…" Her voice trailed away.

"Will I see you tomorrow at three?"

He was moving too fast for her. Everything was moving too fast. "I'll need time to read… tonight… and tomorrow…" She looked frantically at Dylan for help. She couldn't seem to get the words out. She thought she must sound moronic.

Dylan thought she sounded as dazed as she looked.

"Could Kate get back to you about the meeting? She could call you in the morning to let you know when to schedule it. Don't do anything until you hear from her."

She was nodding eagerly. "Yes, I'll call you."

Anderson pointed to the binder she was gripping. "You have quite a bit to read tonight and to absorb. I've printed out the arrangements for your uncle's burial in the event you wish to attend, though I would encourage you not to." He patted her hand and stepped back. "As your attorney," he said with a smile, "I want you to feel that you can call me at any time, day or night, with questions or concerns. My card is inside the binder with each of my numerous phone numbers."

"Thank you," she said.

She started to turn away, then stopped. "About this meeting…"

"Yes?"

"Will the cousins be there?" She was proud of herself. She'd said "cousins" without flinching or gagging.

He was sympathetic. "I'm sorry to say they will have to be invited. Your uncle's instructions were quite specific. I didn't question his motive when he told me his wishes, but it's my belief he wanted the brothers to see firsthand what they'd be losing. Their presence isn't mandatory, however, because their shares of the estate have already been assigned to them. The same applies to your sisters, Kiera and Isabel. You are the only one who has to be present to sign anything.

"If you had refused the inheritance, I am confident the three nephews would ultimately be the next in line to receive it, since they maintained contact with your uncle while he was alive. His will explicitly limits what he has bequeathed to your sisters, so I doubt they would be able to lay claim to the larger estate. I guess what I am trying to say is that it all rests with you."

He spoke more to Dylan than to her when he said, "I cannot impress upon you strongly enough the importance of continuing to be cautious." Taking her hand again, he said, "I don't want you to be concerned about any of your relatives barging into the meeting with a weapon. There will be sufficient security, I assure you."

She thought he was making a lame attempt at a joke until he addressed Dylan again.

"My security guard has informed me that the serial number on the gun he confiscated had indeed been filed away."

"I'm not surprised," Dylan replied. "Did he call it in, and did he check on a permit?"

"Yes, he did. The police are on their way."

"That's good to hear."

Anderson finally let them escape. They were crossing the lobby when Dylan spotted the security guard anxiously waiting in the shadows near the entrance.

Kate tried to walk ahead to the door, but Dylan grabbed her arm. "Hold on a minute."

The guard rushed over to them. "Detective Buchanan, did Mr. Smith tell you what I found out about the gun?"

"Yes, he did."

"What should I tell them? They're going to be here any second."

Dylan could see the guard was nervous about the procedure. "You don't have to do anything but give them the gun. They'll handle Roger MacKenna."

"Shouldn't they be warned about him?"

"They have been warned," he assured him. "They know what they're doing. You just stay out of their way."

"Yes, sir."

"Anderson is going to try to keep all of them in his office until the police arrive, but if Roger insists on leaving, he'll walk down with him. You won't have to face him alone." The guard still looked worried. "Or you could wait in your office…" Dylan continued.

Instantly relieved, the guard answered, "If that's what you want me to do, sir, then I'll wait in my office."

He nodded. "Okay, Kate. Let's go."

She didn't move. Her look of astonishment was priceless, and he almost laughed.

"The gun surprised you?" he asked.

Surprised? Oh, please. She'd gone way past surprise in the attorney's office. Like an Irishman at an Anglican wake, she had this totally inappropriate urge to laugh. The brothers just kept getting worse.

"Roger brought a gun to the attorney's office?" She took a couple of steps toward the door and stopped. "Who would bring a gun to the reading of a will?"

"Apparently Roger MacKenna would, and in fact did. The police will take him to the station and have a little chat with him. They'll run the gun, too," he added. "Hopefully, Roger will do some heavy sweating in jail. That would be pretty sweet, wouldn't it?"

"Shouldn't you be waiting for the police? They might have questions…"

"No, we're not waiting. We're getting away from here as quickly as possible. Unless you want to run back upstairs and kiss the cousins good-bye."

She shuddered with repulsion. She'd rather eat glass.

"No, thank you," she said politely. "I'd just as soon leave."

He grinned. "I thought you might."

A clap of thunder greeted them when they stepped outside. It was already drizzling, but the clouds were dark and heavy. A hard rain would come any second now.

"Want to make a run for it?" he asked.

He didn't give her time to answer. He grabbed her hand and took off. By the time they reached the corner, the drizzle had turned into rain.

She was keeping pace with him, which was no small feat. "I would prefer that you bring the car around."

They sprinted across the street as he said, "No way, Pickle. You're staying with me, and we're getting out of here."

They raced along the path through the park. Dylan was scanning the area, looking for anyone or anything that didn't belong. His hand rested on the handle of his gun.

Kate's high heels were taking a pounding and killing her, but pride kept her from complaining or asking him to slow down. She'd keep up or die trying.

When they reached the car, Dylan opened her door and practi-cally tossed her inside. He removed his jacket and, just as he was handing it to her, the skies opened up. He managed to make it to the driver's side without getting completely soaked.

Kate folded his jacket and carefully laid it on the backseat. After placing the thick binder and the envelope on the floor behind her, she sat back and tried to calm her racing heart. She couldn't get the cousins out of her thoughts. She felt as though she'd just spent the past hour whirling in a blender.

Dylan checked the street and the buildings beyond. The rain had chased pedestrians under the awnings and into doorways. Two pickup trucks drove by, but the drivers didn't look their way.

They were safe… for the moment.

A police car sped by and turned the corner. It came to an abrupt stop in front of Smith and Wesson.

Dylan started the engine and said, "Okay, let's go."

The windows were beginning to steam up as he pulled onto the street. He flipped on the air conditioner.

Kate wasn't paying attention to where they were going until she noticed he missed the turn that would take them to the highway. When she pointed that out, he nodded but kept going.

It seemed to her that he turned left or right at nearly every corner. She soon lost her sense of direction. She thought they had started out going north, but he'd made so many turns she couldn't get her bearings.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere yet. I'm making sure we aren't being followed."

She quickly turned around and looked out the back window. "I don't see anyone."

"Neither do I."

"Then why…"

"Just being careful."

The rain was already letting up. Dylan spotted a baseball field and pulled into a parking lot adjacent to a set of metal bleachers. There wasn't a soul around, no doubt because of the weather, but the sun was already moving in, and with it came a renewed wave of heat and humidity. Steam rose up from the concrete path that circled the lot.

Dylan put the car in park, unhooked his seat belt, and loosened his tie. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Kate waited a moment before saying, "Dylan? Do you remember I told you I couldn't think of anyone who would want to kill me?"

A hint of a smile softened his expression. "I remember."

"I believe I could come up with some names for you now."