TO HOLD AN EAGLE Read online

  He leaned over and sniffed appreciatively. "Sounds great. Beats MREs all hollow."

  "MREs?"

  "Meals Ready to Eat. Field rations. If I never see another vacuum-packed hot dog, it'll be too soon."

  She looked over her shoulder at him, making a grimace of distaste. "Sounds awful."

  "It ain't good." He'd never realized the galley was so small before. Just like he'd never realized the head was so small, until he'd found her huddled naked in a corner of it. And at the memory, that sudden heat flared through him again. "I'll clear that stuff off the table," he said hastily, "and get some plates."

  "I'll do that." She smiled again, but she sounded a little breathless. "This kitchen—er, galley—literally isn't big enough for the both of us."

  "Right," Linc said, backing away, trying not to admit how much he'd been enjoying the close quarters. Trying not to admit how much he liked the brush of her body against his. Or that he liked just watching her intent on something other than the cloud that hovered over her. And trying to ignore the sarcastic little voice in his mind that was reminding him that he'd had the perfect chance to ease this ache she caused in him, and he'd turned it down.

  Linc found and opened a bottle of white wine someone had given him before he'd set sail and filled two of the practical, shipboard plastic wineglasses. He had questions to ask, and he wanted her relaxed enough to answer them. Despite what she thought, she'd proven herself observant and perceptive, and he didn't want to have to break through her protestations of knowing nothing to get what he needed.

  The meal began in silence, but with each glance at the folder that now lay to one side, Chandra's unease seemed to increase. Linc refilled her wineglass. She took a long sip.

  "Your sister's not like I expected."

  He knew she was stalling, but, he decided, talking is talking, and they could start here. "She's not superwoman, you mean?"

  Chandra blushed. "Something like that. I mean, she's not as … intimidating as I thought she'd be. She's … nice."

  "I know." He studied her for a moment. "You were wrong about Shy, Channie. Maybe you're wrong about yourself, too. Maybe you're not the coward you think you are."

  The color that had risen in her face faded. She lowered her eyes to her plate. "Coward or incompetent, it doesn't make much difference in the long run, does it?" She shrugged. "But at least I … I don't think it's all my fault anymore."

  "Channie—"

  "I mean, I couldn't help being this way, could I? First my father, then Daniel…"

  "You couldn't help believing what they told you, Channie. That doesn't make it true."

  She didn't answer, just stared at the last few grains of rice on her plate. If she thought her supposed incompetence wasn't her fault, it was a step in the right direction. A small step, it was true, but a step, nevertheless, and Linc had to be satisfied with that. Without that small step, she would never realize that her self-image was just that, an image. And she could never find the reality he sensed was beneath that poor image until she knew that.

  "I know this will be unpleasant for you," he said after a few minutes of silence, "but I have to know about Daniel."

  He saw her shiver, then straighten her shoulders. "I'll try," she said. "But I don't see what I can tell you that will help."

  "Let's start with that night at the restaurant again."

  "But I already told you—"

  "I know. But tell me again. And this time I want every little detail."

  "But—"

  "All of it, Channie. How did you get to the restaurant? Did Al meet you there or at your house? Was your husband there when he got there? Did he take anything with him?"

  "Would you like to know what I wore, too?" Chandra interrupted him sharply, in the tone of one who doesn't at all see the point of this.

  Linc hid his surprise at her sharpness; he was afraid any reaction would have her apologizing for it, this first self-protective anger she'd shown, and he didn't want that. She had a right to it, she had a right to be furiously angry, and it warmed him that maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to see that.

  "Yes," he said calmly. "What did you wear?"

  She stared at him, disbelieving. He stared back, unwaveringly. He knew if he made her remember the little details like that, it could trigger memories of other things, things that might give him a clue about how to approach Daniel Lansing.

  "I … a blue dress," she said at last, as if she'd realized he truly wanted an answer.

  "What else?"

  She blushed. "Heels. The diamond necklace and earrings Daniel bought when he bought the dress."

  "He bought it?"

  "Yes. He picked out most of the clothes I wore … for dinners with business associates."

  Linc caught the tight little note of humiliation in her voice, and a sickening certainty flooded him.

  "Sexy clothes?"

  She lowered her eyes, her color deepening. "He thought so. Short. Very short. And low cut, so I couldn't wear anything under it. He said he liked to … show me off."

  Linc's stomach knotted. A memory came to him suddenly, vividly, of Chandra staring at him in surprise, saying It's not in the least bit sexy.

  "That's why you picked that bathing suit, isn't it? The one you had on?"

  She didn't look up, but he saw her mouth twist bitterly. "Daniel hated that suit. He wouldn't let me wear it around him. He said he hadn't married me so I could hide the one thing that made me worth having around. 'If you've got it, flaunt it,' was his motto."

  "So he flaunted you," Linc said, his hand clenching around the stem of his wineglass until he had to consciously relax his fingers before it snapped.

  Chandra shrugged. "He owned me. He said it was his right." Her effort at casualness faltered. "He used to make me… Those men he brought to our house, or took out to dinner, he made me … distract them, he called it. He used to laugh about it, telling me just how I should lean forward in front of them … in those dresses—"

  She crossed her arms in front of her, as if to shield herself, to hide the full curves already covered by her shirt and Shy's jacket.

  "Bastard." It came out short, sharp and angry, and it made Chandra look up quickly. "Channie, how could you let him do that to you? He had no right! No one has the right to do that to another person. No one!"

  Chandra stared at him wonderingly, as if she'd never seen an angry man before. Or perhaps, Linc thought grimly, she'd never seen one angry on her behalf before. He let out a long, harsh breath.

  "I know," he said when he could trust his voice again, "you didn't think you were worth any better treatment. God, I'd like to find those parents of yours and … and…"

  He took a large swallow of his wine in frustration as words strong enough failed him, then slammed the glass down so hard the remainder sloshed out on the table. Chandra followed the furious movement of his arm, and stared at the glass. An odd expression came over her face, and Linc thought ruefully that he'd frightened her again.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "It just makes me—"

  "No," Chandra said softly, still staring at the glass. "I was just thinking about that night, at dinner. Daniel wasn't usually clumsy, but he knocked over Al's wineglass. There was a big fuss, and I thought Daniel would be angry. He always tries to blame things like that on someone else."

  Like you, Linc guessed, but said only, "But he didn't get angry?"

  "No. He just picked the glass up, wiped it off with his napkin, and poured Al more wine."

  Linc went suddenly very still. And Chandra stared at him, wide-eyed. "My God," she breathed. "Do you think he … put something in it?"

  "I think he made himself the perfect opportunity," Linc said grimly. "And God knows he certainly has access to just about anything he might want in the way of drugs."

  "But … wouldn't the police find out? I mean, there was an autopsy. I know there was, because Daniel was upset that they wouldn't release the body right away for the funeral—" Her voice trailed off as
the other explanation for her husband's haste came to her.

  "The police would only take notice if it was something unexpected, or an illegal substance. You said Al fell asleep. Any number of things could induce that, without looking particularly suspicious, especially if they're mixed with alcohol." He looked at her steadily. "You were on that in an instant. Still think you're a naive little fool, Channie?"

  She stared at him, her eyes wide and clear and blue. And just for an instant, he saw something that looked like hope flash in them; it warmed him to the core.

  "Someday," he told her softly, "you're going to have to take a real hard look at yourself. The real you, not what you've always been told is you."

  "I … I'm scared…"

  "Of course you are. It's a new idea for you. But think about it. Your father, your husband. Think about what they are, then think about whether you're going to let men like that determine who and what you are. Think about whether they have the right to tell you what your limits are. Whether anyone does."

  That flash of hope in her eyes changed to wonder, and he added in gentle tones, "You're worth more, Chandra. Much more than you realize."

  She shook her head as if numbed, and Linc guessed she'd had enough for the moment. He quickly changed the subject.

  "Tell me about Al Cleary."

  "I didn't really know him that well. I mean, I'd met him a few times, but always with Daniel, so I never really spoke to him alone much. He seemed nice. He was always very polite. But then, people were always polite around Daniel. I think they were afraid not to be, even when he was being a—"

  "Yeah," Linc said wryly. "I can guess. Was Al married?"

  "Divorced. He was pretty much a loner, I think. A workaholic. And a perfectionist, from what Daniel said."

  "Kids?"

  "He never mentioned any, at least not when I was around. But he probably wouldn't have, anyway. Daniel had no patience for that kind of small talk. That's why that last night was so odd, him telling Al not to talk business. Daniel never wanted to talk anything but business."

  "So what did Al talk about?"

  Her brow furrowed. "Running, mostly, I think. Al was a runner, and he was trying to work up to a marathon. He ran every morning, he said, with some friends."

  Linc nodded thoughtfully, then picked up the file he'd set aside. "This says Lansing's on a thin edge, financially. WestCorp's analyst thinks they've expanded too rapidly."

  "Daniel always wanted it to be the biggest." Her mouth twisted slightly. "He didn't care much about the best, he just wanted the biggest."

  "Well, it looks like he overdid it. Without that big influx of cash, their days were numbered. That announcement really saved them."

  "That contemptible lie, you mean," she said, so harshly he looked at her in surprise. And saw what he'd been hoping for; another spurt of anger tightening her soft mouth. Her blue eyes were bright now; he only wished her temper could be so easily roused in her own defense. And he determinedly quashed that part of him that was eagerly wondering what those eyes would look like roused to passion instead of anger.

  "Do you know anything about a lawsuit brought against Lansing Pharmaceutical by another company? Something about a new anticoagulant drug?"

  The anger faded, and she bit her lip as she thought. Linc watched white, even teeth worry that soft, full flesh, and felt a chill ripple down his spine, followed by a slow billow of heat that pooled somewhere low and deep, tightening his body, making him hard and heavy and aching. And again he tried to beat back the ache, the ache that had become a near-constant companion now, ready to spring to life at the mere sight of her doing such a simple thing. And ready to burst into flame at these first signs of the spirit he'd sensed was buried beneath the meek exterior.

  "Yes," she said suddenly, and Linc had to rein in the senses that surged at the answer they'd wanted and remind them that that wasn't the question. "They accused Daniel of hiring a … a spy, I guess, to steal their formula."

  "It says here that the suit was dropped."

  She nodded. "I remember that. Daniel was gloating that afternoon, very proud of himself. He…"

  She trailed off, and Linc leaned forward intently, she wore the same expression she had when they'd first spoken of that fateful dinner.

  "What?" he urged. "Come on, Channie, you're doing great, don't stop now."

  "I … it's just that Daniel was bragging, about how the little guys shouldn't try to play with the big boys, and that these guys would find that out soon. I asked him what he meant, since the case had already been dropped." She lowered her eyes to the table. "He just said I should quit trying to figure out things that were beyond me, and concentrate on making sure I looked good for the party he was throwing that night, in celebration. But I read that the other company went out of business a couple of months later."

  "Damn him." It came out on a harsh, suppressed breath; she had sounded like her old, cowed self. Then he reached out and grabbed Chandra's hands. "Don't lose that anger, Channie. Hang on to it. Feed it. You should be angry. Quit thinking of him as invincible. He's not, I swear he's not. He's wrong if he thinks he's going to get away with this. He's wrong about the way the world is. And the bastard is wrong about you."

  Chandra lifted her gaze from his hands, clasped around hers, to his face. He saw the hope in her eyes, the desperate hunger to believe his words, the fragile flickering of spirit in the blue depths. The innocent spirit that had for so long been smothered, forcefully buried by first her father, then Daniel Lansing.

  Its very existence amazed him; she was more like Shiloh than like his mother, he thought. Shy had hung on to a basic, innocent faith that good would win over bad, hung on to it despite her own drive to face the bad with a cool competence. And Chandra, despite the best efforts of two domineering, arrogant men, had hung on to that same fragile faith, even when she had reason to doubt the good even existed.

  "We're going to beat him, Channie," he said softly. "And he's never going to have power over you again. Because you're going to take it away from him."

  "Oh, God, Linc, if only—"

  "No ifs. You're going to take yourself back, Channie. And when you do, you'll learn who you really are. And that nobody owns you except yourself."

  Linc released her hands and stood up, so suddenly that a tiny sound—of surprise or loss, he couldn't tell—escaped her. She watched him cross the cabin floor.

  "What are you going to do?"

  He stopped at the navigation station, reaching for the radiophone before he looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm going to call some people. Get some more information on Al Cleary."

  She looked puzzled. "How will that help?"

  "Because I'm about to become his best friend."

  "His what?"

  "His friend. A friend who's very curious about what happened to him. When does Lansing get home?"

  Chandra looked startled. "Late. Eight or nine, usually."

  He looked at her for a moment. "Fool," he said succinctly, then picked up the microphone. "Linc?"

  He gave the marine operator the number he wanted, then looked back at Chandra questioningly.

  "Why did you need to know when Daniel gets home?"

  "Because," Linc said coolly, "it's time to start this party. I'm going to call the bastard."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  Chandra tried to stop shaking, tried to halt the little quivers that rippled through her, but it was a useless effort. She tried to do as Linc had said, tried to hang on to the burst of anger that had sparked in her, but just knowing he was talking to Daniel chilled her until that anger was just a memory of heat. She wished she hadn't taken off Shy's jacket, but she was too frozen in her seat to move to put it back on.

  "Oh, I'm sure you're a busy man, Mr. Lansing," he was saying. "Al was always talking about how busy you were, wheeling and dealing, or whatever it is you do."

  Linc stopped for a moment, and Chandra wondered what Daniel had sai
d in response to the almost derogatory words.

  "But I'm sure you'll think this is worth your time," Linc said. "And surely you have a moment for a friend of your top chemist, don't you?" He gave a perfectly calculated sigh. "It's hard to believe he's gone. And so stupidly."

  Even knowing in advance he was going to pose as a friend of Al's, it still amazed her how easily he played the role, tossing in bits of information he'd gained from her and his friend in Washington, D.C., as casually as if he really had known Al for years.

  "You know, they told me it was an accident, that Al had taken too heavy a dose of an antihistamine, then had too much wine. That the combination just put him to sleep, and he hit that light pole. Now you'd think that, being a chemist, Al would know better than to mix something like that with alcohol, wouldn't you?"

  Chandra held her breath when Linc paused, wondering again what Daniel was saying. Linc had told her of the autopsy results, that a high level of a common, over the counter antihistamine had been found in Al's system, along with the wine he'd had at dinner.

  "Why, I'm not insinuating anything, Mr. Lansing. I just think it's very strange that Al would take anything like that. Especially since he wasn't sick. I had just talked to him the day before, and he was fine. Looking forward to our run in the morning. Yet I read in the paper that you said he'd been sick for days."

  She had told Linc she hadn't noticed any sign of Al having a cold that night. And she remembered specifically, because she had thought it odd after hearing Daniel telling someone on the phone, before Al's arrival, that Al had been ill, and this would be his first night out in nearly a week. Only as she had said it had she realized Daniel had once again been planning ahead, preparing the scenario.

  "My God, he did do it, didn't he?" she'd whispered. "He made up that story about him having had a cold to cover for it, to make it look like an accident, then put the stuff in Al's wine."

  And now Linc was using it, as cool as could be, trying to rattle Daniel's sense of security. She wished she knew if he was taking the bait.