Donovans - Pearl Cove Part 4

"Just... days."

Old habits were hard to break. Especially when he could all but taste the fear in Hannah's desperately level voice. The quality of the connection told him that she was using a cellular phone, open to anyone who cared enough to eavesdrop. So he didn't ask her where or how or why Len had died.

"I'm sorry," Archer said softly. "That's not adequate, but in the face of death, no words are. I'll be there no later than noon tomorrow, your time, earlier if at all possible."

Hannah's fingers loosened a bit on the thin, vaguely oblong plastic body of the cellular phone. All she could think of was that Archer understood everything she hadn't said. "I... thank you."

Archer knew he shouldn't ask, but the words were out before he could stop them. "Are you all right?"

She s.h.i.+vered, remembering Len's stripped, battered body and sightless eyes, and Chang's warning: Cyclone season is coming. Don't follow Len into the grave.

"Hannah?"

"Hurry, Archer. I'm getting... sleepy."

The quality of the sound changed, telling him that she had disconnected. He didn't bother cursing the empty line. If someone had a lock on her cellular, she was safer not talking at all.

He punched in one of Donovan International's unlisted numbers, the one Donovan executives called when things started to go from sugar to s.h.i.+t. No matter what time it was, someone would answer this number.

"This is Archer Donovan," he said. "Put me through to someone who can get me to Broome, Australia, no later than noon tomorrow. Shave every minute you can."

"Noon U.S or Australian time?" asked a woman's voice.

"Australian."

"Where are you now?"

"Seattle."

"Thank you. One moment, please."

It was more than one moment, but at least he was spared any canned music. He waited quietly, not showing the urgency riding him or the adrenaline licking in his blood, called by the fear that even Hannah's smoky voice couldn't conceal. He simply held the phone and made a list of things that had to be done before he landed in Australia. Some could be handled from the plane. The important things couldn't.

Kyle Donovan was in for a rude awakening.

"Thank you for waiting," said a man's voice. "None of the Donovan International aircraft can get you from Seattle to Australia in your time frame. We have chartered a jet from Boeing Field to Hawaii. A company jet will meet you there. Our files show that your Australian visa is up-to-date."

Archer's pa.s.sport was never mentioned. People in Donovan International would sooner take up nude ice-climbing than let their pa.s.sport lapse.

"Are you at the Donovan family suite in Seattle?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"A car will pick you up in half an hour. A rental car has been reserved in Broome. Will there be anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Good work."

"That's what you pay me for, mate," the man said, allowing his native Australia to color his voice for the first time.

Archer hit the disconnect and headed for the door that led to the family areas of the Donovan suites. Kyle and Lianne were in town to celebrate Donald Donovan's birthday. Jake and Honor were due in this afternoon. Archer regretted missing his sister and her husband, but not as much as he regretted having to tell The Donovan that Len McGarry was dead. Happy Birthday, Dad. And by the way, the son who hated you is dead.

Grimfaced, Archer started knocking on the door to Kyle's suite. Moments later, it opened. The person who opened the door wasn't Kyle, who wouldn't get out of bed before nine o'clock for anything but a dawn salmon-fis.h.i.+ng raid. His wife, however, didn't need a kick-start to get going. Mussed with sleep, wearing a navy man's T-s.h.i.+rt that came to her knees, six months pregnant with twins, looking like a grumpy Munchkin, Lianne stood in the open door. One look at Archer's face had her wide-awake.

"What's wrong?" she asked quickly. "Is "

"It's nothing you need to worry about," he cut in quickly. "Everyone you love is just fine. Get your husband's lazy a.s.s out of bed. I need him."

"It's four-fifteen!"

"I know what time it is. Get Kyle or let me do it." With an effort, Archer gentled his voice. "It's all right, Lianne. I just need his computer magic right now. I'll be in the kitchen making coffee. Or do you want me to wrestle him out of bed for you?"

"Any bed-wrestling Kyle does will be with me. Make enough coffee for three."

The door closed before Archer could thank his sister-in-law, or even pat the taut mound of her stomach where another generation of Donovans was doing lazy backflips.

By the time Archer had coffee and Canadian bacon made, Kyle wandered into the kitchen wearing navy shorts and a hairy chest. Archer handed his youngest brother a mug of well-creamed coffee and turned back to the pancakes that were just beginning to firm on the griddle. With Kyle, there was no point in trying to talk until the first cup of coffee and sometimes the second or third had burned through the morning fog that pa.s.sed for his brain.

Lianne was more alert. She was still wearing Kyle's T-s.h.i.+rt, the one that celebrated the hazards of men who went fly-fis.h.i.+ng naked. She pushed long, black hair out of her face, poured her own coffee, sugared it, and scooted in next to Kyle in the breakfast nook without saying a word to her husband. Early in their relations.h.i.+p, she had decided that there was only one thing Kyle was good for in the first few minutes after waking up, and she didn't need a witness for that. Sipping coffee, she looked at Seattle's glittering lights spread against the utter black of a November morning.

Kyle took his second cup without cream, drank it down, shuddered, and held out his cup for more without looking at Archer. Halfway into the third cup, he raked his fingers through his blond hair, straightened, and clicked into focus. "Where's the fire?" he asked irritably. "If there was a fire, you'd be toast by now," Archer said. "Yeahyeahyeah. This better be good."

"A half brother you never knew just died." As Archer spoke, he flipped pancakes onto a warm plate.

Kyle's green-and-gold eyes narrowed to slits. It took him less than two heartbeats to realize that his brother was serious. "Jesus."

"I doubt that religion had anything to do with it. Len McGarry wasn't a churchgoing man." Archer put the pancake plate in the oven and poured more batter onto the griddle.

"Half brother. Holy s.h.i.+t." Kyle looked into his coffee and took a slow, deep breath. "Dad or Mom?"

"Dad. Before he met Mom."

"How do you know?"

"Long story. I don't have time for it and it doesn't matter now. Just don't say anything to The Donovan or Susa," Archer added, using his parents' nicknames. "I'll tell Dad when I know more. He can tell Mom whatever he wants."

"Was The Donovan married before?" Lianne asked. "No."

She winced. "I hope being raised a b.a.s.t.a.r.d was easier on your half brother than it was on me."

"Len wouldn't know easy if it walked up and tied a knot in his p.e.c.k.e.r," Archer said, putting a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of his sister-in-law. "Eat. You're too thin to be carrying that big mutt's children."

"Thin?" she asked, outraged. "Archer, I could barely get into the breakfast nook!"

"We run to twins, sugar," he said, smiling at her. It was one of his rare smiles, the kind that made people want to get closer rather than to look for the nearest exit.

"Who are you calling sugar?" Kyle asked, rubbing Lianne's belly and eyeing her plate of food at the same time.

"Not you, fish breath. There's nothing sweet about you in the morning." Archer pulled a plate out of the oven and shoved food under Kyle's nose. "Feed your nerd cells. I need them."

"Talk to me." Kyle picked up the syrup and began pouring generously. "I can listen and eat at the same time."

"About two this morning, Len's widow, Hannah McGarry, called and told me he was dead. Her voice told me a lot more. She's scared down to the soles of her elegant feet."

Something in Archer's tone made Kyle stop shoveling in food and look at his brother. Elegant feet?

Archer didn't notice his brother's glance. His eyes were narrowed, more gray than green, with not a hint of the blue that sunlight and sky could bring out. He was focused on a past only he could see.

"She was calling on an open line," he said, "so I didn't ask questions and she didn't offer answers. I told her I'd be in Broome by noon tomorrow."

"Broome? In Australia?" Lianne asked.

Archer nodded.

"Pearls," Kyle said instantly.

Archer nodded again. "Len and I are were partners in a pearl-culturing venture. Pearl Cove Farms."

"I didn't know that," Kyle said.

Archer didn't answer. There was a lot about his past that his family didn't know. He planned on keeping it that way. If he could have wiped some of the memories from his own brain, he would have. But he couldn't, so he lived with them and did whatever it took to make sure that no one else had to.

"Normal spelling on Pearl Cove Farms?" Kyle asked, already organizing the computer search in his mind.

"Yes."

"Is it a registered business?"

"Licensed, taxed to the max, and all but one form duly filed," Archer said.

"Which one?"

"The partners.h.i.+p agreement."

"Why?"

"Len's choice. I didn't care. But the partners.h.i.+p will stand up in court, here or there, if that's what you're worried about."

"What do you want from me?"

"Everything you can get electronically on Hannah McGarry."

Archer slid into the opposite side of the breakfast nook. His knees b.u.mped Kyle's. Archer was older by four years and a timeless amount of experience, but Kyle was every bit as large physically.

"What about Len?" Kyle asked. "You want me to go after him while I'm at it?"

"Sure, get what you can. Pearl Cove, too."

"You got me up before dawn to do what any hacker could do?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you aren't any hacker. You're my brother and Len's half brother. You won't leave any tracks, you'll keep your mouth shut about what you find, and you won't be tempted by bribes or blackmail. And if it gets really nasty..." Archer shrugged. Kyle, for all his blond good looks, could fight for his life. And had.

"Why don't I like the sound of that last bit?" Lianne asked beneath her breath.

"Because you know how nasty family fights can be," Archer said.

"Family?" Kyle asked.

"Len," Archer said curtly. "He's dead, but whatever s...o...b..ll he pushed off the mountain is still rolling. And I have a nasty feeling that his widow is standing right in the center of the avalanche chute."

"So you're flying halfway around the world to stand there with her?"

"I'd do the same for Lianne."

Kyle blinked, then sighed. "Sorry. I'm just not used to having another brother, much less a sister-in-law to worry about. You're right. She's family." He gave Lianne a sideways glance. "Will the Tang family give me a rain check on "

"No," Archer said instantly. "You're staying here."

"Wrong. I'm going to Australia. As you pointed out, Len was my brother, too."

"You didn't know him. I did."

Lianne's tilted, cognac eyes went from brother to brother. Though one man was dark and one was light, both were stubborn to the core.

"If you go, I go," she said to Kyle.

"No," the brothers said as one.

"Why is it," she asked sweetly, "that every time you two agree on something, I'm the loser? Like h.e.l.l I'm staying here."

"You're both staying here," Archer said. "If I need anyone, you'll be the first to know."

"d.a.m.n it " Kyle began.

"No." Archer's voice was cold and deadly. Like his eyes. It was the very part of himself he had tried to keep from his family. "Don't push me on this, Kyle. Neither one of us will like what happens. But it will happen just the same."

Beneath the table Lianne's small hand settled on her husband's thigh and squeezed with surprising strength, silently asking him to use his head on this one instead of his b.a.l.l.s. Slowly the tension seeped out of Kyle's clenched muscles.

"We'll try it your way first," Kyle said finally. "If that doesn't work "

"You'll do whatever it takes," Archer finished, hearing his own words from the past, seeing some of his own dark shadows in his brother's eyes. Silently Archer held his hand across the table, but he held it as someone looking for contact rather than a handshake.

Kyle took his brother's hand. They both gripped hard. "Thank you," Archer said simply. He slid out of the booth, turned to Lianne, and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. "You're good for him, little sister. For us."

Kyle watched his brother walk out of the warm yellow light of the kitchen. When he turned to Lianne, he was surprised to find tears in her eyes.