Every Little Piece of Him Read online

  A driver's license—with a current address which matched what he'd told her. He had a debit card but no credit cards. Sixty-four dollars in order from large bills to small, all facing the same way. Two condoms.

  That was it. Nothing told her about the piece of paper.

  If Mark and Quint had something happen to them, too, Anders would've told her. Wouldn't he?

  Feeling nauseous, she put Will's belongings on the couch and used her phone to pull up the contact number for Anders. Her finger hovered over calling him. She shouldn't have looked at the paper. It was folded and an invasion of privacy. Will probably hadn't meant for anyone to read it. He hadn't known he'd get hurt and his clothes would be taken off him.

  She tossed the phone to the side of her on the couch and chewed her bottom lip. Anders would be home soon.

  Her stomach gnawed, and she slouched on the couch. Something was wrong.

  If Will kept notes of her motorhome exploding, Anders getting shot on the mountain, and if other bad things happened to Quint and Mark, that meant there was something bad going on in the mountains, and she'd been right about the police needing to know.

  Changing her mind, she called Anders.

  Chapter 36

  Anders barely stepped a foot into Stone Lair, and Mac rushed him. He could see by his managers agitated movements with his hands that something was wrong.

  "Mr. Stone." Mac stopped in front of him and lowered his voice. "Three slot machines are out of order. I've called the service company, and they can't get a tech out here until tomorrow. The beer delivery is not going to make it today because of the weather."

  "That's unacceptable. Tomorrow is Friday." He continued walking to the bar, forcing Mac to keep up with him. "Call into the outlet in Missoula and see if we can have one of our employees pick up at least half the delivery. Call the service department again and tell them I said to get their asses out here. Don't let them give you the runaround that we're too far out for them to send anyone immediately."

  "But, Mr. Stone—"

  "Do it." He stopped outside the doorway leading to the upstairs. "Is there anything else?"

  "The weather report is calling for ten inches of snow tonight." Mac looked down at his phone. "The occupants of Cabin Two would like to pay for another night, and we have reservations in place already."

  "Reservations come first." He looked at Mac. "Now, if we're done here. I don't want to be disturbed for the next hour."

  "Absolutely, Mr. Stone."

  Anders closed himself off from everything having to do with the Lair and took the stairs two at a time. He'd been on his way back when Iliana called about finding a piece of paper in Will's jeans and asking if Mark and Quint were also shot at or hurt in an accident recently.

  Making up an excuse to get off the phone, he told her they'd talk when he got back and that he was busy driving and paying attention to the road. Then, he'd pulled over and called the others. His last call to Will provided the answers he needed.

  Will knew better than to write anything that happened to them down where someone else could read into the situation. Now he had to face Iliana.

  He opened the door.

  Iliana stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, cupping her elbows. He slowed his steps and recognized the truth in her frightened eyes. She'd pieced together enough to know that he and the others weren't living normal lives.

  That from her view, they each had been hurt. It was up to him to relieve her worries.

  "You need to tell me what is going on." She stayed by the fireplace.

  He stopped at the side of the couch. There were a million reasons why he should lie and only one reason to tell her the truth.

  If he opened his mouth and spilled everything out, he'd put everyone in jeopardy of being arrested, and he'd still lose her.

  She sank down onto the hearth as if the non-existent fire would take the chill out of the room.

  "I don't know what you're talking about." He moved around the corner of the couch and sat down. "On the phone, you weren't making sense."

  He needed more time. Time to come up with a convincing story that would put her mind at ease.

  She pointed to the end table. "On that paper are the dates of the motorhome being blown up with the initial I. There's also the date you were shot at on the mountain with the initial A. I'm assuming Q and M stand for Quint and Mark. What happened to them and why does Will have a list of bad things happening that have nothing to do with him?"

  He picked up the paper. Damn, Will.

  These were only the latest dates they were all staying aware of. At Will's home, he probably had a damn spreadsheet listing every crime for the last twenty-five years.

  "The only thing I can think of is I had talked to Will before we headed out on the snowmobiles about the explosion, and he knew about my injury." He rubbed his jaw. "One of those other dates was probably when we all agreed to go over to Quint's place. The other date I don't recognize, but maybe Will met with Mark or something."

  "You're trying to tell me the list is some kind of schedule for Will or info of his discussions with others?" She frowned. "I feel like I’m going crazy."

  He shrugged. "You'd have to ask Will what it's all about. I know, I have an office full of notes where I've jotted dates and info down, and I couldn't tell you what most of them mean, but they meant something at the time, even if they were things I'd scribbled down while on the phone for no reason other than to do something while I listened to the conversation."

  Iliana looked away from him. When he'd walked into the room, he hadn't known what to tell her. The omission of the truth came easily.

  He would do anything to make sure she was comfortable living with him. She had nothing to fear from him. He would protect her from others, and if that meant avoiding the truth and having her believe his life was near perfect, he'd create that illusion for her.

  He got up from the couch and approached her, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. His avoidance had nothing to do with how they felt toward each other.

  "Now, tell me why this has you all upset?" He gathered her to his chest.

  "There have been too many bad things going on." She tilted her face. "The motorhome. You. Will. I think something more is happening."

  "Don't worry about—"

  "I feel like you're keeping something from me." She pulled away from him. "I didn't want to start a fight or get into Will's business, but the more I think about things happening on the mountain and the explosion here, the more concerned I am. I don't believe in coincidences, and now you're going to think I'm just nagging you because all of our fights have been about—"

  "Il." He widened his stance. "I've told you—"

  "Stop it. You're telling me what you want me to believe." She shook her head. "You're killing me, Anders."

  "I don't know what I'm doing that is getting you upset?"

  She looked away and put her hand on her forehead. "I can't look at you right now and think straight."

  "Think about what?" Frustrated over his inability to control the situation, he stepped toward her. "You're getting pissed over a piece of paper that belonged to Will, not me."

  "And, you got shot," snapped Iliana, pointing at her eyes. "Do you not see how abnormal that is?"

  "Hunters—"

  "Oh, bullshit." She groaned in anger. "I can't believe it took me that long to see through what you're doing. You excused the explosion. Even the police took it more seriously than you and went looking for the arsonist. Then, you had me believing that a tree branch injured your arm. Now, Will's seriously hurt, and you act like it's just another day for you. What really happened up on that mountain?"

  He clamped his teeth, quickly realizing he was losing her.

  She walked past him. "God, I feel like I'm going insane."

  Iliana became smaller. Her shoulders came forward and she crossed her arms, holding herself together. He held himself in check, feeling his nostrils flare as his breathing accelerated. He fis
ted his hands, hating the way he hurt her.

  Panic kept him from overexplaining. He needed her to stay. "I need to go downstairs and check in with Mac and do..."

  Hell, he had nothing to do. Nothing he wanted to do but force her to stay upstairs.

  To keep her from leaving, he'd go.

  Iliana let him go out the door. On the other side, his chin hit his chest, and he stopped, taking his phone out of his pocket. Will had fucked up. He hoped like hell a phone call explaining the damn list would stop Iliana from digging deeper into the accidents.

  Chapter 37

  "Writing things down comes with the job. I've got people who reserve dates a year in advance and need travel plans before their expedition. Since most of my contact with them before they arrive is done over the phone, I've gotten in the habit of writing down the things I need to put on the calendar when I'm back in my office," said Will over the phone.

  Iliana stared into the fire. "But, you put the date that my motorhome exploded."

  "Yeah. Anders mentioned the fire while I was trying to plan another time we could get together and ride the snowmobiles. I must've added it to an old list I had when I met Quint and Mark for a beer." Will paused. "Thanks for saving my wallet. I wasn't looking forward to going in and getting another license."

  Sick to her stomach over fearing the worst and her argument with Anders, she pressed her fingertips to her temple. "I'll have Anders mail it to you."

  "Uh, just hang on to it. I'll pick it up or have someone else do it for me within the next couple of days."

  "Did Anders ask you to call me?" she asked, unable to resist knowing.

  Will's hesitation gave her the answer before he said, "Yeah."

  Stifling her sigh, she disconnected and called her sister. She needed to talk, but she had no idea what to say. Through all the bitch fests and sob parties she'd been a participate in when her sister and Tom first started dating, Sofia owed her.

  Though Sofia and Tom's problems seemed simple compared to Anders getting shot and the accidents happening. But, the more she sat here worrying over her problems, her imagination went wild. She'd even wondered if Anders was involved in the mob, considering he owned a casino.

  She was grasping for answers that were believable. All her concerns seemed to be swept under the rug and unimportant to Anders. She couldn't help feeling like he kept things from her. Rational or irrational, she couldn't ignore the feeling she had.

  "Hey, sister mine," answered Sofia. "What's up?"

  Having someone care and be willing to talk broke her. Tears clouded her vision.

  "Iliana?"

  A sob escaped. "I'm so confused."

  "About what? Are you okay?"

  "Yes." She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again. "No. I just argued with Anders."

  "First one?"

  "No, but it was bad."

  "Talk," said her sister.

  She groaned. "My motorhome blew up, and Anders was shot—not shot, but grazed. His arm, I mean."

  "Whoa, slow down. Someone shot Anders?"

  "Yes. He said it was a hunter's stray bullet but I don't know because at the beginning of this week, his friend, Will, was hurt while snowmobiling on the same mountain trail." Once she let her thoughts out, they poured freely from her head.

  She told her sister everything and then about Will calling with a really good explanation and how stupid she felt, but couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was happening. By the time she finished, she was on the floor, curled up on the bear skin rug, with the phone pressed against her ear.

  "I don't want to lose him, but he needs to open up more to me," she whispered.

  "Then, don't make decisions before thinking everything through and make sure you listen to what he has to say. Tom isn't always the easiest guy to talk to and sometimes what he wants to say comes out in stupid ways, but I didn't learn that until I'd known him for a couple of years. From first impressions of Anders, he's even quieter than Tom, and you've mentioned he grew up in an orphanage, I doubt if he's ever had a good example of what a relationship is supposed to be like. I think you need to give him time."

  She sniffed. "You don't think all the bad things happening is more than what I'm being told?"

  "I don't know. The police were involved in the arson, and they never alerted you to the crime being personal against you or Anders. People who live in the Bitterroot Mountains live in their own world where it's ungovernable, and they make due tby policing each other from what I've always heard. I'm leaning toward believing Anders because from what you've mentioned, he wasn't overly concerned at being shot and any normal person would totally freak if they believed someone was trying to hurt or kill them."

  She hadn't noticed Anders being scared to go to the mountain or around the customers in the Lair. Nothing had changed.

  "I guess." She propped her head up on her hand. "I feel stupid now for going off on him, but I don't think he realizes how much he means to me. It feels like I've had my heart crushed all day."

  "That's love," said Sofia.

  "Love hurts," she sang, singing the next line in the song.

  "There you go, sing it next time you're scheduled to perform and get it out of your system." Her sister laughed.

  "Seriously, I don't know why I have this need to know everything about him. It drives me crazy if I think he's not telling me something, just to protect me. I want to share everything with him. The good stuff and the bad, but he's such a strong man and used to doing everything on his own."

  "That's the kind of man you've always been attracted to," said her sister.

  "True, and now that I finally found that man it's hard." The band around her middle loosened, giving her a bigger breath of air. "Thanks for talking me off the ledge."

  "Anytime. I still owe you for all the years you listened to me." Sofia snorted. "Go make-up with him and have awesome sex. You'll feel better."

  "I'll try." She sat up. "I better go."

  "Talk to you later."

  Disconnecting the call, she pushed to her feet and tucked her phone in her pocket. Blowing out her breath, she went into the bathroom, washed her face, put a coat of mascara on her spiked eyelashes, and brushed her hair. Her body still reeled from the added stress.

  Her legs were weak, and if she laid on the bed, she'd be asleep in no time.

  Satisfied that no one could tell she'd spent the last two hours crying, she went downstairs to find Anders. More confident since talking to Sofia, she reminded herself to stop letting her worries dominate and listen to Anders better and not just take what he says or doesn't say to heart.

  They were two very different people. She used conversations and singing to express herself. He showed his feelings by actions. Thank God he had invited her up for a glass of wine that first night and let her talk because it was the start of something beautiful and consuming.

  His confidence and lack of small talk were what attracted her. He was a mystery. Someone big and strong that made her feel treasured and admired.

  She'd forgotten what she loved in her fear that something would happen to him.

  Walking downstairs, she entered the bar. She stood against the wall, looking around. The dinner crowd already filled the room.

  Not seeing Anders, she walked around the tables toward the entryway. Two male customers called her name. She smiled and waved, recognizing them as regulars, though she'd never caught their names.

  "Good evening, Ms. Iliana." Maddie, the roving drink server, smiled in passing.

  Distracted by others, she turned around and made sure she hadn't missed Anders in the crowd. She really wanted to find him and apologize for getting upset.

  She'd overreacted, and it was important that he learn she tended to freak out when she thought someone she loved could be in danger. At the moment, he was probably sick of her always overreacting.

  Turning around, careful not to run into anyone, she passed through the entryway of Stone Lair and headed to the casino.


  The brighter lights and noise rejuvenated her. She scanned the room, walking between the rows of slot machines. Her search came up empty.

  Not giving up, she went to the employees' break room. Opening the door to a dark room, she moved her hand along the wall looking for the light switch. There was only one other place Anders would be, and she could get to the pole building the fastest by going out the back door.

  Letting the door close, she used both her hands to search for the switch. Her hip bumped into a large object, and she stopped.

  A cold hand covered her mouth. She jerked, and her body slammed against a hard force, unable to move. Screaming through the cover on her mouth, she stilled as her feet left the ground.

  "Don't make a sound."

  She fought harder recognizing the voice.

  Chapter 38

  The door rattled. Anders looked up from working on one of the snowmobiles and found Mark and Quint entering the pole building.

  He straightened. "What are you two doing here?"

  "You left a text." Mark frowned. "Said you wanted everyone over here immediately. What's up?"

  He tossed the wrench to the top of the rollaway. "I didn't send you any message."

  "Yeah, you did. Two-crow is on his way to pick up Will. They got the same text." Quint pulled his cell out of his coat pocket and handed it over to Anders.

  Stone: Come prepared. Going up on the mountain. It's time.

  He shook his head and handed the phone back. "I didn't send that."

  "It came from your phone." Mark looked around the building. "You're working on the snowmobiles. Were you going up on the mountain alone?"

  "I didn't send the text." His irritation made him short-tempered.

  He'd escaped the Lair to come out here and work off some steam after hurting Iliana. Distancing himself was the only way to keep from going back to her and confessing his past and giving her the answers that she sought.

  "Will just texted and said Two-crow hasn't shown up." Mark typed on his phone. "I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he was fifteen minutes away from Will's house."