Tossing her bag in the back, she climbed in and turned to him. She had a plastic container in her hand.
“I come bearing goodies.” She cracked the plastic lid and waved the container beneath his nose.
“Do I smell brownies?”
“Yes!” she merrily hooted. “From Mrs. Hayashi.” She inhaled the delicious scent and sniggered. “The lady makes a mean pot brownie. Mr. H has a medical card. Cancer,” she growled. “These are standard-issue,” Summer assured him, not that he planned on turning down the treat either way. Brownies were his Hansel and Gretel crumbs. He’d walk naked for a mile over hot coals if a warm homemade brownie waited at the finish line.
He tried to reach for the container, but she smacked his hand away. “You have to earn one of these babies!”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t believe the way his insides jumped for joy.
“Yes. And it won’t be easy, mister, so ixnay on the cocky grin.”
“Are you going to hold it on your lap?”
“Precious cargo.” Summer laughed with a twinkle in her eyes and a cheeky smile.
He floored it to the hotel, pulled up to the valet stand, and stood on the brakes. The squealing stop was an unnecessary but very amusing touch.
Tossing the keys at the approaching valet, he said, “Mariposa Suite. Please let them know the vehicle is back on-site.”
Yanking on the passenger door, he bowed gallantly and offered his hand to help her out. When she clutched his fingers and stood, he caught a whiff of her perfume.
“Grab my bag, would you?”
Arnie reached for the floral bag and hung the straps over his arm. He gathered her close with an arm around her waist and hustled her into the gorgeous hotel lobby with its red tile floor, archways, seating areas, and amazing Spanish tile ceiling.
They stopped at the front desk after one of the hotel managers waved to him. Summer told him to see what the guy wanted, and then she wandered away to look at a wedding photo display.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but there’s an updated agenda for tomorrow’s retreat.”
Arnie accepted the sheet of paper and scanned the changes. Granddad rescheduled the mandatory hay wagon tour of the flower farm and canceled the cocktail hour tomorrow evening.
He sneered at the paper. Canceling a Wanamaker booze schmooze meant their happy family gathering was fraying around the edges. Too much togetherness had a way of unleashing his family’s barely disguised tendency to behave like privileged morons.
“I love the pretty flower bag,” an unctuous voice cooed. “Such a good look for you, Darnell.”
Ice flowed into his veins at full force. He turned his head and glared at the personification of evil smirking at him.
Giselle.
Bile rose in his throat. He hated the woman with red-hot intensity.
“Fuck off and die.” Direct and straight to the point, and no, he didn’t give a shit if the hotel manager heard.
Without missing a beat, he turned to walk away, took four or five steps, and was stopped dead in his tracks when his father’s ex-wife stepped over the invisible line Arnie kept around his personal life.
“Got yourself a sweet young thing to defile, have you? At what playground did you find her? Does she know you’re a murdering asshole?”
He whirled around and just barely stopped from grabbing her by the throat. Her triumphant sneer enraged him.
Swooning over the gorgeous photo display, Summer had no trouble imagining a wedding at the beautiful hotel. Anything was possible, whether a beach service or something more formal.
Still holding the precious container of warm brownies, she hurried back to Arnie but came to an awkward halt when she found him having a heated confrontation with a woman giving off a Maleficent vibe. Whoever the snarling bitch turned out to be, Summer knew instinctively that she was very bad news, especially after hearing the words, murdering asshole directed at Arnie.
He answered the woman in a menacing growl. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, so don’t fuck with me.”
Maleficent’s laughter was high-pitched and slightly manic. Summer swallowed hard. She’d never been this close to a monster before and trembled with awareness of the evil before her.
“Don’t threaten me,” the snake in a designer dress hissed. “It’s not too late for me to destroy your father.”
Oh, dear god. What had she walked in to?
“As usual,” Arnie sneered, “we reach an impasse. You make a move on Dad, and I’ll make sure your booze-addled son never speaks to you again.”
The ferocity of their mutual glares made Summer nervous. These two should never, ever be left alone together.
“Grab your broom and be gone.” He crossed his arms and glared down at her.
What happened next threw Summer into a case of panic. The woman hauled off and slapped Arnie across the face. He never reacted.
“You’re going to regret messing with me.” With that pronouncement, the public altercation ended. The woman stomped away, her high heels tapping out an angry rhythm as she crossed the expansive lobby.
Trembling with fear and a disturbing sense of foreboding, she froze in place. When Arnie saw her, he blanched and came to her side.
“What the hell was that?” she asked in a shaky voice as she bit her lip and glanced in the direction of the retreating female.
“Nothing,” he grunted and tried to take her arm.
Too much was happening. She needed to breathe and clear her head. Shaking off his attempt to touch her, Summer willed her booted feet to move and headed for the outside. He didn’t let her get too far before gently guiding her to change direction with his body.
She was almost in the hyperventilation danger zone when they made it to his bungalow. He pried the container of brownies from her rigid hands and urged her to sit.
Everything went to shit. Her senses exploded. Without concrete evidence, she knew in the deepest darkest corner of her being the Maleficent woman wasn’t just a normal menace. She wished harm upon Arnie, and the realization shook her up.
Grabbing his waist, Summer wailed in Arnie’s face, “She wants to hurt you. I-I could feel it. Who is that awful woman?”
Stroking her arms, he dipped his knees so their eyes would meet. “She is less than nobody, and I know all about the bottomless pit of malice she carries inside.”
Irrational fear consumed her. Digging her fingers into his waist, she cried, “You have to protect yourself from her. Don’t ask me how I know this, I just do.”
“Summer, please don’t get upset. Look, my family is fucked up, okay? There are reasons I stay away and don’t talk about them. What you saw was unfortunate, but trust me, it means nothing.”
He guided her onto the patio and lit a fire. As she breathed in the peaceful green calm, the anxiety gripping her lessened bit by bit.
Still shaken but more in control, she chose blunt over polite.
“You threatened her, and you meant it. I heard the backbone in your words.”
The Nordic blue of his eyes turned frosty and glacial. “She crossed a line.”
“Yeah, so I gathered. Why did she call you a murdering asshole?”
She knew her question struck a nerve when a flinch contorted his features.
“Does this have anything to do with your job?”
He stiffened and clenched his fists. She held her breath and waited.
“Just to clarify, we are at a point of no return. A go, no-go point, if you will. My security designation means I’m not in a position to speak freely about a lot of things.”
His tension was palpable. She half smiled and offered a partial lifesaver. “This isn’t my first government secrets moment. My brother is also a lockbox of information without a key. An overview is fine.”
He appeared relieved. She searched his face, and with her senses, she tested the air around them, looking for clues.
“Okay, then you probably get the picture when I say the men in suits who run things
, both inside and outside the government, reeled me in rather early. I’ve got a degree in sensory forensics and psychology although you’ll never see it hanging on a wall. Unauthorized disclosure of my work would bring a lot of shit down on me. As far as my public face, it’s simple. For a long time, the Department of Justice issued my paycheck. I have more stamps in my passport than candles on my birthday cake. Yes, I have a carry permit, and when I’m working, a gun is standard equipment. That doesn’t make me a murdering asshole.”
“Quite a lot to digest.” She checked out his body language from head to toe, became agitated, and started listing a raft of possibilities floating on the churning waves of her worried thoughts.
“Are you a mercenary? Like a legal gun for hire? Is this about bad guys and terrorists or garden-variety criminals? Do you have to check in with the local police when you travel?”
His brows arched, and she blew out an exasperated breath.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I don’t live under a rock. This may come as a surprise, but unless you’re hiding an Iron Man suit or are a part of a super-secret government project to create a race of superhumans, you aren’t special. Guaran-goddamn-teed the FBI or the NSA or the XYZ have my name in a file. The Army checks their high-level people quite thoroughly.”
“Oh, baby,” he sniggered. “You keep talking like that, and I’m going to have to make passionate, mind-blowing love to you.”
Biting back a snort of laughter, she made a face, and asked, “What part got you hot? The Iron Man suit or the NSA?”
Winking and shaking his head, he comically drawled, “I like most things with three letters.”
Feigning disbelief, Summer squawked and covered her face. “Three letters as in s-e-x? We were having a moment.” She snorted. “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
“Testosterone side effect.”
She wasn’t ready to laugh this away. She still sensed danger, and no amount of joking around was going to make her forget.
“So tell me about now. Who are you, really?”
He grinned. She blinked and wondered what he found so damn funny.
“Do you know the saying about birds of a feather? Well, it’s true. Cops, soldiers, spooks of all stripes, colors, and talents tend to flock together. My flock of cuckoo birds nested in New York City.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his wallet and fished through it to hand her a dark blue card. Except for one word—NIGHTWIND—it was blank. She turned it over in her hand several times. There were no other markings. Single-word calling cards signified exclusivity.
“We take on what falls between the cracks. Some of it is pro bono.”
Pro bono? She was instantly intrigued. “You mean like white hat stuff? Righting wrongs?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, and sometimes it’s a little more like Robin Hood. Wealth redistribution.” He chortled.
“I see.” It wasn’t so much what he was personally capable of as it was a case of knowing people. She laughed. Only Arnie would be his own guy.
“So in a way, you are the ultimate in I have a guy.”
He threw his head back for a hearty laugh. “Not much danger involved in being the guy.”
Her mind was in no way set at ease. Maybe danger wasn’t an everyday part of his life, but she still felt it hovering.
“NIGHTWIND.” She felt something flutter in her chest. “Evocative word. What’s it mean?”
His expression stilled and grew serious. Whirling clouds of gray replaced the sparkle in his eyes. She was keenly aware of a shift in the air.
“The hot, dry winds of a desert night in the Middle East, when treachery and danger hid behind every rock. Well”—he shrugged—“it’s something you never forget. The night winds can lull a man into forgetting how precarious his situation is.”
Summer was willing to swear that the card with just one word vibrated in her fingers.
“This isn’t a business card, is it? Not in the classical sense. No name. No contact information.”
“We don’t advertise.”
Intrigued by this, she asked the obvious. “Why not?”
“Advertising is for amateurs.” His lip curled in a sneer. “We don’t dabble. There’s no room in our line of work for dilettantes. The inept make things worse. NIGHTWIND operates on a different level.”
“So when you make jokes about danger and act like it’s a non-issue, are you just being cocky or not?”
“I can handle an aging hag with blinders on and both hands tied. No cockiness required. Just stating a fact.”
The job thing seemed covered, more or less. Flogging the danger subject to death wasn’t going to change what she felt. That just left the matter of this family he so cavalierly dismissed.
Summer searched for her next words. What question should she ask? It took ten seconds to realize she had nothing. Dysfunctioning families were par for the course in the twenty-first century. Something she knew firsthand.
Unless she was reading him wrong, he waited until she ran out of cause to continue.
The look on his face made her toes curl. It was impossible not to return his disarming smile.
No. Check that. It wasn’t a smile. The man was grinning, although she was sure he made an effort to keep it just this side of arrogantly cocky.
Yeah, she thought with a blush as she looked away. His ability to see into her thoughts was going to be a challenge for her.
“I’m falling in love with you.” Though the grin remained, his voice was sober and his words direct.
She wasn’t sure what to say or do. His direct approach pulled the rug out from under her. This situation was new to her. She didn’t have any experience in knowing how to react.
“Summer?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Anything you’d care to add?”
Her eyes snapped to his. “I’m calculating the distance between falling and fallen.”
Watching him pick her words apart, searching for her meaning was weirdly satisfying. If he didn’t care about her, he wouldn’t have bothered.
He grew in stature before her eyes, and in a supremely confident voice, he stated, “Whatever the final calculation turns out to be, just know I’ll catch you.”
He wasn’t the only one who knew how to be direct.
“What are we doing?”
The entire time they’d been talking, he remained standing. She hoped it wasn’t a power play because he already held the physical high ground. Relief surged inside her when he finally relaxed.
“Permission to stand down,” he drawled.
Her dad would have loved this guy.
Gesturing with a queenly flourish, she motioned to the chair opposite and said, “Permission granted.”
The minute his tight ass hit the cushion, he started talking. “What are we doing? Well, as I’ve already stated, at least one of us is falling in love.”
“Oh, snap.” She giggled.
He arched a brow but didn’t budge. He expected her to respond in kind.
Well, she sure hoped he was ready for a full declaration.
“Since you’re not going to let this go without a deposition, you had me from the get-go after buying out the whole munchies menu at Starbucks. The whipped cream and animal crackers sealed the deal.”
“Food, of course.” He snorted. “Not my good looks or sparkling wit.”
“Your head is big enough, Mr. Magnum.” She chortled. The hair toss was spontaneous, but the gleam in Arnie’s eyes told her he enjoyed the flirty move.
“Uh, which big head?” he asked with cheeky impudence. Pointing at his face, he kept an innocent expression for a few beats, and asked, “This one?” He then winked and pointed at his lap. “Or that one?”
Her eyes couldn’t take anymore. He was so devastatingly handsome. It was too much. She looked away to stare at the fireplace even though his energy was everywhere.
She hated feeling unsure or weak. Ordinarily, she’d bluster through as a way of managing her anxiety, but somethin
g about Arnie made her take chances. Chances that terrified her.
“It’s okay to leave your comfort zone, Summer. I’m right here. With you.”
“Get out of my head.” She didn’t know how else to put it.
“I’m not trying, I swear.”
The intensity in Arnie’s gaze gave away what he was thinking. He might not be trying to read her thoughts, but he still had a front row seat. Instead of focusing on how easily he saw through her, he went with what he found out.
He sat back and studied her. “Your father was a protector. It’s how he made up for what he didn’t know about nurturing.”
His words jolted her because they were ripped straight from her soul. She stared into his eyes as he undid the laces to her heart.
“You resist attempts by others to look out for you. Except for your brother. That you allow but only on your terms. Your mother’s betrayal makes you vulnerable. And stronger than you realize,” he murmured at the end.
The comfort in his gaze felt like a warm hug. As a motherless child himself, he knew all about how deep that particular wound could go.
“How do you know all this?” She needed to understand what was happening.
“You’re telling me. You want me to know. Everything.”
She got up and quickly sought a spot on his lap. The way he folded her in his arms made her wonder if he’d been waiting.
“Shit happens, baby. That’s actually what it says in the dictionary when you look up the word, life. Shit happens. Protective instincts and good intentions aren’t enough. If they were, no one would ever get hurt.”
“I don’t want this to be over.”
He hesitated. She felt it.
“An improvement in our timing would be nice, but we don’t get to decide some of those things. Believe me, honey. I’m looking at every possible way to ensure this never ends.”
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 25