by Day Leclaire
She didn’t so much as crack a smile. “You can insist on babysitting me for the next five weeks. It’s not like I’m strong enough to turf you out, not with Madam and Nonna in your corner. But I don’t need your assistance any longer. I’m more focused than I’ve ever been in my life.”
He shot her a curious look before returning his attention to the road. “Uh-huh. And what brought that on?”
“Tonight helped me figure out my priorities.”
That was good, right? “That’s good, right?” he repeated.
“That’s excellent,” she confirmed again. “From now on, I follow the Dantes’ stellar example. I put family first. I have to if I’m going to protect them.”
“Uh . . . Great?” Damn it.
“Yes, great.” Her face settled into a grim, determined expression that set his alarm bells ringing to the max. “Because it means I put all my time and focus into taking over Billings.” That was not good. Not even a little. “All your time and attention?”
“Twenty-four/seven,” she confirmed.
“That’s what you learned from someone at Primo’s tonight?”
“That’s what I learned.”
“Got it.”
He didn’t know which Dante was gonna die, but one of them was going down for whatever bug they’d stuck in Téa’s ear. He’d been where she was, devoting his life to a cause. And it had just about killed him. Literally. It was bad enough when she was striving for some sort of balance between work and family and the teeny-tiny sliver of a piece he’d managed to coax out of her for play. Now it would only get worse. And someone would pay. Someone always paid the price for that sort of dedication.
He just didn’t want it to be Téa.
First thing Monday, frustrated as a tiger with its tail in a knot, Luc watched Téa take the first step in her campaign. She marched into Conway Billings’ office—a huge, palatial room with a prime view of the city—and slammed the door in Luc’s face. The conversation between cousins went on at some length before she returned. She didn’t even glance at him, though one look at her burning eyes and taut jaw warned her conversation with “Cuz” didn’t go well. She made a beeline for her own office and the spreadsheets she’d left there on Friday. She spent three straight hours poring over them, her expression more severe than he’d ever seen it.
At one point, she sent him from the room while she made a series of phone calls. Something was definitely up. He waited outside her office, glancing in the general direction of Conway’s and snagged his cell from his back pocket. He scrolled through the names until he hit on the one he wanted and placed the call.
“Juice? It’s Luc. I need you to run a full background check on someone for me.”
“What happened to hello?” Dantes’ head of security and his former business associate complained in a rumbling bass voice. “You used to at least soften me up with a, ‘how’s it going?’ before you started in. I feel so used when you insist we just get straight to it.”
Luc felt his mouth relax into a grin. “Then you shouldn’t let strangers pick you up in bars.”
Juice sighed. “True enough. What can I get you?”
Luc gave him the details. “Rush it, will you?”
“That’s not what they usually say.”
“Yeah, but at least I’ll still respect you in the morning. And I promise I’ll call you soon. Honey.”
Juice snorted. “Stuff it,” he said before the line went dead.
Luc turned to find Téa standing there, arms folded across her chest, her vivid teal-blue eyes glaring through the sparkling lenses of her reading glasses. “If you’re quite finished?”
“All done,” he confirmed cheerfully.
“I’m going on a business trip, which means you get the next couple of days off.”
He waited a beat. “No, I believe it means I’m going on a business trip, too,” he corrected.
She sliced a hand through the air. “Unnecessary and out of the question. It’s a matter of confidentiality.”
“I’m all about confidentiality.”
“Not this time. I need to do this on my own. Connie insists and I’m forced to agree.”
“Oh, well. If Connie insists.” He backed her into the office, slammed the door closed and shoved his nose against hers. Awareness shimmered through him, an awareness he did his level best to ignore. “Then I’m absolutely going.”
Her eyes narrowed and he could practically see the gears spinning. Then she drew back and offered a wide, insincere smile. “Fine,” she said with a careless shrug. “You can come, too.”
He didn’t need any alarm bells to know she’d given in way too easily. Plus, there was the small matter of her utter and total inability to lie. “When and where?”
“Wednesday morning, first thing.”
“Got it.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll pick you up at the usual time tomorrow?”
Her smile returned, sunny with insincerity. “Of course.”
Of course.
Luc was right.
He’d suspected Téa planned to sneak out bright and early Tuesday morning and she didn’t disappoint him. He stood wrapped in early morning dew and shadows, and rested his hip against the brick wall that guarded the de Luca family row house. Somehow, the Italianate Victorian suited them, with its trademark gingerbread accents, top-heavy cornices and long, hooded windows. The garage door opened and Téa backed her car carefully out before the electronic mechanism engaged and slid the door closed again. He shifted until he stood directly in her path.
The instant she caught sight of him in her rearview mirror, her brakes squealed and the car bounced to a stop. After turning off the ignition, Téa erupted from the car. She made a beeline toward him, the decisive click of her heels bouncing off the concrete driveway. Somebody didn’t look happy to see him. He was crushed.
“I. Should. Have. Known.” She bit off each word as if they were chewed nails.
“Yeah, you should have.” He held out his hand. “Keys.”
“You’re not coming.”
He didn’t bother arguing. He let his expression say it all.
She stewed for an entire sixty seconds before relenting. “If you must come, then I insist on driving.”
He simply stood there, as immobile as a rock, hand outstretched.
“I’m sure there’s a rule somewhere that says that bodyguards ride shotgun.” When he still didn’t budge, she slapped the keys in his hand. “Fine. I’ll navigate.”
“Excellent decision.”
“It’s not like I had a choice,” she grumbled.
“Sure you did.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I could have canceled the trip?”
His mouth kicked up at the corners. “You got it.”
He keyed the fob and popped the trunk. Picking up his duffel bag from where he’d stashed it on the sidewalk, he stowed it alongside Téa’s case. By the time he finished Téa was already in the car, her nose buried in a map book.
Luc eased his tall frame behind the wheel and adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs and cause his knee the least amount of strain. Twitched the mirrors. Did a quick check of the various controls. The engine turned over with a soft purr that spoke of a well-maintained vehicle. Knowing Téa he was willing to bet she rolled in for servicing at the exact same instant the odometer rolled past each three thousand miles.
He didn’t really need directions for getting out of the city, but if telling him where to go helped Téa come to terms with his crashing her business trip, he’d put up with it.
“How did you know?” she finally asked once they cleared the city.
“I know you.” He shot her a speaking look. “Plus, you have to be the world’s worst liar. Probably comes from lack of practice.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It can be. I’m willing to bet every one of your sisters excels at the art.”
She mulled that over before conceding the truth of it. “There are a lot of
arts my sisters excel at that I don’t.”
No doubt it was part of the reason she’d never quite fit in. “And I thank God for it.” He gave her a moment to digest his comment, then asked, “Care to tell me where we’re going and why?”
“Connie asked me to visit some of our smaller accounts along the coast between San Francisco and L.A., so we can all get to know each other before I take over.”
“Uh . . . I hate to tell you this, but Sacramento isn’t between San Francisco and L.A. And that’s the direction you have us headed.”
“That’s because I’m not going to visit those accounts.”
“I’m shocked.” And he was. “You’re flouting Conway’s authority?”
“Why, yes. I believe I am. I’ve always wanted to learn how to flout.” Her chin took on a stubborn slant. “And today’s the day.”
He couldn’t help himself. He chuckled. “Where are we going, instead?”
“To talk to the former manager of our manufacturing plant.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her shoulder bag and checked the directions against the map book. “He retired to some small town called Polk about the time I started at Bling. It’s located in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.”
“Never heard of the place. Why do you want to talk to him?”
She hesitated for a telling moment. “To find out why he retired and what changes have been instituted since he left.”
He considered how she’d obsessed over the accounting spreadsheets, obviously troubled by something she’d found there. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together and come up with Cousin Cunning. “I thought you trusted Connie implicitly.”
Her expression threatened to rip out his heart. “So did I,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Despite traffic, they made the drive to Sacramento in just under three hours. She spent most of the drive dividing her time between Madam’s cell phone and her sisters’ until he finally confiscated them. To his intense satisfaction, she turned them over without a single objection. It was a gorgeous late spring day, bright and sunny, the roads reasonably clear of traffic. Blue and violet lupine and camas lilies covered the foothills, interspersed with spindles of lemon aster. Their destination took them off the beaten path, on to twisty roads that clung to the sides of rock-strewn cliffs, but offering breathtaking vistas of the mountains.
Luc touched the brakes as he rounded one of the hairpin turns and frowned. “How much farther, Téa?” he asked.
The sharpness in his tone had her head coming around. “What’s wrong?”
He gave it to her straight. “The brakes are soft. I’m not sure how much longer they’re going to hold. Look for a safe place we can turn off.”
“This isn’t a good section of road to have the brakes go out.” Other than a thread of anxiety that underscored the comment, she remained impressively calm.
“No, it isn’t.”
He touched the brakes again, alarmed by the way the pedal depressed straight to the floor. They needed a pull-off and fast. Unfortunately, on Téa’s side was sheer rock and on his side, an endless drop off the mountain. The car swept around the next bend and the speedometer inched ever higher. He pumped the brakes, hoping to rebuild enough pressure to stop the car. It didn’t help, but he kept trying. And hoping.
“Hold on,” he warned. “I’m going to use the engine to slow us.”
Punching in the clutch, he downshifted. The car bucked, shimmied. He wrestled with the wheel, fighting to keep the car on the road. The back tires slid sideways and the engine screamed in protest. Another sharp curve loomed ahead and he took it wide, dragging the car through the gravel along the shoulder, hoping the extra friction would slow the car.
“I’m going to downshift again.”
“I’m okay. Do it.”
Her soothing voice acted like a balm. It eased his concerns about her and allowed him to give his full focus to the task at hand. He downshifted once again, wincing at the sound of gears clashing and grinding. If he stripped them, they’d really be in trouble. The road flattened out briefly and he used the opportunity to play with the emergency brake on the console between the two front seats. He pushed in the button on the end of the stick and eased it backward. The car slowed but fishtailed so badly he was forced to let go of the lever in order to control the car.
“I need your help,” he said.
“Tell me what to do.”
He waited until he successfully steered them around the next bend. “I need you to push in the button on the emergency brake handle and pull it backward until you feel resistance. It’ll engage the rear brakes. But if you yank too hard, I’ll lose control. So do it gently.”
Early afternoon daylight flickered through the trees, dancing across the grim determination that lined her face. She reached for the brake handle, the slight tremor of her hand giving away her agitation. She played with the brake, first too gently, then too much pressure, before finding that sweet spot between the two. They rounded another curve, taking it far too fast.
The next instant he saw it. A straight stretch of road lined with heavy brush on Téa’s side. There were trees, as well, but they were a solid twenty feet off the road. He wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this.
“I’m going to crash the car into the brush. Cover your face.”
She limited herself to a single word. “Damn.”
Skidding onto the gravel-covered shoulder, he dragged the passenger side of the car against the thick brush. Téa instinctively flinched away. Branches slashed against the metal, tearing at it, clawing at the vehicle. The car slowed and he arced more fully into the bushes. The wheel jerked from his hand and the car spun in a sharp 180, flinging itself into the embrace of the roadside shrubs before careening into a ditch and plowing sideways against a towering fir.
The scream of metal was followed by simultaneous explosions. The first, the ringing impact of tree against car, followed instantaneously by the bang of the airbags inflating. Fine powder filled the air causing his eyes and nose to sting. The coating from the airbags, no doubt. Or maybe the sting came from the impact of the bags, themselves. It all happened too fast for him to be certain. He remembered the sensation from his last car wreck, though, and shied from the memory. Silence hung in the air, broken by the wheeze of the engine and the whirr of one of the tires that continued to spin.
“Téa?” Luc cut the engine. The car was tilted, driver side down and her weight sagged against him. “Are you hurt?”
To his relief she shifted. “I . . . I’m okay. I think. Dizzy.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“I don’t know.” She felt for it. “Small bump on the side.”
“The back windows blew out. Are you cut? Can you tell?”
Her sigh sounded amazingly normal. “To be honest, I can’t see a damn thing. My eyes are watering from all this dust.”
“Hang on.” He shoved the deflated airbags out of the way until he uncovered Téa. “Hello, gorgeous.”
She managed a smile. “That bad?”
“That good.”
He eased a wealth of curls away from her face. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Unable to help himself, he leaned in and kissed her. Inhaled her. Allowed himself a full minute to lose himself in celebration that they’d survived such a close call. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with gratifying enthusiasm. Finally, he pulled away and cupped her face, his fingers skating gingerly over her face and into her hair. He found the bump she’d indicated, saw her wince and skimmed past it as he checked the rest of her.
“If we manage to get out of this with only a small bump and a batch of scrapes and bruises, we can consider it a miracle.”
“No, the miracle is that you were behind that wheel instead of me,” she replied. “If I’d been on my own—” She broke off with a shudder.
Luc’s eyes narrowed and he filed the comment away for future consideration. “Any chance you can open your d
oor? Mine’s wrapped around the tree.”
“I’ll try.” She squirmed around, wedging her shapely backside against him while she fumbled with the door. “It’s too heavy. I can’t lift it.”
“Okay. How about you dig out one of your cell phones so we can call for help?”
“I’m not sure where my purse ended up.”
He shifted, fighting back a curse when his knee issued a sharp complaint. Great. Just what he needed. He poked around the floor of the car until he found her bag and passed it over.
“Everything’s jumbled,” she murmured. “Okay, here’s one. Oh. It’s our phone.”
For some reason the comment gave him a warm, possessive feeling. “Perfect.”
She placed the call and within twenty minutes the car swarmed with emergency personnel who extracted them in no time. While the EMTs examined Téa, Luc had a private conversation with one of the county deputies, whose nametag read Sandford. Together they walked the path the car had taken and the deputy shook his head in disbelief.
“That’s one hell of a piece of driving. I think you picked the only stretch on this road where you could have gotten away with ditching the car the way you did.” Sandford gestured farther down the road. “If you’d kept going you’d have ended up driving right off the mountainside. Sorry to say, I’ve seen the results of that once before. Just as soon never see it again.”
“Not much choice but to ditch. The brakes went out on me.”
“Bad place to have that happen.”
It would have been just as bad if they’d taken the coast road Conway had requested, Luc realized. Long sections were a steep drop into the Pacific on one side and a wall of rock on the other. “I want the car checked from top to bottom.” Luc spared a glance over his shoulder and grimaced. “At least, what’s left of it.”
Sandford’s eyebrows shot upward. “You think someone messed with the brakes?”
“Let’s just say I want to cover all the bases.”
“I’ll have it impounded, Mr. Dante.”