by Nora Roberts
“Thank you, Jack. And first I’ll say you have all the pity in my heart for the life you’ll lead with this ill-mannered, bad-tempered, violent-natured female.” Malachi narrowed his eyes as she made a grab for the jade bowl on the coffee table and Jack clamped a hand on her wrist.
“Han dynasty. Stick with the pillows.”
“As I was saying,” Malachi continued. “I’m aware money isn’t an issue with you, but I want it clear my sister doesn’t come to you with empty pockets. She’s a quarter interest in our business, which does well enough. Whether or not she decides to continue to work actively in that business, the quarter interest remains hers. And she’s also entitled to her share of whatever comes out of this enterprise of ours.”
“The money doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to us,” Malachi corrected. “And it matters to Rebecca.” He lifted a brow at his sister.
“Maybe you aren’t a complete pea brain.” And she smiled at him.
“I’ve seen how things are between you, and I’m glad of it. For all her faults—and they are legion—we love her and want her happy. As far as the Sullivan business is concerned, you’re welcome to be as much a part of that as suits you.”
“Nicely done, Mal.” Gideon sat on the arm of his brother’s chair, lifted his glass in toast. “Da would have been pleased with that. And so, Jack, welcome to the family.”
“Thanks. I don’t know much about boats. Wouldn’t mind learning more.”
“Well now.” Rebecca grinned at her brothers. “I’m just the one to teach you.”
“We’ll talk about that.” He gave her knee a friendly pat before getting to his feet. “I’ve got one or two errands to run. I could use a hand,” he said to the other men.
“If the three of you are going gallivanting, so am I. I’m going to drag Cleo and Tia out to look at wedding dresses. Did I mention I’m wanting a big, white wedding?”
That stopped him. “Define ‘big.’ ”
“Don’t waste your breath,” Gideon advised him. “She’s got that gleam in her eye.”
It was still there three hours later when she came back loaded down with brides’ magazines, a wedding planner book Tia bought her as an engagement gift and the sexy little nightgown that had been Cleo’s gift.
“I still say lilies will make beautiful centerpieces for the reception.”
“Right.” Cleo winked at Tia. “They’re not just for funerals anymore.”
“The wildflower nosegays were so charming,” Tia put in. “I can’t believe I spent all that time in a flower shop and my sinuses stayed clear. I’ve had an allergy breakthrough.”
“What are all those red spots on your face?” Cleo asked her, then roared as Tia made a dash for the Adam mirror in Jack’s living area and did a thorough inspection for rashes or hives.
“I don’t think that’s funny. Not one bit.”
“You know how she likes to joke,” Rebecca commented, then glanced over toward the archway leading to the bedroom. The bags she held fell to the floor, and she was flying.
“Ma!”
“There’s my girl.” Eileen caught her, hugged her hard. “There’s my pretty girl.”
“Ma. What’re you doing here? How did you get here? Oh, I missed you.”
“What I’m doing is unpacking my things, and I got here on a plane. I missed you, too. Just let me look at you.” Eileen pulled her back, studied her face. “Happy, are you?”
“I am, yes. Very happy.”
“I knew he was for you when you brought him home for tea.” She sighed, pressed her lips to Rebecca’s brow while all the years whizzed by in her head. “Now, introduce me to your friends here, who I’ve already heard so much about from my boys.”
“Tia and Cleo, my mother, Eileen Sullivan.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Sullivan.” Malachi’s mother, Tia thought, panicked. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“I felt like a queen, lolling about in first class.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a long one though.” Uneasy, Cleo tugged on Tia’s sleeve. “We’ll split and let you rest up. Catch up. All that.”
“Indeed you won’t.” Eileen’s smile was friendly, and her mind made up. “We’ll have a nice cozy pot of tea and a chat. The boys are down below doing some devious thing or the other, so we’ll take advantage of the time. Such a fine, big flat this is,” she added, glancing around. “There must be the makings for tea somewhere in it.”
“I’ll make it,” Tia said quickly.
“I’ll help.” Cleo nipped at her heels all the way into the kitchen. “What are we supposed to talk to her about?” she hissed. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Sullivan. We really enjoy sex with your sons when we’re not out breaking into buildings.”
“Oh God. Oh God.” Tia put her head in her hands. “What did we come in here for?”
“Tea.”
“Right. I forgot. Okay.” She opened two cupboards before she remembered where she herself had stored the tea. “Well, she has to know. Oh God!” Tia opened the fridge, found an open bottle of wine. She pulled out the stopper and took a pull straight from the bottle. “She has to know something about the other. Either Malachi or Gideon would call her regularly. We know she knows about the Fates and Anita and at least some portion of the plans. As for the other . . .”
Tia tried to calm down as she measured out tea. “They’re grown men, and she seems like a reasonable woman.”
“Easy for you. She’s probably going to be all right with the idea of her firstborn cozied up with a published author with a Ph.D. and an apartment on the Upper East Side. But I don’t see her doing cheers when she finds out her baby boy is doing it with a stripper.”
“That’s insulting.”
“Well, Jesus, Tia, who could blame her? I—”
“No, not to Mrs. Sullivan, to you.” With the tea canister still in hand, Tia turned. “You’re insulting a friend of mine, and I don’t like it. You’re brave and loyal and smart, and you have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to apologize for.”
“That was well said, Tia.” Eileen stepped into the kitchen and watched both women blanch. “I can see why Malachi’s so taken with you. And as for you,” she said to Cleo. “It happens I trust my baby boy’s judgment and have always admired his taste. And Mal’s, as well. I’ll start there with the both of you, and we’ll see how we get on. See that water boils full before you pour it,” she added. “Most Yanks never can get a decent pot of tea made.”
When Jack came into the apartment thirty minutes later, he noted three things simultaneously. Tia was flustered, Cleo was stiff. And Rebecca was glowing.
It was Rebecca who rose, slowly, walked to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, brought her mouth to his for a long, lingering kiss.
“Thanks,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He kept an arm around her waist as he looked over at her mother. “Settling in all right, Eileen?”
“Couldn’t be more comfortable, thank you, Jack. Now, I’m hearing from the three girls here that you’ve all got more plans for this woman who’s after hurting my family. I hope we can sit down and find a way I might help you out with them.”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something. According to my contact, the woman is even now combing Athens in search of a certain silver lady and a brunette.” He came over, sat across from Cleo. “She bought a gun. It was the first thing she did. It’s clear she’s hoping to track you down, and when she does, she plans to play for keeps.”
“She’s going to be disappointed, isn’t she?”
“And we’re going to keep her that way.” Gideon came in, Malachi behind him. And there was fury in his eyes. “Whatever plans are from this point, we’re keeping you well away from her.”
“Hey, listen, Slick—”
“The hell I will. She’s not planning on having a chat with you. She’s planning on getting what she’s after, then killing you. Did you tell her where she got the gun?”
“Black ma
rket,” Jack provided. “Unregistered Glock. She was careful. She didn’t try to get a weapon through customs. Odds are she’s not planning on bringing it back through either. She hopes to get her money’s worth out of it, then ditch it.”
“Like I said, she’s going to be disappointed.”
“And you’re on background duty from here out,” Gideon told her. “You help Rebecca with tech, Tia with research. And you stay in this flat or Tia’s. You don’t go out alone for any reason. And if you argue with me, I’ll lock you in a closet until it’s done.”
“Cleo, before you cosh my son, which I’m sure he deserves for any number of reasons, I’d like to say something.” Eileen sat comfortably, as she often did at her own kitchen table. “I’ve had a different view of things, as I haven’t been in the center of it. There’s a weak spot—an Achilles’ heel, you could say. That’d be apt, wouldn’t it,” Eileen said to Tia. “This woman knows your face, Cleo. She believes you’re holding something she’s already killed for. She’s focused on you now. That’ll change and shift a bit after she comes back here. But you’re the one thing she’s sure of. If she manages to get to you, she gets to all. Would that be the case, Mal?”
“It would, in a nutshell. We won’t risk losing you, Cleo, for your own sake. And I don’t think you’ll risk the whole of the matter just for the chance to thumb your nose in her face.”
“Okay, point taken. I’m a risk, so I stay covered.”
“And next time, Gideon,” Eileen said, “you might ask reasonably instead of tossing orders about. You make a fine cup of tea for a Yank, Tia.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan.”
“Let’s just make it Eileen, why don’t we? From what I gather here you’re a clever girl in other areas.”
“Not really. I’m just good at following directions.”
“Modesty’s very becoming.” Eileen poured another half cup of tea from the pot. “But when it’s misplaced or untrue, then it’s just foolishness. You found a way to get this woman’s financial information.”
“Actually, it was my friend who . . . Yes,” Tia amended at Eileen’s lifted eyebrows. “I found a way.”
“And so you know how much to demand from her for the Fates.”
“We haven’t decided, exactly, but I thought . . .”
“Does the girl always worry about speaking her mind?” Eileen asked Malachi.
“Not as much as she did. You’re making her nervous.”
Though color rose into her cheeks, Tia straightened her shoulders. “She can liquidate up to fifteen million. Twenty, really, but that adds considerable time and complications, so fifteen’s better. So I thought we should ask for ten and give her a buffer. The Fates are worth a great deal more. She’ll know that with a little work and research she can sell them to the right collector for at least double her investment. My father verified that he, as a dealer, would offer ten. As a businesswoman, she’d think the same way.”
“Very sensible,” Eileen said with a nod. “Now all you have to do is figure out how to have her turn over that kind of money without giving her the Fates. Have her charged with the insurance fraud and end it all with her being arrested for murder. With that done, we can get down to planning a wedding and get back to running Sullivan Tours. Your cousins are doing a fine job with the day-today of it,” she told Malachi, “but we need to have our hands back in it again.”
“It’ll hold a bit longer, Ma,” Malachi assured her.
“If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here. Just as I believe the lot of you will come up with the solution to the whole of it. You’ve gotten this far, after all. And speaking of that, isn’t it time someone offered to show me the Fates?”
“I LIKE YOUR mother.”
Malachi’s lips twitched as he watched Tia neatly turn down the bed. “She terrifies you.”
“Just a little.” Out of habit, she switched on the white-noise maker on the bedside table.
When she moved away to adjust her bedroom air filter, Malachi switched it back off as he did every night. She never noticed.
“Rebecca was so happy to see her. It was a lovely thing for Jack to do, bringing her here.” Restless, Tia walked into the bath, carefully removed her hypoallergenic makeup with hypoallergenic cleanser.
“A nice surprise for you, too,” she added when Malachi came to the doorway. “I’m sure you’ve missed her.”
“I have, very much.” He loved to watch her this way—the tidiness of her, the pretty sweetness of her face without any trace of cosmetics. “You know what they say about Irish men.”
“No, what do they say?”
“They may be drunks or rebels, brawlers or poets. But to a man, they love their mothers.”
She laughed a little, stood there opening and closing the top of her moisturizer. “You’re not any of those things.”
“What an insult. I can drink and brawl with the best of them. Sure I’ve got some rebel in me. And . . . do you want poetry, Tia?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had any.”
“Do you want it quoted or made up?”
She wanted to smile, was sure she could, but it collapsed on her. “Don’t do this.”
“What?” Baffled, and a little alarmed, he stepped to her. And she stepped away.
“I’m not going to make it difficult for you.”
“That’s good to know,” he said carefully. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.” She sniffed. “I won’t cry. I’ll be reasonable and understanding, just like I always am,” she said and set the moisturizer on the counter with a snap.
“Maybe you should tell me what you’re going to be reasonable and understanding about.”
“Don’t laugh at me. Knowing people laugh at me doesn’t make it any less horrible.”
“I’m not laughing at you. Sweetheart . . .” He reached out for her and she smacked his hand aside.
“Don’t call me that, and don’t touch me,” she added as she pushed by him and strode back into the bedroom.
“Don’t call you sweetheart, don’t touch you. You won’t cry and you’ll be reasonable and understanding.” His head began to throb. “Give me a clue here.”
“We’re almost done. I know it, and I’ll finish it out. This is the only important thing I’ve done in my life, and I won’t leave it unfinished.”
“It’s not the only important thing you’ve done.”
“Don’t placate me, Malachi.”
“Damned if I’m placating you, and bloody hell if I’m going to stand here arguing without any idea what I’m arguing about. Christ, I’m getting one of your headaches.” He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. “Tia, what is it?”
“You said you should have told me before. Maybe you should. Maybe, even though I knew, it would have been better that way.”
“Told you . . . ah.” And he remembered what he’d been about to say before Cleo had interrupted them that morning. He frowned, jammed his hands into his pockets. “You know, and it pisses you off?”
“I’m not allowed to have feelings?” she tossed back. “I’m not allowed to be angry. Just grateful? Grateful that we’ve had these weeks together. Well, I am grateful and I’m angry. I’ll be furious if I want.” She glanced around. “God! There must be something to throw.”
“Don’t think about it,” he advised. “Just grab the first thing and let it fly.”
She snatched up her hairbrush, heaved it. It cracked solidly against the jewel-toned shade of her bedside lamp. “Damn it! Damn it, that was Tiffany. Can’t I even have a successful temper tantrum?”
“You should have thrown it at me.” He grabbed her arms before she could go clean up the mess she’d made.
“Just let me go.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“I’m stupid.” The fight went out of her. “All I’ve done is embarrass myself and break a beautiful lamp shade. I should’ve taken a Xanax.”
“Well, you didn’t, and I pr
efer fighting with a woman who’s not hazy on some tranquilizer. These are real feelings, Tia, and you’ll have to deal with them. Whether you want mine or not, you’ll have to deal with them.”
“I’ve been dealing with them.” She shoved at him. “I’ve been dealing with them all along. And it’s not fair. I don’t care that life doesn’t have to be fair, because this is my life. And I can’t make it easy on you, no matter how often I told myself I would. I want you to go stay at Jack’s. You can’t be here with me, it’s too much.”