by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan
Rafe’s gaze followed. “Stay the fuck out of trouble.”
“I will. Are we done here?”
Not by a long shot, but Rafe didn’t have the energy to deal with the rest of it. And he knew where to find Billy when he was ready. “Don’t even think of upsetting Mamá with all this.”
“I won’t.” Billy slipped out the door before Rafe could stop him.
The corridor was empty by the time Rafe reached it. He ran a hand over his hair and headed back toward his mother’s room.
Lisa was sitting in the chair at his mother’s side, talking about God only knows what. Tired and in need of one moment of peace, he leaned against the doorjamb and listened to the sound of her husky voice, remembering the first time he’d heard it in that lecture hall, the way it had wrapped around him like a gentle caress, mesmerized him from the very start. Rich and thick with just a hint of sass. Like velvet and sandpaper at the same time.
Damn, he could get lost in that voice.
Who was he kidding? He already had. He wanted her in the worst possible way, with a frenzy that at times left him raw and exposed. But the overwhelming fact, the one that scared him the most, was the knowledge that this need burning up his insides wasn’t just a physical one. It was something more, something that left him totally off-balance in a way he’d never been before.
And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? Here he was with one foot teetering off the cliff, and she was sitting there all calm and collected as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Part of him was awed by her strength, by the fact she’d held it together and hadn’t once fallen apart. But another part of him—the part that wanted her with a reckless desperation—wanted to know if she felt anything inside. Especially anything related to him.
She must have heard him, because she paused and looked toward the door, and that’s when he saw the flash of unease, the indication that maybe she wasn’t as together as he thought. And his chest did that weird tightening thing it had done in the hotel room in Italy. The same thing it had done at her parents’ house and again when he’d kissed her last night.
Guilt slithered in as he watched. If he hadn’t pulled her into all this, she wouldn’t have that fragile look in her eye and wouldn’t be running for her life now. He’d just laid into Billy for being a royal fuckup, but when it came right down to it, he wasn’t much better.
Hailey glanced his way from the end of the bed and lifted her eyebrows. The questioning look and the way her gaze darted between him and Lisa made him refocus.
What the hell was he thinking? Lisa Maxwell was a grown woman, one who made her own choices. He hadn’t forced her into this. He’d even tried to get her to leave last night, hadn’t he? Had she listened to him? Hell, no. She was too damn stubborn to do what someone else wanted, even if they had her best interest in mind.
Feel guilty because of her? Bad idea. Sleep, food, and a chance to recharge his batteries was what he needed now. Once he did that, he’d be more focused. He’d get these stupid thoughts out of his head, figure out how to find that damn relief and get on with his life.
And get Lisa out of it for good.
He stepped forward. “Mamá, you look tired. We’re going to go and let you get some sleep.” He moved to the other side of the bed, away from Lisa, and reached for his mother’s hand.
Her eyes had drifted closed while Lisa had been talking, but they opened to focus on his face. “Thank you, m’ijo.” Concern spilled into her dark irises. “Is your brother all right?”
“Yeah, Mamá,” he said softly, hating the fact that she agonized over Billy when she should be saving all her energy for getting well. “He’s fine.”
“I worry about him. You’re all he has. You need to remember that, Rafael.”
Pain sliced through his heart. He didn’t want to remember that, didn’t want to think of the day when she’d be gone and his family was reduced to himself and his screwup brother.
He leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Get some rest, Mamá. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
***
She hadn’t said anything in the car since they’d left the hospital, and the silence was welcome relief to Rafe’s ears.
“Where are we headed?”
So much for peace and quiet. Rafe frowned as he pulled to a stop at the toll booth on the Rickenbacker Causeway. He pitched change into the coin slot, waited for the green light and pressed down on the gas. “Key Biscayne. Pete’s sister has a house there.”
She arched one elegant eyebrow his direction. “His sister? What does she do so she can afford a place in Key Biscayne?”
“Model.” He didn’t look her way but could tell by her silence she was curious. “She’s in Europe on some shoot. The house is empty. No one will bother us there.”
“Hmm.” She let the comment settle, pursed her lips and looked out at the water on both sides of the West Bridge. “So Billy wasn’t what I expected.”
His jaw clenched. He did not want to talk about Billy or his mother or anything related to the last hour.
She darted a look his way, not taking the hint. “You’re still pissed at me, aren’t you?”
More pissed at himself, but he didn’t need to let her know that.
At his silence, she looked ahead and folded her hands in her lap. “Well then, that’ll make this easier. There’s something else I didn’t tell you.”
Now why didn’t that surprise him? With his elbow propped on the window ledge, he massaged his aching forehead.
“When you asked me why I was gone so long yesterday, I wasn’t entirely truthful.”
Well, there was a news flash. He fought to keep his voice level. “Oh no?”
She shook her head. “After I left the gallery, I had the feeling I was being followed, so I doubled back through downtown just to see if I was hallucinating. Turns out I wasn’t. I darted into a bar, and a man followed. The same one who’d been following me for the last half hour.”
His first reaction was disbelief she hadn’t mentioned it before. The second was skepticism at why she was bothering to bring it up now. “You get a look at him?”
She bit her lip. “Um. Yes. A pretty close one.”
“And?”
“And…I was sure I’d never seen him before.”
He looked back at the road.
“Until today.”
The hair on his nape stood straight up. He darted a look at her. “What?”
“It was Billy.”
No way. He pushed out a shaky laugh. “I don’t buy that. In a smoky bar it could have been someone who looked like him. He wouldn’t be—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “It was him. There’s no way I could forget those eyes. And considering we had ourselves a little chat, up close and personal, so I could set him straight on a few things, there’s no way he’ll ever forget me.”
“You what?” The temper he’d been working hard to keep at bay came raging back. “You confronted a tail, not knowing if the guy was packing or with someone? Are you naïve or just plain stupid?”
“Watch it, pal.” Anger flashed in her irises. “I made sure he was alone. Believe me, if I picked him out, he wasn’t the brightest of tails. I knew he was an amateur by the look on his face. And I’m sure of it now, after seeing him today at the hospital. He was scared shitless when he saw me.”
Scared shitless didn’t begin to describe Billy. And dammit, she was right. Billy had been edgy at the hospital, and it hadn’t been just because he’d been scared his brother would lay into him. Rafe had sensed something else there, although he’d been too ticked to seek it out.
“Fuck. You have got to be kidding me.” His hand clenched into a fist against the wheel.
“I know I should have told you sooner, but I really didn’t think it was a big deal. Now, though, after everything that happened today…” She lifted her hands, dropped them. “I think it’s safe to say he’s involved somehow.”
Not just involved. Up to his ears in it.
&nb
sp; Rafe chewed on the information as they drove into the Village of Key Biscayne. He turned onto a side street that led them into a posh area of the island and stopped at a large wrought-iron gate flanked by two towering palms. He lowered his window, punched in the security code Pete had given him and waited for the gate to slide open.
He’d been here a handful of times and was always awed by how the rich and famous lived. But today he was too damn pissed to care.
He pulled to a stop in the circular drive and killed the engine. The noise and view of the road were blocked by flowering trees and magenta bougainvillea that towered above the eight-foot fence surrounding the property. Sweet acacia and locustberry were scattered through the immaculately manicured front lawn. Various-sized palms littered the landscape, and purple verbena lined the front walk. It was a tropical paradise only minutes from downtown Miami, a secluded spot he was thankful for so they could disappear and refocus.
Because right now he really needed it.
Pete stood leaning against the hood of his shiny red Porsche, cell phone pressed to his ear. His blond hair glimmered in the afternoon sunlight, and wearing crisp khakis and a lightweight silk shirt, he fit right in with the surroundings. He waved a greeting at Rafe and Lisa as they climbed from the rented SUV, and finished his conversation.
Concern filled his eyes as he pushed his designer sunglasses into his hair, snapped the phone closed and stood. “You look like you’ve been through the ringer, buddy.”
“Feel like it,” Rafe said, massaging the tense muscles at his nape. He was suddenly dog tired and worn-out and wanted nothing more than eight solid hours on his back.
He made introductions and watched a sly smile spread across Pete’s face as he took in Lisa for the first time.
Yeah, he knew that look. Pete was a ladies’ man. There was only one woman he’d ever been serious about, but she was long dead. Rafe had never met her, but since her funeral six years before, Pete had been on a binge of blondes and redheads and…any good-looking woman who could make him forget. At least that was Rafe’s theory.
Friend or not, though, there was no way in hell Lisa was going to be his next conquest.
Rafe waited while Pete made idle conversation with Lisa about his sister, the house and grounds, and when she finally darted a look his direction, he figured Pete had gone on long enough.
With a gentle hand he nudged her toward the house. “Why don’t you go on in and relax. I need to talk with Pete for a few.”
She seemed relieved, smiled at both of them, then turned and climbed the steps to the entrance of the Mediterranean-style villa.
A grin cut across Pete’s face as he watched her go. “Wow. Not what I expected.”
Rafe frowned. “Not what I expected either. She’s ready to fall over from sheer exhaustion. Trust me, she’s not usually so docile.”
“Spitfire, huh?”
“Try a barracuda who’s been on a diet and craves fresh meat. The woman would chew you up for breakfast, spit you out and come back for seconds just to watch you squirm.”
Pete chuckled. “Sounds like she’s done a number on you.”
No. Not yet. But Rafe had a feeling she would. And not in the way he wanted. “Listen. We’ve got trouble.”
Pete’s smile faded when Rafe told him about Winters and Kimbel. And it turned into a frown when Rafe relayed the story of Lisa’s tail in Chicago and the trouble with Billy.
“Jesus Christ, that kid’s a time bomb waiting to go off.”
That was the understatement of the year. Billy was just like their old man. “Tell me about it. But he’s still family. Do me a favor and keep him busy. I want him out of this until it’s done. Somebody on the wrong side dangles money in front of him and he’s gonna jump on it, no questions asked.”
Pete nodded in agreement. “Amazes me you two are related at all. I’ll find something for him to do between now and then. Don’t worry.”
“And get me a lead on Winters. I’ve got a bad feeling about that guy.”
“What about this woman? The one Billy said hired him?”
Rafe frowned. He’d been tossing that around since Lisa had mentioned it—which hadn’t been that long—and he didn’t like where his thoughts were headed. “I don’t know. See what you can get out of him when you talk to him.”
“Sure thing.” Pete flashed his million-dollar grin. “Can I rough him up a little in the process?”
“Only if you wanna go a round. He shows up at the hospital all bruised and battered, and Mamá will lay into me. Which means I’ll have to lay into you. I’m not in the mood for that.”
Pete shook his head and bit back his teasing laugh. “Sullivan, you’re such a mama’s boy.”
Not for long, he wouldn’t be.
That thought was enough to send his bad mood spiraling downward. He rubbed his eyes. “I need to crash before I pass out. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
They said good-bye, and he made his way up the front steps as Pete climbed into his sports car. When Rafe reached the porch, he turned and looked back. “Hey, Pete?”
Pete paused in the convertible with one hand on the ignition and looked up. “Yeah?”
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“I’ll feel better about that when you return to the land of the living.” A lopsided grin pulled at Pete’s mouth. “Stay out of the barracuda’s clutches.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. He planned to stay well away from Lisa.
Rafe let the heavy mahogany door slam shut at his back. He checked the locks, made sure the security system was turned on, and headed for the living room. With any luck, Lisa was already tucked into a bed upstairs sound asleep. Preferably a bed on the opposite end of the house from where he would be sleeping. In a room with a triple locking system and an unbreakable security setup.
The sunken living room was decorated in plush cream-colored couches and tan accessories. Two-story windows graced one whole wall and looked out across the pristine beach to the water beyond. A large glass coffee table sat in the middle of the room, tall candlesticks with chunky white candles perched on top.
The place looked like a museum. No dust, no cobwebs, no personal pictures that he could see. It was all glass and silky fabrics, designer paintings and expensive rugs. And totally not his taste.
He flopped onto an overstuffed chair done all in white silk stripes and hoped he wasn’t leaving a layer of dirt behind. His head fell back against the soft cushion as he closed his eyes. When this was over, when they cashed in their chips, he was gonna buy that bar and grill on the beach in Puerto Rico, the one he’d already scoped out, get his mother set up with the best care money could buy, and give her the remnants of the life she’d always deserved. He could do that for her, at least before it was over. If he got to feeling tied down, homesick, he’d take his boat out and escape until he felt better.
Just the thought of his sparkling sloop made him wish he were back in the Keys instead of stuck here. And thinking about being here brought him right back around to the mess they’d sidled into. He tried to work his brain around whom Winters could be working for. If it was really Landau or someone else.
Glass clinked against glass, the sound pulling his eyes open. Lisa left an open bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of him and sat on an adjacent chair.
Purple smudges under her eyes proved she was as tired as he was, but the concern lurking in her irises was what captured his attention and brought his conscience screaming to the forefront.
“Thought you might like something to drink. It’s been…a day.”
She had sympathy written all over her face. Her eyes were a soft meadow green, her voice tender and sweet. He knew if he reached for her right now she’d probably let him, wouldn’t even think to push him away, because she felt sorry for him. For his mother, for his screwed-up brother. He could see himself taking advantage of her battered defenses, sinking into all that warm womanly softness so he could get rid of some of that ache in his chest for a
few minutes, at least.
But that wouldn’t help. And it wasn’t the way he wanted her. Taking her to the hospital had been a monumental mistake, just as he’d known it would be. He didn’t want her empathy. He’d much rather have her pissed and fighting mad. That, at least, he knew how to handle.
He dredged up a nasty snarl that fit his surly mood, knowing it would get her to back off. “Careful, Querida. You’ve got pity fuck written all over that pretty face of yours. I don’t think you want to dangle that out there in my current mood.”
Stunned was a pretty good description of her reaction. To her credit though, she didn’t respond. Simply flashed him an in-your-dreams look, pursed her lips and left the room.
Smooth, Sullivan.
Disgusted with himself, he ran a hand over his hair, leaned forward and scratched the back of his head. She might be tough as nails made of super-strength steel, but the past few days had obviously worn her down. He hadn’t missed the flash of hurt in her eyes before she’d drawn up her shield, although he wished like hell he had.
Shiiiit.
What he should do is get off his ass, find a bedroom and lock himself in until he’d slept off the temper bubbling like lava in his blood. Before he said something that would make things worse. Before he did something he couldn’t undo.
So, hell if he knew why he pushed off the chair and headed the other way.
She was standing at the refrigerator when he stepped into the kitchen. Soft white light spilled over her, highlighting the curves at her waist and the long line of her throat, as she tipped a bottle of water to her lips and sipped.
Arousal seared his gut even though he tried like hell to clamp it down. He slipped his hands into his pockets and balled them into fists so he wasn’t tempted to reach for her. “Look. That was uncalled-for and totally out of line. I’m tired, and it’s been a pretty shitty day. So, I apologize.”
She closed the massive refrigerator and turned. “You’re apologizing? Wow, I…I just don’t know what to do with myself.”
He caught the smartass flash in her eyes. “Eat it up, Querida. It doesn’t happen often.”
“I know.”