by Sybil Bartel
André sighed. “You’re not going to like it.”
“With that ringin’ endorsement, I can’t wait.”
“I found out why Blaze hired me to watch over him and Layna on their honeymoon.”
I waited but he didn’t elaborate. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”
“Michael Maldonado.”
Michael was the cousin of James Maldonado, the man who’d killed Layna’s parents. After Blaze and I sunk the yacht James was on, Michael tried to take over the family business but he was arrested as an accomplice in Layna’s parents’ death. “He’s in jail.”
“Apparently it’s not slowing him down. He put a hundred-grand price on Layna’s head because she took down his cousin.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “She didn’t take down shit.” Blaze and I had.
“You try telling an incarcerated felon to let it go when he’s got nothing to do except think about revenge.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“I got nothing. He’s in jail and I can’t touch him unless I want to risk my business. That’s why I’m calling. I can protect Blaze and Layna from this end but it won’t stop until the source dries up.”
I knew what André was asking. Even though he’d started his own security firm after he’d gotten out of the Marines and had more business than he could handle, I had connections he didn’t.
Goddamn it. “I’ll make some calls.” This wasn’t a favor I wanted to call in. I didn’t mind doing my own dirty work but this kind of bullshit? It led to bad news.
“Copy.” André started to hang up.
“Wait.” Shit. “Blaze know you’re callin’ me?” Minus his wedding, things hadn’t been great between us. Months ago, I’d kissed Layna. In my defense, they hadn’t been a couple yet and the day it happened had been a fucked-up situation all the way around. Layna and I had moved past it but Blaze hadn’t.
“Who else would I call?”
The door opened and Nic, Tongue Nurse and a doctor walked in.
“I gotta go.” I hung up knowing André had purposely avoided answering my question. “Any fractures?” I asked the doc.
In his sixties, with shrewd eyes, the doctor didn’t bother with formalities. “Zygomatic arch, orbital rim and anterior maxillary wall are all fine. Scaphoid has a small hairline fracture. Four weeks with a brace should take care of it. Kelly will fit her with one.” He looked at Nic. “Ice and Advil. I can write you a prescription for something stronger if you prefer.”
Nic shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Any questions?” the doctor asked.
Nic shook her head again and the doctor walked out. Kelly, aka Tongue Nurse, followed, saying she’d be right back.
I sat Nic down in the only chair. “You got all that?”
She cradled her wrist and favored her thigh. “Yeah. Face fine, wrist broken.”
I fucking hated Randy. “Pretty much.”
“Did you date the nurse?” she asked, staring at her lap.
I leaned on the exam table. “Thought we went over this, darlin’. I don’t date.” I fuck. A lot. But I wasn’t about to volunteer that information.
Nic looked up. “But you slept with her?”
Her expression was so neutral, I didn’t have a clue what was going through her head. “Not sure I follow where you’re goin’ with this, or that it’s any of your business.”
“She’s pretty. How come you’re not seeing her anymore?”
I gave her my best smile. “You’re pretty.”
Kelly walked back in with a splint. “Okay, let’s get your wrist taken care of.” She spent the next few minutes fitting the brace on Nic and showing her how to tighten it and take it off for showers.
When she was finished, I helped Nic up and ushered her to the door. Right before we walked out, Kelly stopped me with a hand to my arm.
I looked over my shoulder at her, irritated.
“No more surfing accidents,” she warned.
“Not on my watch.” Randy was going to pay for this.
NIC WAS QUIET WHEN WE got back in the Challenger.
“You hungry?” It was well past lunchtime.
She stared out the window. “I’d rather have a shower.”
“Shower it is.” I turned around and headed toward my house. Pushing a button on the steering wheel, I gave the command to call the shop because if I called Kendall’s cell, she’d ignore me. After three rings she answered.
“Talon’s surf shop.” Kendall dragged the words out on a sigh.
“You forget the name of my business?”
“Fuck you,” she said, sounding bored.
Nic looked at me with wide eyes.
I snorted. “I’m all good, thanks. Say hi to Nic. You’re on speaker.”
“Did my asshole boss get you patched up?” Kendall asked, sounding only marginally less bored.
“He’s not an asshole.”
If I were a better man, I wouldn’t have smiled.
“I suppose where you’re coming from, it’s a matter of perspective,” Kendall said bluntly.
I didn’t disagree but I jumped down Kendall’s throat anyway. “Watch it, Kendall.”
“What? You think she doesn’t know what a piece of—”
“Point made,” Siren interrupted Kendall’s rant with a formal tone. “Thanks for your concern but I think you should save it for yourself.”
Damn. Assertive Siren was sexy. I cleared my throat to hide my chuckle. “Kendall, you’re closing tonight.”
“You do it,” she said stubbornly.
As much shit as she gave me on a daily basis, she wasn’t irresponsible so I ignored her. “Don’t lock up early.”
“Whatever.” She hung up.
“Is she always like that?” Siren asked.
“No.” I glanced at her and smiled. “She’s usually meaner.”
Siren turned back to the window. “Where are we going?”
“My house.” When she didn’t respond, an itch picked at my conscious. The thought of checking her into a hotel made my meager Southern chivalry bristle but I offered anyway. “You want me to get you a room instead?”
She let out a slow breath. “Your house is fine.”
I reached for her good hand. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know.” But the tone of her voice said otherwise.
“Not sure how many ways I can reassure you.” Convincing women they were safe with me wasn’t my MO.
“I’m not concerned about that.” She took her hand back.
Trying not to be irritated, I pulled into my driveway and cut the engine. Tired as shit, the past few days catching up with me, I wasn’t in the mood to dick around. “Listen, here’s the deal. I brought you to my house so you could shower and have a place to crash. I don’t have ulterior motives. I’m no hero but I’m not an asshole either. I’m not gonna leave you alone like this. I’d like some sort of consent from you that we’re on the same page, but I can’t read a fuckin’ thing behind that closed-off expression of yours.”
She stared straight ahead. “You’re honest.”
“To a fault,” I lied.
She nodded. “We’re on the same page.”
“Terrific,” I murmured, reaching for my door.
“I’m staying with you for one night?”
I knew it’d been too easy. Women were never easy. I looked at her and not only was the thought of one night not sitting well with me but I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going through her head. “Yes.”
“Okay.” She breathed out.
“Then we’ll reevaluate in the mornin’.”
Her chest rose and her shoulders went straight. “I’m not a charity case.”
“Never said you were.” Her reactions were starting to paint a picture that made my back teeth grind. Even if she were telling the truth about Randy’s violence being a one-time deal, he’d been treating her like shit. “C’mon, let’s get you somewhere mo
re comfortable.”
I helped her out of the car and led her inside. I showed her the guest room downstairs and told her to help herself to whatever she needed in the bathroom. She stared at the shower but didn’t say a word.
I leaned against the doorframe. “Keepin’ your leg dry isn’t gonna be easy with only one hand. You want help?”
Her face flushed. “No.”
She was fucking with my head. I needed to walk away but seeing her stand there, lost and vulnerable, it was making a part of me I thought was dead twist with shit I didn’t want to think about. “You sure?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You wanna use the Jacuzzi tub in my bathroom?” Having her in my bedroom was a bad idea. I needed to back the hell off.
“Um…” She looked around. “I’ll just wash my hair.”
Fuck this. I was no more going to leave her alone than she was going to be okay being left alone. I grabbed the wooden desk chair from the bedroom and hauled it into the walk-in shower. I took the handheld showerhead and turned the water on.
She glanced at the chair nervously. “What are you doing?”
“Washin’ your hair.” I felt the temperature of the water to make sure it was warm enough. “Sit.”
She bit her lower lip. “My shirt will get wet.”
“You can borrow a dry one.” I grabbed the shampoo and set it down by the chair. “C’mon, Siren. Nothin’ I ain’t done before.” I didn’t tell her the only other time I’d washed a woman’s hair, she’d been my wife.
She hesitated but then she gingerly sat.
Gathering her hair up, I leaned her head back. She closed her eyes and the bruising to her face looked a hundred times worse from this angle. “Gotta admit, darlin’, I’m not likin’ what I see.”
Her baby blues popped open. “What?”
“Close your eyes.” I wet her hair. “You’re too pretty to have your face lookin’ like you went three rounds.”
“It was an accident. It’ll heal.”
I picked up the shampoo. “How many excuses have you made for him?”
“I’m not a victim, Talon.”
I washed her hair, hating the reason I was doing it. “Sure as shit could’ve fooled me.”
She grabbed one of my wrists with her good hand and met my eyes. “Stop.”
I ran my fingers through the soapy length of her strands and made a decision. Lowering my voice, I held her gaze. “You know when I’m gonna stop?”
She didn’t answer me.
“When I see you bury him.” Fuck, I was pissed.
“I’m not vengeful.”
Good, because I was feeling vengeful enough for both of us. “And you’re not stupid.”
She stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Fucking perfect, because I didn’t want to either. “That makes two of us.”
“Talon?”
The sound of my name on her lips made my lungs inhale and the bullshit in my head pause. “Yeah?” Gorgeous eyes, delicate features, quiet resilience—Jesus, she was beautiful.
“This hurts. Can you please rinse my hair?”
Shit. “On it.” I quickly finished and helped her sit up. I grabbed a towel and dried her hair as best as I could. “You got a brush?”
“I can do it.” She didn’t move.
“I know you can.” I squatted next to her. “But I need you to do me a favor.”
“What,” she asked wearily.
“Let me help you.”
She studied my face like she was making the biggest decision of her life. “My brush is in my bag.”
I smiled for real and touched her cheek, knowing a victory when I got one. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No.” Nothing changed in her expression.
I stood and on impulse, kissed her forehead. “Be right back.” I grabbed her bag from the bedroom, unzipped it, then set it at her feet.
She silently reached in and I watched in fascination as she moved through her belongings with a gentle hand. Her search, unhurried and graceful, didn’t disturb a single picture or any of her hastily folded clothes. She pulled out a silver brush with antique scrollwork all over it and gave it to me.
“Hand-me-down?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said simply.
I fingered her hair into a loose ponytail and held it while I brushed through the ends. Seeing her quiet composure and dignity despite her circumstances, I was having a hard time understanding how she’d hooked up with an asshole like Carter. Then again, I was sure people said the same shit about me and my wife when we’d gotten together. She’d been all class and I wasn’t.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” she commented.
I shoved back a memory. “No, darlin’, it isn’t.”
“What was her name?”
“Who?”
“The woman you loved.”
The only other woman I’d ever done this for, her hair had been thick and dark brown. I swallowed past the lump in my throat at the thought of my wife and worked out the tangles in Siren’s blonde hair. “Leigh,” I said roughly.
“You did this for her?”
“Yeah.” Fuck.
“She taught you well.”
“It was a long time ago,” I admitted.
“And?”
I concentrated on running the brush through the fine strands. “And what?”
“It sounds like you left half of that sentence unsaid. What’s the last part?”
Who was this woman? I never spoke about my past with anyone, but her unassuming acceptance had me wanting to spill my guts within an hour. Quiet, reserved, untainted by anger, she was so fucking complicated, I had a feeling I hadn’t even begun to see her layers. “What makes you think there’s more?”
“Instinct.”
Christ. “I used to be trainable.” Before I’d had my heart ripped out. Now I wasn’t. I didn’t do love or any of the other bullshit that came with it.
“You’re not anymore?”
“No.”
She was quiet a moment. “The brush was my grandmother’s.”
I took note of the personal information she parceled out but I didn’t comment. I made a few more passes with the brush then set it down and ran my fingers through the strands because I wanted to. “All done.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’ll let you finish up.” I needed to get the hell out of here before I did something stupid, like pull her into my arms. “Meet me upstairs in the kitchen when you’re done.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I took the stairs two at a time. Pulling out my phone, I strode through my bedroom to my deck, already dialing.
“I GOT A PROBLEM.”
Candle laughed. “Lemme guess. Blonde, blue-eyed, five-nothing, face of an angel?”
I didn’t want to discuss Siren with him yet. “She’s not the problem.”
“Women are always a problem.”
No shit. “Know anythin’ about the illegal trafficking that goes through the port of Miami?”
“This doesn’t sound like a conversation we should be having over the phone.”
“I’m on a time constraint.”
Candle sighed. “I’ll call you back.” A second later¸ a blocked number came up on my display.
“Better?” I asked.
“Marginally. Start talking.”
“You know the Maldonado family?”
“Dirty fuckers, all of them. Glad the patriarch is dead.”
“His cousin’s in the correctional facility in Miami.”
“So I heard.”
“He’s puttin’ hits out from the comfort of his cell.”
“I can see where that could be a problem,” he said cautiously.
“You got any members in lockup down there?”
“I’m not looking to start a turf war.”
I gave the only piece of information I knew he’d take offense at. “Th
e hit is on a twenty-year-old woman.”
Candle cursed. “Fucking asshole has no boundaries.”
“I hear he’s tryin’ to cut a deal,” I lied. “Wants to snitch on anyone who’ll get him walkin’ papers. Word is he’s already got the Feds’ ear and he’s not a fan of bikers.” I didn’t know what past, if any, Maldonado had with any bikers, let alone the club Candle belonged to, but I took the gamble and played it because chances were they’d crossed paths plenty of times.
Candle snorted. “Deal like that can shorten a man’s lifespan.”
That was what I was hoping. “So I hear.”
“And rumors about a snitch can spread fast…given the right kinda push.”
Now I was getting somewhere. “Sounds like his days are numbered.”
“Could be,” he said noncommittally. “Or maybe he should be counting his hours.”
Even better. “No one likes a snitch.”
“Amen, brother.”
He hadn’t served with me and I didn’t trust him for shit. He wasn’t my fucking brother but I let it slide. “Later.”
“Hey. Anything else you wanna share with me?” he asked pointedly.
“Not yet.” Randy would know soon enough I was coming for him.
Candle muttered something about cowboys and I hung up.
I stood on the deck, breathing in the fresh salt air a few minutes before I walked back into my room. Heading for my home office, I stopped short. Wrapped in a towel, her back to me, Siren was looking at the suits in my closet I rarely wore.
“You lost?” I asked casually.
She didn’t turn around. “You have nice clothes.”
“They were a gift.” I had no fucking clue why I told her that.
She fingered one of my custom-made dress shirts. “From who?”
“Ex-wife.”
“She has good taste.”
I told myself not to but I did it anyway. I let the goddamn cat out of the bag. “Had.”
She turned and took in my expression like she was reading my soul. “Had?”
Seeing the bruising on Siren’s delicate face, something strange happened. My heart didn’t take its usual blow over the thought of my dead wife. Instead, it took a hit seeing Siren’s bruising. “She’s dead.”
Nothing changed in Siren’s expression. “Leigh?”