Rise: Rise & Fall Duet Book 1 (Shaken 3)

by Grahame Claire

  I’d never wanted like this. Never craved the nearness.

  He kissed me as if he knew exactly the way I needed to be touched.

  As if he were the only one who could draw a reaction from me.

  As if I belonged to him.

  My heart thundered in my ears. I couldn’t break away, even though my head warned me to stop. That this was the point of no return. If I kept plowing ahead, Eric and I would get hurt.

  And then he cradled my face as if I were the most precious thing in the world.

  I pried my eyes open to find all of his intensity boring into me.

  My insides rattled from the power of that gaze.

  He peeled his lips from mine but didn’t release me.

  “Hi,” I finally squeaked.

  He brushed his thumb across my cheek. Instead of my heartbeat returning to normal, it raced ahead, so hard I thought it might explode.

  “You kissed my sister.”

  I jumped at Eric’s voice and scrambled back.

  Lincoln twined his fingers with mine, clearly not as embarrassed at being caught as I was.

  “Is that okay with you?”

  I whipped my head toward Lincoln. He wasn’t exactly an ask permission kind of guy.

  Eric shrugged. “Sure. As long as you’re nice to her.”

  I wanted to melt into the carpet. These two both caught me off guard with their thoughtfulness.

  “I’m okay with it too.” Beau grinned from where she leaned in the doorway.

  Caught by both siblings. I was hot for a completely different reason than I had been a moment ago.

  Lincoln, as usual, didn’t seem fazed in the least.

  “Hey, Beau.” Eric waved.

  Muffy sat up and propped his head on the back of the couch.

  “Hey, Eric.”

  “Sis, can we have donuts for breakfast?” Our favorite shop wasn’t far, but that was a habit we couldn’t start, especially when we’d already had them this week.

  “Yeah, Lex. Can we have donuts?” Beau was such a troublemaker.

  All eyes were on me, and I caved to peer pressure. “Fine, but we have to have fruit as a snack later.”

  “We could have smoothies while we wait,” Beau suggested.

  “I’ll pick up the donuts.” Lincoln winked.

  “Have you ever had one?” It was a fair question considering he hadn’t ever eaten strawberry ice cream.

  “A long time ago.” He squeezed my fingers.

  “What do you eat?’

  He’d missed out on all my favorite food groups.

  “A balanced diet.” He kissed my cheek. “You prefer chocolate glazed, correct?”

  I couldn’t believe he’d paid attention to what I’d been chowing down on a few days ago.

  “You get bonus points for noticing.”

  “Is there anything else I need to pick up?” He swiped his keys off the desk.

  “Milk,” Eric said.

  Lincoln nodded and strode to the door, and I struggled to get this odd moment sorted in my head. We stayed overnight with Lincoln. He welcomed that, especially with that kiss. He was going to get our . . . breakfast, as if he did it every other day. It wasn’t just me and Eric against the world today.

  Beau put a hand on his chest. “Need my credit card? Just in case.”

  And now he potentially needed Beau’s help? What in the world was happening?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lincoln

  “I’ve got bad news.”

  I shoved my laptop away and leaned back in my chair.

  “I only want to hear positive developments.”

  Muffy put his head in my lap. Absently, I rubbed my fingers through his soft fur.

  “Then talk to Santa Claus,” Zegas snapped. “The title insurance you purchased that should cover this disaster . . .”

  He paused for what I felt sure was dramatic effect. I petted Muffy with sporadic strokes.

  “Spit it out,” I growled.

  “You bought it and have the paperwork. Problem is Titan Title never followed through with the transaction with the insurance company.”

  I grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed. “Are you telling me I’m about to be left holding nothing but a bunch of worthless pieces of paper?”

  “All I’m saying is this is going to be more of challenge. Lucky for you, I like it that way.”

  In this situation, I’d have preferred a slam dunk.

  “What about Whitley’s contact? The expert in real estate law?”

  “Dixon? He’s the one who figured out about the title insurance.”

  At least the team wasn’t sitting around doing nothing.

  “I’m still locating files.”

  “If you send over one more, I’m pretty sure Whitley’s assistant is going to put out a hit on you.” Zegas’s laugh was deep and throaty.

  “Has he met you?” I fired back.

  “Oh, he despises me. I hire a bodyguard if he comes to the office with Whitley. I refuse to be alone with the man.”

  Muffy pawed at my leg. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped petting him. And when I didn’t resume fast enough, he nudged me again.

  “What are my rights as far as my assets? Can they freeze them without notification?” I was fine for now, but I’d need access to them soon.

  He laughed again, this time the sound bitter. “It’s the federal government. They can do whatever the hell they want to.” A rustling came from the other end of the line as if he’d shifted in a chair. “I hope you’ve got something stashed away. Who knows how long it will take them to unfreeze them. And I don’t work pro bono.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him to send the bill to my father, but thought better of it before I did. Zegas and Whitley had helped my brother. They appeared to be working in my favor as well. But I wasn’t sure what their relationship was with Father.

  “Relax, Hollingsworth. I’m working on your money too. That’s in my best interest.”

  “I’m glad to know where your priorities are.”

  “You might have more of a stick up your ass than Elliott. I can’t imagine a conversation between the two of you.”

  Concise. To the point. No wasted words on frivolous subjects.

  “Hopefully, you’ll never be privy to one.”

  Zegas laughed once more, though I didn’t see the humor.

  “Look, I usually try to stay out of family shit. But you should know that your father calls me no less than twice a day for an update on your case. He seems more concerned than you.”

  If Zegas thought this information would surprise me, he was sorely mistaken.

  “Give him enough to keep him happy without divulging anything of consequence.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Glad we’re on the same page.”

  “It’s best to handle him delicately.”

  He made a noncommittal noise. “I assume you’re aware of his relationship with Hal Mercer.”

  “They’ve been friends for years. That’s why we did so much business with Titan.”

  That was the nature of the world we played in. Connections were almost the most important aspect.

  “Why did you stop?”

  I fingered Muffy’s ears. “I felt it was an area we could capitalize on if we started our own title division at Hollingsworth.”

  “Did you get any pushback from Samuel?”

  Was there any other way when it came to my father?

  “Yes. Eventually, after he saw the potential, he agreed.”

  The issue hadn’t been an all-out war between us, though I’d fought harder for that than anything else I could recall when it came to the business. I’d showed him concrete expenditures, high and low profit projections, and one day after months of stringing me along, he agreed.

  “Were you aware Hal and your father had a falling out?”

  For a man who claimed not to have made much ground on my issue, he certainly knew more than he’d let on.

  “I am,
but I don’t know over what. It seems natural when a longtime customer and friend takes his business elsewhere, there’s bound to be disagreement.”

  A pen tapped on his end of the line. “I need your tax returns for as far back as you have.”

  “Why?” I had no issue giving them to the man. It wasn’t as if he could advertise my personal business to the public without consequence. But I failed to see how the information was relevant to my property dilemma.

  “You said when the agent came to arrest you, the charge was securities fraud and tax evasion. I want to dig through the tax element first . . . unless you want to fess up and save me the trouble.”

  I was grateful we weren’t in the same room. The urge to throttle him was strong. “I’ll have my accountant send them to your office.”

  “Wonderful. But I want your copies also.”

  “Shouldn’t they be the same?” A throbbing started at the base of my skull.

  “Let me do what I do best.”

  “I’ll have something to you within the hour.”

  “I need you to sign a disclosure you’re okay with a forensic accountant examining the returns as well.”

  I stifled a groan. This was all completely unnecessary, yet impossible to avoid. “Send it over.” It appeared we’d moved the focus from the securities fraud aspect of the charges to tax evasion.

  Zegas’s voice was muffled as he said something that sounded like porterhouse. “You’re a pain in the ass, Hollingsworth. But a cooperative pain in the ass.”

  “I wish I could say the same of you.” The drumbeat in my head marched to my temples. “Call me if anything develops.”

  “One more thing,” he said when I had the phone halfway away from my ear. “Let’s meet for dinner. I want to talk to you about your mother’s murder.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lexie

  “Is Lincoln your boyfriend?”

  I willed patience into my tone before I answered Eric’s question.

  “No.”

  “But you kissed him.”

  I gripped the steering wheel, unprepared for how to respond. I’d never considered we’d be in this situation, given Eric had been the only man in my life.

  “I did.” Well, that was inadequate.

  “Because you like him.”

  Yet another question I didn’t know the answer to. Yes and no were both accurate.

  “Lincoln’s a good guy.” My brother’s certainty was contagious.

  “He can be . . .” I said carefully.

  “Can you believe my painting is on his wall? That’s awesome.”

  Lincoln had made my brother inordinately happy with the simple gesture. Therefore, the needle moved more firmly into the good guy category.

  “It looks perfect there.”

  The painting was nothing like the art I’d seen propped against a chair which I assumed Eric’s piece had replaced. I could imagine Lincoln sitting behind his desk, the painting drawing his attention. What did he think about when he looked at what Eric had given him?

  “What time can we see Millie?”

  I shook my head to get on track with the pendulum of topics.

  My phone vibrated in the cupholder. Eric swiped it before I had a chance.

  “Hello?”

  I’d made a concerted effort to keep the device away from my brother in case of any other calls from our father. His silence since the other day made me more nervous than the continuous efforts to communicate.

  “Hey, Lincoln. We’ve had a busy day. Can we come see you when we deliver to Mrs. Johnson’s building?” Eric’s expression brightened. “Cool! Okay, I’ll put her on.” He offered me the phone. “It’s Lincoln,” he whispered loudly.

  I slipped in my earbuds, my heart picking up pace.

  “Hi.”

  “Do I need to request dog food for you to accept my calls?”

  I couldn’t help it. I smiled. Huge.

  “Still no greeting,” I tsked.

  “You’ll get your hello later.”

  The decadent promise made my stomach flip-flop. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Why don’t you make Mrs. Johnson your last stop today.”

  I flipped on a turn signal and checked the rearview. “Hmm. I’ll have to ask my business partner if he’s okay with that.”

  “If I’m okay with what?” Eric asked desperately.

  “I’m putting you on speaker.” I handed the phone back to my brother.

  “I’d like you to rearrange your evening schedule to make Mrs. Johnson your last delivery.” Lincoln made it sound as if it were a choice, but it was impossible to say no to that voice.

  “Okay. Can we come see you and Muffy and Beau after?”

  And just like that, Lincoln got exactly what he wanted. The part I didn’t know was why. And I didn’t care. Eric was beyond happy.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Umm, slick? How are we supposed to get into the garage and the bat elevator without your thumbprint?” I merged into the turn lane.

  “Leave that to me. See you soon.”

  “He said to touch the key pad.”

  Eric pressed his thumb to the keypad by Lincoln’s elevator. In a few seconds, it opened. His mouth formed an O that probably matched mine.

  Once we were closed inside, the elevator ascended. Access granted, it seemed.

  How he’d programmed Eric’s thumbprint . . . I wasn’t going to ask.

  When we arrived on Lincoln’s floor, the double front doors were open.

  “Lincoln?” I called as we stepped into the foyer.

  Paws clicking on the floors grew closer.

  Muffy appeared around the corner like lightning . . . and . . . another dog was on his heels?

  “Millie!” Eric shouted. He dropped to his knees and the two dogs peppered him with licks. He giggled as he tried to pet them both.

  Lincoln leaned against the wall, arms folded, with his version of a smile on his face.

  He’d done this. For Eric.

  I ate up the space between us in quick strides, stopping just before I reached him. I pressed up on my toes and brushed my lips against his.

  He pulled me against him and kissed me deeper.

  “Isn’t that the best version of hello?” His voice was deep and teasing.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.”

  “Muffy! Millieeee!” Eric was on his back, both dogs still licking him.

  Lincoln snapped and they both stopped and sat straight. Eric grinned and put his arms around Millie, hugging her tightly.

  “Are you hungry?” Lincoln looked intently at me.

  But the dogs bolted toward him, mistakenly thinking the question was directed at them.

  “You said the magic words,” I teased.

  Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

  I fished my phone from my pocket. Eric and the dogs moved to the kitchen with Lincoln and me close behind.

  I held up my finger and paused in the doorway. Eric opened the refrigerator and grabbed the dog food as if this were our apartment.

  “Hello.” I pressed the phone to my ear.

  Muffy barked, and I turned my back to the ensuing chaos.

  “Ms. Logan?”

  “This is she.”

  “This is Mrs. Shepherd with adult protective services.”

  I twirled a piece of my hair. Every once in a while they called to schedule a home visit, and I was grateful they did, even though it was so I could continue to receive money from the state to care for my brother.

  “What can I do for you?” I’d never spoken with her before. Had Mrs. Thompson retired?

  “I’m at your apartment for the yearly home visit. Will you be back soon? I'd like to meet with you.”

  They’d rarely dropped in unannounced, particularly after the first few years Eric had been in my custody. But this woman was clearly newly assigned to our case. And I completely understood the need for drop-in visits. How else could they get the real picture of what was going o
n in a home?

  “It will be a few hours,” I said, a little panicked. We had to accommodate them. They held so much power. But we also had dog food to make. “I know you need to do a home visit, but would it be possible for us to meet in the middle somewhere for the interview?”

  “That would be fine,” she said tightly. “Where would you like to meet?”

  I rattled off the address to the commercial kitchen. Maybe I should’ve just agreed to come home. Why hadn’t I done that? I knew better than to make them jump through hoops.

  “I can be there in forty-five minutes," Mrs. Shepherd said before I had a chance to offer to come to her.

  “Sounds great," I said with false cheer. “See you then.”

  I ended the call and swallowed the lump in my throat as nerves took over. What if I’d done something unacceptable? What if she thought I wasn't doing a good job with Eric?

  A strong hand clamped on my shoulder. “Everything okay?”

  I drew in a steadying breath. “That was adult protective services. Eric and I need to go meet them.”

  His brow creased. “Is this late notice customary?”

  “Sometimes. This is someone new. I told her we could meet at the kitchen.”

  He swiped his keys off the console table. “Want me to drive?”

  I stopped mid-grab of my purse. “Did you just ask?” I touched his forehead, pretending to check for fever. “Who are you and what have you done with Mr. Pushy?”

  “I thought I was Mr. Scowl? Or was it Mr. Stoic?” He let out a low whistle as he picked up Muffy and Millie’s leashes. “Do you have any kennels in the van?”

  “No.”

  He offered me the leashes. “Can you take them? Teague gave me a couple of collapsible kennels.”

  Eric followed the dogs who raced to the foyer. “Where are we going?”

  “To the kitchen.” I tried to infuse enthusiasm in my voice but wasn’t sure how it came out.

  “Are we going to eat first?”

  Muffy and Millie swirled toward him, though they were careful not to knock him down.

  I tried and failed to loop Millie with her leash. Her tail wagged like we were playing a fun game.

  “We will.” I made another attempt . . . and failed again.