Regan Harris Box Set

by Kelly Wood

  “Why do you think he would be a problem?” Costa asked.

  Franky hesitated. “He’s tried to ruin any shot I’ve had to better myself. He’s shown up at school drunk and started fights with teachers. He’s tried to mess with my crews on the streets. He’s jealous and drunk and dangerous. He would sniff out any work I was doing for you and try to dip his hand into the till, too. He’s a danger.”

  Costa met Antonio’s eyes, passing a silent message. Antonio gave a small nod.

  “He, unfortunately, is proving a problem for all of us. It is a fair and accurate assessment of him.” Costa leaned back in his chair, looking Franky in the eyes before speaking. “I suspect at the rate he is going, an accident is going to come his way.”

  Franky absorbed the information. This was his moment, his chance, a test to his loyalty. He could put a stop to the accident. He could protect his father in a way that his father never protected him. Or, he could take this chance, show Costa and Antonio he had what it took. That he had the guts to make the tough calls. Even when they were personal.

  “That’s too bad for dear old Dad. My mother will be heartbroken. Initially.” Franky made his choice. He wouldn’t lose any sleep over his decision.

  “Your mother has life insurance on him. It will be a blessing. After some time, of course,” Costa said.

  “You up for the challenge, kid?” Antonio asked.

  Frank thought it over. The plus side was easy. College education, learning a business from the top dogs. Having plenty of one-on-one time to ask questions and understand it from all angles. It was a huge opportunity. One he didn’t want to pass up.

  The downside was a bit trickier. It would also mean a lifetime of working with Costa. A lifetime of being one step ahead of him. Always having to be smarter. Am I up for it? Franky wondered.

  Franky was smart enough to see the writing on the wall. Costa eventually wanted Antonio out. And for Costa, what could be better than training his replacement personally? Franky looked at Antonio’s smiling face and made a decision.

  He stood up and reached his hand out for Costa’s, sealing the deal. Costa’s smile told Franky he’d made the right decision. Franky realized if he’d turned him down, there might be two accidents in the family. Antonio slapped him on the back in congratulations.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I wrapped my arms tighter around Gray’s neck as he carried me down the hallway. Frank gifted us with a suite of our own for our honeymoon escape. People shouted out congratulations as Gray swept by with me in his arms. I sent out little finger waves to those close to us.

  My heart sped up as we neared our room. Virginal flutters caused my stomach to stir. This night wouldn’t be a first for us, but it almost felt like it. Waiting for the party to dissipate, Gray and I snuck little glances and quick kisses, the anticipation of what lay ahead building. We finally kicked everyone out and practically ran to the elevator.

  “You could put me down,” I suggested, but was secretly pleased when he denied me.

  “We haven’t crossed the threshold, yet.”

  “How gallant.”

  “Fancy word, Mrs. Thomas.” The name left a sour taste in my mouth, like I’d been sucking on a lemon.

  “That sounds so old. Mrs.” I shuddered in Gray’s arms.

  Gray laughed. “Get used to it. It’s stuck to you like glue now.”

  I leaned down and unlocked the door. I swung it open wide so Gray could sweep into the room with me in his arms. I watched the door slowly close behind him. I anticipated the moment of privacy, holding my breath for the night to come. The door eased home, softly clicking as it closed completely. I looked into Gray’s eyes, ready for the next move. His arms released their hold on me and I slid down his body to stand in front of him. Gray leaned down, our lips barely touching. My heart beat against my chest. I wanted this moment to last forever and speed up at the same time. I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. We had all night, no need to take our time.

  The fire alarm went off.

  A string of curse words flew from my mouth before I sent up a little apology. Gray grabbed my hand, pulling me through the doorway and toward the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

  “Do we really need to leave?” Gray looked over his shoulder at me, bewilderment marring his face. “I’m just suggesting maybe it’s a false alarm and we are running for no reason.”

  Gray pushed open the stairwell door, pulling me down the first flight. I pulled against Gray’s hand to stop moving down the stairs. I bent over to remove my heels. I’d rather expose myself to germs than run down twenty-some flights in high-heeled shoes.

  “Regan, so far this week the pool has exploded, your hair was burned off, and someone jumped – or was thrown – off a balcony in this hotel. Do you really want to take the chance that the alarm is false?”

  “Good point.” I held my shoes in my left hand and Gray’s hand in my right. As we descended each flight, the stairwell grew more crowded. People pushed and clawed to reach the bottom floors. I lost my grip on the shoes but didn’t stop to try and pick them up. The crowd would trample me like a herd of enraged rhinos.

  Gray kept an iron lock on my hand, keeping me next to him. His presence was the only thing keeping the anxiety at bay. The warm bodies pressing into me and the cries of fear were causing my heart to race and my breath to come in gasps. My palms were slick with sweat. I searched wildly for an escape. I needed air. Fresh air. The pressing bodies felt claustrophobic. I gasped again but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the tiny space.

  We rounded the next landing and prepared to push our way down the next flight of stairs. I scanned the crowd below us hoping to see it thinning. The door to the floor was open, admitting even more people and smoke. Screams grew louder as the crowd realized the fire was real.

  A man held the door open, his face covered with a towel to block smoke inhalation. He barked words of encouragement as he used his free hand to usher people into the stairwell. The flood of extra bodies paused our descent to the next floor until the last person was through the door and into the stairwell. We slowly started down again, trying to stay calm.

  Gray and I neared the door, but instead of joining the crowd on the stairs, the man with the towel stepped back into the hallway. The door started to close, narrowing the gap. Time slowed as our eyes locked through the window. I knew him. I just couldn’t remember the context. The memory tugged on my brain. I searched his features for a clue. His scalp showed where his stubble was growing. His eyes were clear and sharp. His brows dark and strong. Above them a puckered scar ran across his upper forehead to his right temple. The scar was completely healed and looked years old but clearly hadn’t been stitched up well. I touched the scar under my chin. It was twenty years old and barely noticeable. My parents had insisted on a plastic surgeon sewing it up after I lost a fight with the monkey bars. They were concerned about a large scar since the cut was on my face.

  As Gray and I made the turn, the man and I kept our eyes locked on one another. With only an inch left to see through, commotion behind him had me looking over his shoulder. Sal and Tony ran toward the man. The guy looked over his shoulder and then back to me quickly. He pushed the door closed completely, cutting me off from seeing any more. As the door clicked shut, my memory snapped into place. I’d watched the same man swim across the pool and blow up the glass wall. I tugged on Gray’s arm to let me go, but he held on tighter. I tried to yell above the din of the crowd and get his attention. My message was lost in the noise. As a last resort, I tried pointing and sign language, but gave up when I remembered I didn’t know sign language. We made the final turn and spilled through the open doorway into the side lot, butting up against the sixth-hole fairway. Gray and I distanced ourselves from the crowd, leaving them in the parking lot as we made our way to the golf course. The grass felt cool and inviting under my feet. I stumbled away and sat down as soon as I lumbered past the crowd. I wrapped my arms around my legs and wiggled my
toes into the grass. The feeling helped center me. Being barefoot on grass had always helped to clear my mind.

  Gray stood next to me scanning the crowd and the hotel. Smoke billowed out of openings but flames couldn’t be seen anywhere. I concentrated on my breathing and slowing my heart down before it raced right out of me. Sirens grew louder as emergency vehicles neared the scene.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked. Gray ignored the question. He raised his hand to his lips and gave an ear-piercing whistle before raising his hand above his head and waving. Before I could ask who he was signaling, Passion’s squeal of excitement burst through the crowd. She jogged over to us with Frank on her heels. Passion tackled me to the ground.

  “Thank God, Regan. We need you, please!”

  I drenched my voice in sarcasm and mocking, “Oh, Regan, are you okay? I was sooo worried about you. I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Oh, Regan, stop.” Passion moved to sit next to me and pulled me into a seated position as well. “This is serious. We need your help.”

  “I can’t help you, Passion! Don’t you get that? I’m a writer, not a detective.” I threw my arms up in exasperation and laid back down on the grass. The grass tickled the back of neck, a new feeling for the exposed skin.

  “Gray, talk some sense into her,” Passion said.

  “She’s right. She’s not a detective. What do you expect her to do? Passion, don’t you get the danger that’s involved?” Passion stood up and stalked over to Gray. She rose up onto her tippy-toes and tried to go nose-to-nose with him. He still towered over her.

  I thought about seeing Sal and Tony in the smoke-filled hallway. I looked around the crowd outside of the hotel but didn’t see them anywhere. Gray was right. This was more dangerous than any of us realized if the Bianchi sons were behind the vandalism. I opened my mouth to speak but clamped it shut, not wanting to say anything until I could talk to Gray alone.

  “Either you get her to help us or I will tell her your little secret.”

  “Passion...” Frank’s voice pleaded.

  “Tell me what?” I asked. I stood up and put my hand on Passion’s shoulder, pulling her away from Gray. I looked between them. Gray’s face turned to stone while Passion’s was full of guilt.

  “Tell. Me,” I said.

  “You don’t know who he is and what he comes from.”

  I laughed. I laughed hard. I crossed my arm over my stomach, bent at the waist and laughed until my sides hurt.

  “We shouldn’t discuss this now,” Frank said after I calmed down.

  “No, Frank.” I raised my arm to stop him from coming closer before turning my fury on Passion. “I know exactly who he is, what he is and what his family is. Got it? I also know who he is.” I pointed to Frank. “What I don’t know is how my sister could think I’d marry someone I didn’t know, or how my sister could keep a secret from me about the man I was to marry. Be more than a pretty face, Passion.”

  I turned and headed to the parking garage. I didn’t have a car to go to, but it was away from them. Gray stepped in beside me and placed his hand on the small of my back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “How dare you, Regan. Get back here.” Passion stomped over and halted me. I turned on her.

  “How dare I? You’ve done nothing but lie to me since I got here.” I started ticking off examples using my fingers for emphasis. “The suite upstairs? Nice digs for a dancer. Your relationship with Frank? Why our family is really here? Why I’m the one writing the story on the hotel?”

  “The family is here for your stupid wedding. Nobody wanted to come ‘just for my show.’”

  “Maybe if you stuck with something longer than two months, we’d be supportive.” The world around me shrank down to just Passion and I. Frank and Gray disappeared. The crowds and the hotel vanished. The sirens and lights from the emergency vehicles were silenced by the blood pounding through my veins. I only saw Passion and the feelings between us.

  “We can’t all be perfect like you. Mom and Dad brag about you like you hung the moon,” Passion yelled.

  “Oh, please. They’re parents. They brag on all of us.”

  “Not true. It’s Regan this, and Regan that. How’s anyone supposed to live up to that?”

  “I dropped out of college. I’m homeless. And I can carry all of my worldly possessions on my back. There’s not a lot there to brag about.” My anger propelled me closer to her. If I still had my heels on, I’d be nose-to-nose with her.

  “That’s the point! ‘Regan follows her passion. Regan can do anything she sets her mind to. Regan. Regan. Regan.” The venom coming off her words struck my heart, but I didn’t back down.

  “Stop being a drama queen. You’re beautiful. I wish I was half as pretty as you are.”

  “That’s the point!”

  “How many points do you have?”

  “Regan does and Passion is. You make things happen. You push through until you’ve achieved the goal. I. Just. Am. One day my prettiness will be gone. What will be left?”

  My anger dissipated and my heart broke for my little sister. Passion was the pretty one. Peyton was the kind sister. Me, the adventurous one. It really wasn’t all her fault. She’d been fawned over for her looks her whole life. She never had to work to be the smart one. She never had to set goals and work to achieve them. Because of her looks, people fell over themselves to give her things and just be near her. She’d never had to really try at anything. But I’d been witness to her putting her all into this one show. She may have thrown it all away after the run was over, but for now, she was actually trying and working toward something. I ignored the fact that with Frank as her boyfriend, she may not really have had to try all that hard.

  I sat down on the grass and patted the area next to me. Passion’s shoulders slumped as she deflated. She plopped down next to me. I put my arm around her and pulled her head onto my shoulder.

  “Passion, did I ever tell you the story of Ben when I was in college?”

  “That guy you dated?” she asked.

  “Yes. He almost broke me. Almost.” I related the story to her. Coming home to an empty apartment while the doorman dumped me. Thanks to our run-in in Chicago recently, I was able to tell the story without emotion. I’d finally put it in the past. “Here’s my point, Passion. I learned to be strong and push. I learned to fight for what I wanted. A lot of the lessons came from Gray. He encouraged me to go after my dreams. I wasn’t born this way. I learned it with age and trials and failures.”

  “Ugh, the doorman, huh? Rough.” I laughed out loud. Passion focused on the doorman and not my heartfelt speech. Oh well, you can’t win them all.

  “It was rough. At the time.”

  “Does this mean you’ll help us, Regan?”

  “No.”

  “Come on! You’re my big sister, you’re supposed to help me.” Just like that, the moment was gone. Passion and I both got to our feet, ready to square off again.

  Passion tried every tactic she’d used since she was four. She begged and pleaded and cajoled. She tried whining, humor and just looking cute. Her switching of tactics made me dizzy, and her whining made me nauseated. It wasn’t cute at any age. I was over it. I just wanted the truth. “We’re not six anymore. Stop trying to manipulate. It’s your turn to come clean.”

  “Fine.” Passion pouted and kicked at the grass with her foot before she continued. Passion mumbled her words. “I set it all up.”

  I cupped my hand behind my ear.

  “I set it all up,” she said more clearly.

  “And...”

  “I asked Frank to request you when he told me about the article.”

  “Why?” I asked, rolling my hand for her to keep going.

  Passion kicked around at the ground some more. My temper flared again. I started to leave.

  “Wait. You always cancel your trips here at the last minute. You writing the article would guarantee a visit. The wedding guaranteed everyone else coming out for my show.”r />
  “Why’d you have to manipulate everything? You could’ve just asked. We would’ve come.”

  “Because I needed you.”

  “I got it. You needed me to snoop around.”

  “No. Well, yes, but not just that. I needed you. Listen, it used to be me trailing after you and Peyton, but now you’re all too busy. Peyton has her kids and she loves being a mom. You have Gray and your travels. You are always off doing something and don’t have time for me. You both left me behind.”

  Guilt warred inside of me. I’d always felt protective of Passion. Peyton and I both nurtured her and babied her, but when I took off with Gray I didn’t give her a second thought.

  “I’m not letting you make me feel guilty over living my life. We didn’t leave you behind. It was just time for you to stand on your own.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I swear!” Passion reached for my hands. “I just wanted my big sister. I wanted to have fun like we used to. I wanted you to see me on stage and be proud of me.”

  “Oh, honey. I am proud of you. You work hard at your craft, but I’m not proud of your behavior. You were raised better than that.”

  “Now you sound like Mom.”

  I bristled at the accusation but pulled Passion into my arms anyway. “Are you done being a brat?” Her affirmation was muffled against my neck. I rubbed her back and held her against me. Her height made the hug awkward, but neither of us minded.

  “Are you going to help me?” Passion asked.

  “Why does this mean so much to you?”

  “Because I love him and he’s hurting.” Passion pulled back and looked me in the eye. “I can’t stand seeing him like this. Please.”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly before answering. I looked at Gray. He nodded his acceptance but I knew I would live to regret this. “Fine.”

  “Regan? One more thing?” I tensed my muscles in preparation of her next words. “I am more than a pretty face, right?”