Jayce cracked one eye open and saw his sister for the first time that night, though he’d spent several hours with her earlier. Weariness darkened the delicate skin beneath her eyes and clouded her normally bright gaze. Her shoulders, scant as they were, slumped ever-so-slightly as she curled herself into the large chair. She looked small, and as much as he hated to admit it, fragile.
All the reasons he’d insisted on staying with her pushed through his own problems to bring swift and immediate concern. Mom said this time of year was hard on Jordan. The memories dragged her down. Jasmine’s wedding couldn’t be helping things either. Lowering his elbows to his knees, he leaned forward to study her more closely. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”
She gave him a meek smile. “I’d rather talk about you.”
“Nuh-huh.” He reached across the distance between them, clasped her hand, and gently squeezed. “You okay, sis?”
Jordan’s soft chuckle filled the quiet of the house. “I’m fine, Jayce. Really. I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t be. It was ten years ago. I’ve moved beyond the rape.”
Right. That’s why she still slept with the lights on. Why she did nothing but dance. Why the only people she spent real time with were her fellow members of the Denver Ballet Company. Why she hadn’t had one serious relationship in ten years.
He squeezed her hand again before letting go. “You don’t look so fine.”
She lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “I’m a little sad. What single girl wouldn’t be in the midst of her sister’s wedding? Jasmine’s exhausting me—she kept me on the phone for an hour when I got home, panicked over the fact Harlow’s sister is allergic to roses and roses are in the bridesmaids’ bouquets.”
Ugh. Weddings. Jayce couldn’t hold in a grimace. Even at twenty he’d been smart enough to plan an elopement.
A wry grin tugged at one corner of Jordan’s mouth. “What are you grimacing about? The groom gets it easy. Pretty much all you have to do is show up.”
Unerringly, Jordan knew how to pull him out of a funk and employed the tactic with ease. He chuckled as bent over to ease off his dress shoes. “It’s even easier to stay single.” One loafer in hand, he frowned at Jordan in puzzlement. “How can Jasmine stand that guy anyway? He’s like…Pee-Wee-Herman…only without the hair. She could break him in half if she tripped over his foot.”
Jordan’s grin broadened. “Have you seen how obsessed he is about his appearance?”
Jayce cocked an eyebrow in reproach.
“Watch next time.” She let out a soft giggle that served to ease some of his concern. “He’s constantly fiddling with his tie, checking for spots on his cuffs, picking lint off his lapels. I bet you they divorce in a month once he realizes she won’t give up her dog.”
“Or make her get a rooster so he can sing alongside it.”
At that, Jordan’s giggles morphed into full-out laughter. “She can’t possibly be our sister.”
“I’ve been saying that for years. Did you just come to the realization?”
In less time that it took to blink, Jordan’s amusement faded, and her expression turned somber. “It’s nice having you around again, Jayce. When you leave, would you at least invite me to visit this time? Phone calls just aren’t the same.”
He breathed deeply and exhaled long and slow. This was the difficult part—lying to his sister, the person he was closest to. He hated to mislead her. “My job, Jordan…”
She nodded. “I know. You’re gone a lot.”
Though she didn’t say it, though she would never in a hundred lifetimes utter the accusation Jayce heard, it echoed in his head. He’d been gone then too. Wrapped up in his own personal hell while his sister suffered through a sham of a trial and was forced to watch her rapist go free. He’d failed her once. Somehow, he’d failed Alyssa as well. Whatever had happened to her, whatever shattered her confidence in the future they’d planned, he hadn’t been there to help her through it.
Emotion surfaced, feelings he fought night and day to keep down. He swallowed hard and rose to his feet. “I’ll do better, Jordan.” If he had to force Clarke to arrange some sort of conventional cover, he would, just to give Jordan the connection with someone who understood her. “I’m off to bed, sis.”
“Wait, Jayce, I didn’t mean—”
He held up a hand, begging off her apology. “I know. I’m bushed. I need to hit the sack.”
“Since when do you go to bed before midnight?”
Since Alyssa showed up tonight. Ignoring Jordan’s question, Jayce wove his way down the hall to the guest room and shut himself inside. As he stripped off his shirt, Alyssa’s sweet perfume tickled his nose. He closed his eyes against the twist of his heart, refusing to let the questions surface in his head. She was gone now. In another three days, he’d be free of Boulder. He wouldn’t see her again. He’d make sure of that. It was beyond time to leave the past behind.
* * *
Alyssa sank into the couch beside Brice, exhaustion weighing down her very bones. He motioned for her foot, the way he did every time he sensed she needed to relax, and she willingly set her ankles on his thigh.
“Tough night, huh?” Brice asked quietly as his fingers began to work into the ball of her foot.
“Tough day.”
“You looked pretty close to normal when you walked into the bar, Alyssa.” Leaning away from her, he pinned her with a knowing frown. “C’mon, we’ve been down this road before. Jayce is here. You’ve always wanted him. You’ve got fantastic excuses for keeping your distance, but none of them make sense when one look at him makes it impossible to deny he wants you just as much.”
She wasn’t having this conversation. Between Jayce’s unexpected reappearance and his equally unexpected reaction on the dance floor, her emotions were in a state of flux. She had Brice. Calm, steady, non-demanding Brice who satisfied her physical needs. Brice who knew her secrets, who understood her fears, and was always there for her, able to ground her when she felt like she might fly away untethered. Jayce, on the other hand, reduced her to a state of chaos. Uncontrolled chaos. Not to mention the guilt that came with thinking of him. She couldn’t cut Brice out of her life for passing whimsy.
And she wasn’t going to explain again how the one thing she longed for, she feared more than anything. Because that lack of control brought back other horrors she’d rather not release.
Brice protested her continued silence with a harassed sigh. Strong fingers worked into her heel. “Alyssa, what are you running from?”
She shot him a frown. “Do we really have to have this conversation?”
“Yeah, we do. Because I can’t stand the idea of you letting him slip away when I know how much you want him.”
“I can’t go there, Brice,” she confessed.
“Why the hell not?” He released one foot to exchange it for the other.
Bliss slipped up her spine as Brice’s fingers kneaded her tight ankles. As her body began to unwind, so did her mind. She leaned her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes. “It’s too intense. I can’t be alone with him—what if he asks questions I can’t answer? What if I freak out in the middle of…things?”
Several moments of silence passed as Brice worked over her left foot. He squeezed and kneaded in that just-shy-of painful way she couldn’t get enough of, pushing the tension in her body out the tips of her toes. Then he smoothed one palm down the top of her arch and his hands stilled. “What if I were there with you?” he asked quietly.
Alyssa cracked one eye open, uncertain she’d interpreted his meaning correctly. “You mean…the three of us?”
Brice nodded. “To break the ice, maybe.”
Momentary shock drew her upright. In a hundred years, she’d have never believe Brice would make such a proposition. Not with Jayce, at least. Disbelief filled her voice. “You’d do that?”
He let out a chuckle and resumed the casual devotion to her foot. “Not like I haven
’t before.”
“Yeah…but that was years ago.” Back when she’d first started to realize she missed sex. Back when she’d wanted to try living again, but had been too afraid to attempt it solo. When she’d confided her fears to Brice, he’d introduced her to a friend. Having Brice with her had helped keep her fears at bay. Having someone else with them prevented her relationship with Brice from becoming too demanding. She’d learned she could function as a normal woman, that she could control and separate the fear. It had all been wickedly exciting and full of pleasure, but it ran its course and served its purpose of moving beyond the perception men were predators. Since then, she and Brice sought companionship in each other, leaving their options fully open.
She arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think that was your thing.”
Brice shrugged. “I’d do it for you. If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”
A vision flashed through her mind of her on hands and knees, Brice laying beneath her, suckling at her breasts while Jayce arched around her backside, his hands fitted on her hips as he took her from behind. A chill skittered down her spine. Could she? With Brice there to ground her, she might actually be able to indulge in what she most wanted. And the guilt wouldn’t come. She wouldn’t have to cut Brice out, carve him out of her involvements. He could still be close, part of everything. But would Jayce be willing?
“Do you want that, Alyssa?”
She didn’t know. On one hand, she thrilled at the idea. On the other, she wasn’t quite certain that even having Brice present would corral all the overwhelming emotion Jayce provoked. Nor was she convinced that accepting didn’t directly translate to having her cake and eating it too. She wasn’t selfish, and she didn’t want to abuse Brice’s kind heart. Instead of responding, she plucked the remote off the coffee table and flipped on the television.
In breaking news, James Parker, owner and CEO of Parker Development—
“Alyssa, good grief, you’re dodging. You—”
She cut him off with a shake of her hand that demanded silence.
—tonight on allegations of tax evasion.
“Shit!” Alyssa tossed the remote onto the couch and collapsed into the cushions. All thoughts of Brice’s suggestion fled her mind. Her most powerful client—she didn’t need this on top of everything else. Certainly not in the height of tax season with only another three weeks until the filing deadline. She didn’t have time for this added hassle.
Nonplussed, Brice picked up the controller and turned the television off. “You suspected it was coming.”
“Yeah, I know, but that means I’m going to have the cops in my hair, detectives dogging me, and lawyers like you trying to double-talk me into something they can use.” She nudged his thigh with her heel. “I don’t have time for this. The Andersons are already eating up a huge chunk of my schedule with their complicated divorce settlement.”
Thankfully, Brice let the subject of Jayce go. With a smirk, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “At least we can both claim we’re employed by criminals.”
“Yeah, but yours is already behind bars. Mine is going to expect me to keep him out of jail.”
His laugh helped ease her topsy-turvy state of mind. “Which one, babe?”
“You know who I mean—Delfranco. That guy who’s doing time for money laundering.”
Brice’s amused smile took a sharp downward dive into a tight frown. “Yeah. Him. Pain in the ass.”
“Did he do something else today? Call from jail to give you grief for losing the case again?”
A brief shake of his head and the slight frown that touched his brow alerted her to the fact Brice was keeping his own angst inside. He rarely did, but when he chose to close her off, it related to case details he couldn’t discuss. She’d learned long ago not to press when he shut down.
Standing, he stretched. “I’m going to bed. Want to join me?”
“Mm.” Briefly, she debated. The encounter with Jayce had left her body primed and ready for satisfaction, but when she looked beyond the stir of arousal to the root of what she desired, Brice couldn’t provide the fulfillment her heart and body yearned for. “No,” she answered quietly. “I think I’ll stay up a while longer.”
“Suit yourself.” With a shrug of his shoulders, his teasing grin reappeared, and he tossed her a wink. “It’s your call if you want to go to bed miserable.” He crossed the room, then paused in the doorway. Looking over his shoulder, he gave her a meaningful look. “The other thing is your call too. Just let me know what you decide.”
“Goodnight, Brice.”
“Goodnight, babe.”
She watched him meander down the hall his bedroom before she curled into the couch and pulled the multi-colored afghan over her legs. Closing her eyes, she fought Jayce’s overwhelming presence. But the battle was too much, and as the ache in her womb began again, she allowed his handsome face to slide into memory. Standing in his embrace, reliving the incredible pull of desire…She missed him in ways she hadn’t even recognized.
Could she entertain Brice’s suggestion? It was so damned tempting…a night with Jayce. Just one more. With Brice present, surely she could hold on to her senses and emotion wouldn’t override pleasure. Maybe, just maybe…
A hollow scraping sound coming from the kitchen snapped Alyssa’s eyes open. Fear shot down her spine, and she clutched at the afghan, holding her breath, afraid to draw in air. Silence filled the house. Thick and stifling.
Her pulse tapped out a staccato rhythm. She stared at the open archway to the kitchen, waiting for footsteps. Waiting for a shadow to slither across the pale yellow wall.
The fridge kicked on with a click. Low humming filled the uncomfortable quiet. Expelling a rush of air, Alyssa relaxed her death-grip on the blanket. “Get a hold of yourself. It’s just the damn fridge.”
Flopping onto her side, she twisted and turned until the cushions molded around her body and yielded to comfort. If her fierce sexual awareness of Jayce hadn’t trumpeted all the reasons she didn’t dare get mixed up in him again, that moment of ridiculousness just had. She was hearing things again. Just as she had the night her life had been ripped from her control. The same old fears were stirring, the same helplessness descending on her once more.
F o u r
Alyssa hit the brakes and squealed to a stop, the nose of her car a good two feet over the white line. Her heart beat hard as the white minivan she’d nearly hit cleared the intersection. She cursed Jayce for good measure. If she’d managed to wake up thinking about something other than him, she wouldn’t have almost missed a glaring red light. Even a hot shower hadn’t helped. Brice’s proposal had her tied in knots.
The business with her client’s recent arrest had what remained of her sanity in tangles too. James Parker was a formidable man. He’d hired her fresh out of school, when she was driven to succeed and hungry for a steady, good-paying job. Back then, she hadn’t noticed that the wealth he outwardly displayed didn’t match the accounts she reconciled quarterly. When rumor reached her two years ago that he freelanced as a bookie, she’d begun to look more closely. Things didn’t add up. Parker Development, which ran continually a half-step out of the red, couldn’t finance a private jet or the numerous trips Parker made overseas.
Six months ago, when he’d phoned out of the blue, subtly suggesting that she happen to lose her briefcase with his two years previous statements inside, she’d confirmed the rumor. But by then, she’d seen the darker side of him. Witnessed the cruel gleam in his eye one too many times, and she didn’t trust that if she resigned, she wouldn’t pay some sort of long-term price.
Now, he was facing charges of racketeering and tax evasion. Turned in less than a month ago by the CFO of Parker Development, who coincidentally had provided written statements to the FBI and then vanished. The media claimed he was in protective custody. Alyssa wasn’t so sure.
The light turned green, and she eased onto the gas, trying to push the worry about Parker and her own we
llbeing aside. Each time she tried, thoughts of Jayce slunk in. Thoughts she had no business entertaining. She didn’t intend to get entwined with him again, and with a little luck, he’d be gone from Boulder in a few days.
Ugh—she’d go insane if she couldn’t think. She needed her mind together today, not scattered on the wind. Three fat file folders of the Anderson’s interest and dividend forms along with brokerage trades awaited her complete focus. Parker’s veritable shoebox of receipts was still waiting on her attention as well.
She turned onto the long, asphalt drive that led to the secluded cottage she and Brice called an office. Not for the first time recently, she kicked herself for being so dense the first time she entered this drive. What legitimate company hid an office in the middle of the suburbs on the back entrance to their forty acre estate?
What legitimate company shared that office with the notorious head of the Delfranco crime organization?
Damn Brice too for that matter. He knew he was working for the mob. He could have at least warned her long before she couldn’t get out. But to be fair, she had to admit, his logic had sound reasoning. Delfranco was already in jail when she moved into the adjoining office. He needed to pay his debts, and renting out office space was one legitimate way he could accomplish it. It had, in fact, been Brice’s suggestion.
Sighing, Alyssa eased to a stop beside Brice’s bright yellow Hummer and opened her door. She set a high heel on the pavement, exited, and righted the crooked fall of her suit skirt. She checked the buttons on the front of her blouse just for good measure—it wouldn’t have surprised her to find them crooked as well. Satisfied she was put together outwardly, no matter how discombobulated she was on the inside, she started for the door.
The sight that greeted her as she reached the entry, however, sent a chill sneaking down her spine. Down the left side of the doorjamb splintered wood poked out, ready to jab an unwary hand. The knob hung loose in the door, useless.
She pushed the door open and found Brice seated at his desk, the phone tucked to his ear. With a frown, she pointed to the splintered wood and mouthed, What happened?
Explosive (The Black Opals) Page 3