by Tessa Layne
I look down at Polly sleeping peacefully in my arms. I’d never get anything done if she was mine. I’d be content to sit and stare all day. “You’re irreplaceable to Polly, first. And yes, your job’s waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come back. Even if it’s six months from now.”
“Roxi was that good, huh?” she says with a little pout.
“She’ll manage.”
“Wait. Roxi?” Harrison’s eyes light. “The dame from the Nelson? She’s your temp?” He drops his head back with a laugh. “You better start looking for new work, Lise,” he says. “Danny was all over her shit.”
“Was not,” I retort.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t tapped that. I saw the look in your eye when you saw her dancing with that old geezer.”
I lie straight to his face. “You know how I feel about mixing business and sex.”
“I also know it’s high time you revisited that rule. When are you going to live for you and not all the people that you’ve decided it’s your responsibility to look out for?”
I wave a hand. “It’s not that many.”
“Isn’t it?” Stockton chimes in, counting on his fingers. “First, there’s your mom. Then the Anderssons.”
“Don’t forget Alison Walker,” Harrison adds.
“Lisa and Poppy.”
“And who knows how many others,” Harrison finishes. “When are you going to realize you can’t atone for your family’s sins by rescuing every damsel in distress you run across? Who’s going to look out for you?”
“Isn’t that a little bit of the pot calling the kettle black?” I toss back. “Sadly, there are a lot of assholes in the world, and a lot of women who’ve been hurt by said assholes. Why would I sit on my fortune when I could help someone?” Polly squirms in my arms and I lower my voice. “You both were born with everything. Do you have any idea how hard it is on the East side of town? Where you have to scratch and scrape for scraps? Do you have any idea how much it would have helped my family if someone, anyone, had noticed mom was in trouble? Maybe she could have gotten out before it cost her everything.” Polly squirms and lets out a tiny cry. I return her to her mother’s arms, doing my best to ignore the awkward silence my outburst has caused.
Harrison spreads his hands. “You’re a good guy, Danny. You’ve always been straight-up. I just… I just… wanna see you get the girl.”
“Guys like me don’t get the girl,” I say with a shake of my head. “Guys like me get the girl killed. Or maimed.”
Which is why I have to send Roxi back to the temp agency first thing tomorrow.
Chapter Nine
Roxi storms in promptly at two, brown eyes flashing fire. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easy? I’m just glad there was no one else available. Did it ever occur to you that I have bills to pay?”
“It’s for your own good,” I growl.
“No. I think it’s for your own good. We’ve already established—”
“That you can handle yourself. But you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” She leans across the bar and I catch a whiff of her perfume. It’s enough to make my resolve waver.
“I think you’re scared,” she says quietly, but with steel in her voice. “I think your gangster friend spooked you.”
She means to provoke me, and it works. “He’s not my friend,” I answer with equal steel.
“Of course he’s not,” she retorts. “But I know how men like you operate. You think if you can’t be someone’s bodyguard twenty-four-seven, that you’ve failed.” She makes a fist on the counter. “It doesn’t work that way, buddy.”
“Buddy?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “That’s your takeaway? That I called you buddy?”
I lean over the bar, until our faces are mere inches apart. “Like it or not, sweetheart. Now that you’re part of the Whiskey Den, you’re my responsibility. Whether you’re at work or not.”
“That’s crap.”
“Is it? I didn’t sleep last night, thinking about how vulnerable you are in that house.”
“There’s an alarm.”
“Alarms can be hacked.”
“I have protection.”
“Last time I checked, no one could aim a gun in their sleep. So unless you’re a vampire or you’ve got some magic juju that lets you never sleep, you’re vulnerable.”
Her freckles pop into relief as her face pales. “You’re that worried?”
“When you’re out of my sight, yes.”
She makes a noise of disbelief, or maybe surprise. “And you think giving me the boot would keep me safe? That’s a logical fallacy. You’ve just admitted I’m safer here.”
She has a point, much to my chagrin. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Her smile returns. “Get used to it.”
I could kiss her. It would be so easy to reach across and bend her head to mine. I’ve never regretted a deal as much as I do now. But I promised.
Behind us, a voice clears her throat. Roxi whirls, and I catch sight of white blonde curls. “Emmaline?”
She throws herself into a chair with a sob. “Oh Danny, I’ve made such a mess of things.”
I know what this looks like, and Roxi’s expression confirms the worst. “You. Stay,” I order as I round the bar and pull out a chair next to Em. “What is it sweetheart? I know you miss your mom, but Declan—”
“But that’s just it,” she wails. “I sent him away.”
Now I’m confused. “Roxi? Can you bring the reserve bottle and three tumblers?” I pat Emmaline on the back. “Why would you send Declan away, honey? He loves you.”
“He does. Look.” She hands me an invitation. I don’t bother to read it, because there was one waiting in the Whiskey Den mailbox this morning.
Roxi slams the bottle on the table, startling both of us. “If I’m pouring three drinks, WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON?”
Emmaline looks from me to Roxi and back to me. “Where’s Lisa?”
“She had her baby.”
This sends Emmaline back into paroxysms of tears. I bite back a groan of frustration. The downside of caring for damsels in distress. I take a tumbler and force it into Emmaline’s hands. “Take a breath, then take a drink.” I grab a tumbler for myself and drain it. It’s not enough to make me loopy, but it will help the telling of the story. “The short story — Emmaline’s grandfather was a runner for my great-grandfather, back in the day. He got caught and did time, preferring jail to being labeled a snitch. Tom wrote him when he was in jail and said whatever the Andersson family needed in perpetuity, the Pendergasts would return the favor. Emmaline and her mother found the note when her father was in nursing care for Alzheimer’s. So of course I helped them out. And again, when Em’s mother developed the disease.”
Roxi’s expression is carefully neutral and I can’t get a read off her at all. “Wow. That’s quite a story.”
“Mama and I would have been sunk without Danny,” Emmaline says, wiping her eyes. “He was my first investor when I started Madame M Lingerie.”
Roxi’s eyes go wide. “You’re Madame M?” She looks to me for verification, and I nod. She lets out a slow whistle.
“I still don’t understand why you sent Declan away.”
Emmaline hiccups. “I was scared, and-and I thought I was doing him a favor, but I’ve made a mess of everything.” Her lower lip trembles as tears threaten to spill out again.
“From the looks of the invitation, it doesn’t look like he’s given up. Are you going to go?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Roxi asks.
“That I could die old, crazy, and alone,” says Emmaline.
“If you love him, you should go,” she encourages softly.
I nod in agreement, deciding right then that I’m going, too, and that Roxi’s coming with me.
Chapter Ten
Roxi glares at me. “For the last time, I’m not going.”
I glare ba
ck. “For the last time, you are.”
“I can handle the bar on my own.”
“I’m sure you can. But no one runs the Den without me.”
I tap the suitcase with my toe. “I packed everything you need.” I swear she mutters ‘chauvinist’ under her breath. “That may be. But you’re getting on that plane with me, and we’re already late.” At least the airport is right down the road, and the flight crew will wait.
“And what if I don’t?”
I love her sass. It’s a total fucking turn-on. But right now, it’s irritating as fuck. “I will not hesitate to throw your ass over my shoulder and carry you to the plane.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t forget, I can drop you.”
“Don’t forget, I will not hesitate to spank that pretty ass of yours.”
Her eyes light with hunger. It’s been agony, the last two weeks, wanting but not touching. I’ve caught her staring as much as she’s caught me. We’ve kissed only twice — once before the poker game I organized for Vince, and again the other day, when an associate of his popped in for a late dinner. Both times left us grouchy, and very much wanting more. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in the groan of frustration she didn’t bother to hide.
I press my advantage. “If you don’t go, I guarandamntee you Vince will get wind of it and our little deal will be exposed for the lie it is.”
“I’ll lay low this weekend.”
“Don’t be so foolish as to think he’s not having the house you’re staying in watched.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he wants what he can’t have, and if he sees an opening, he’ll take it.”
“You give him too much credit,” she scoffs. “Besides —” Her voice turns hard as ice. “I will not hesitate to drop him or anyone else.”
“And I don’t want it to come to that.” We stare each other down. I play my last card. My voice drops. “What are you afraid of, Roxi?” I step around the suitcase until I’m so close I can feel her breath skate across my cheek.
“Nothing.”
Her voice says otherwise.
“Are you afraid we might… break our rules?”
Her breath catches, but she shakes her head. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Liar.” I bend my head to nuzzle the hollow below her ear. “I promise what happens in Napa will stay in Napa.”
A shiver ripples through her. “Yes,” she whispers in an almost pained voice. “I’ll go.”
I step away with a triumphant grin. “See? How hard was that?”
She lets out a growl of pure frustration, but I see the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll pay for that,” she promises.
“I hope so. But right now, we’re late for the plane.”
I grab our bags and head through the door. “Call if something comes up,” I say to Oscar as we step outside.
“Don’t worry, boss. I’ve got security on it twenty-four-seven.”
“Good man.”
In less than ten minutes, I pull into a reserved spot at the downtown airport. The jet sits on the tarmac, engines already idling. “We’re using Steele Conglomerate’s plane?”
“We all went in on it. None of us use it enough on our own to retain a full-time crew. But together, we do.”
“I see. But why the Kansas City Kings logo beneath it?”
“Harrison and Stockton and a couple of friends of theirs put together the partnership to buy the team a year ago and keep it here in Kansas City.”
Roxi’s eyes widen. “Wow. I gotta tell my dad. He’ll go crazy. He used to take me to farm league games when I was a little kid.”
“Let me know when he comes to visit, and we’ll go to a game.” It’s a stupid offer to make, because Opening Day is five months away, but it’s worth it to see the smile on her face. I drop the luggage at the foot of the stairs and take Roxi’s hand to lead her up, but I stop short.
“What is it?”
I turn and give her a hard stare. “Your weapon.”
She looks confused. “What about it?”
“Are you licensed to carry in California?”
She opens her mouth to speak, then snaps it shut. It’s the first time I’ve seen her genuinely flustered. “Doesn’t matter,” she finally says with a shrug.
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”
She glares at me and lowers her voice. “It doesn’t matter because neither of us are going to say anything to the flight crew, nor to anyone else.”
“But you could go to jail.”
“Funny thing for you to say, Mr. Poker Night.”
“Is it really worth risking jail?”
“Yes,” she says with so much ice in her voice, I shudder.
“I swear if I ever meet whoever made you so scared.” I let the remainder of the threat hang between us.
“See, when you say stuff like that, I know you’re a big teddy bear.”
I lace my fingers through hers. “Am not.”
“Are.”
“Not.”
“Whiskey, Mr. Pendergast?” the flight attendant asks when we take our seats.
“And one for Ms. Rickoli as well,” I answer with a nod.
As soon as we’re buckled and our drinks have been served, the jet barrels down the runway and shoots into the air, banking hard so that we see downtown from the window.
“So let me see if I can keep this straight,” Roxi says after draining her glass. “You went to Stanford with the Case brothers.”
I nod.
“And the Steele Conglomerate guys.”
“Yep,” I say with another nod.
“But that’s only seven, and you said you all rowed in an eight man boat together?”
“Only my senior year, and it wasn’t all of us. It was me, Austin, Declan, Stockton, Harrison, Owen, Jackson, and Mac. Austin and Dec were freshman, but they had grit and made it onto the varsity boat. We won the national championships that year. Smoked Harvard,” I say with a smile.
“Why’d you quit rowing?”
The question I hate answering most. I push out of my chair and make myself a heavy pour at the bar. I return to my seat and for a long moment, stare out the window at the puffy clouds below us.
Roxi drops a hand to my knee. “If it’s too painful, you don’t have to talk about it.”
I drain the glass in three gulps, wincing at the burn, drawing strength from the pain. “Nah. It’s been ten years. I should be able to talk about it.” But time has a way of shrinking when death is involved, and when I shut my eyes, the grief slices across my belly. “I had a girlfriend. Her name was Anita. She was crazy as fuck. Super smart, super passionate. Prone to dramatic outburst. Sometimes I think she was bi-polar, but nobody knew it.” I can still see her doe brown eyes, and her high cheekbones, and the curly hair she kept short and wild, just like her personality.
“We’d planned to take a month and hike Italy after graduation. But after our stunning win against Harvard, all of us in the boat got invited to National Selection Camp for the Olympics. It was the first time an entire boat had been invited, and we had visions of the days when collegiate boats dominated at the Olympics.”
I lean back and shut my eyes for a second, reliving the euphoria when we learned all of us were going to the trials. “It was a real ‘all for one and one for all’ moment. We felt like nothing could stop us. The last time a collegiate boat had been to the Olympics was ‘68. The last time a collegiate boat won gold was ‘56. We were convinced it was our time.”
“But something happened.”
“Anita happened.” I state flatly, no longer feeling anything about her except empty. “She was pissed because it meant canceling our trip to Italy. Hysterical. She refused to see reason, and we fought. A big ugly fight, and ultimately, she got in her car and drove away, and right into a semi.”
Roxi gasps, and I open my eyes to see her hand covering her mouth.
“I guess the good thing was that she was ki
lled instantly. But her family blamed me, and that was that.” I tap my fingers on the side of my glass. “Killed any love I had for the sport right then and there.”
“But your teammates—”
“Understood. They went, but none made it past the third cut. The team’s spirit was broken. I think Harrison and Stockton continue to row because they’re still chasing that feeling, the euphoria of a perfectly balanced boat on the water.”
“I’m so sorry, Danny. That must have been indescribably awful for you.”
“I’ve endured worse,” I say with a wry smile.
She stares at me a long moment, eyes full of pain. “I can only imagine.”
It’s not my place to ask, but I get the distinct feeling she understands what I mean.
Chapter Eleven
I’ve booked us at a B&B in Yountville, twenty-five minutes down Mt. Veeder from where Declan’s vineyard is located. Emmaline meets us for drinks in the living room as soon as we arrive, bristling with nervous energy. “I should call Declan right now, shouldn’t I? Maybe I should drive up tonight.”
I hand her a glass of Pinot Noir. “You’re overthinking this. Go upstairs, take a bath and book yourself into a spa for the day tomorrow.”
“I’d love to join you,” Roxi adds with a warm smile. “I haven’t indulged in girlie activities in ages. I’m overdue.”
I shoot her a grateful smile. Maybe it’s her confidence or her fierce independence, or maybe it’s because there’s no expectation for anything between us, but her lack of jealousy as she’s learned about the people, the women I’ve helped with my fortune, has surprised me. Just when I expect her to zig, she zags. Her reactions keep me off-balance, disconcerted, even. It’s almost like she’s proud of me. But I chalk up my observations as wishful thinking because there’s plenty in my life to not be proud of.
“I’d like that, too,” says Emmaline. “I was an only, so I never had sisters to do girlie things with.”
Pain flashes across Roxi’s face, but it’s gone before Emmaline notices. “This will be special then.” To anyone else’s ears, her comment seems completely normal. But I notice the tightness in her voice, like her throat has closed. I want to ask her about it. Curiosity is burning a hole in my gut, but until she says something, I’m keeping my questions to myself. Whatever burden she’s carrying, it the kind of deep shit that has to be volunteered, and it won’t be shared lightly. With anyone. A tiny flicker of hope rises in my chest. Could Roxi ever see me as a safe place? A landing place for her deepest secrets?