Relentless

by Vanessa Dare

  Carrie nodded. “Sounds good. Text me her address and give me a fifteen minute head start.”

  I threw some cash on the table.

  As we left the restaurant, Carrie turned to me. “Oh, by the way, what’s your name this week?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Anna

  I spent the day trying to focus on my work. Trying was the optimal word. The sketches for my client’s new kitchen were due and I struggled all afternoon to finish. Not because there were problems, the renovation was going to be lovely, but because I couldn’t focus. I found my mind wandering and wasted several hours staring aimlessly out the window. Nick, in just one night, had ruined me. I was tired and the only reason I could think of was that I had too good a night’s sleep. I’d practically passed out in Nick’s arms, not waking, not really even moving.

  I was on my third cup of coffee and that wasn’t helping. I just wanted to climb back in bed with Nick’s arms around me. I was kidding myself it was just to sleep since that wouldn’t be completely true.

  I craved his touch, the warmth his body provided, the comfort and safety I felt when he was holding me. And more. Oh, yes. I wanted more. Kissing him had been like waking up. Silly, I know. Like a fairy tale and a princess waking from a long sleep. But it was true. His kisses woke up something in me that had been dormant for so long I barely remembered, or never knew.

  I had no idea my body could react so violently to someone. My arousal was instant when he came in the room, at the sound of his voice. My nipples hardened by instinct, my core clenched, my body heating as if preparing for its basest needs, recognizing its mate. A frisson of apprehension ran down my spine. Nick called to me on some elemental level I couldn’t understand. I was trying, but it was hard. This cellular-level craving I had for him went against my every honed instinct, the years of practiced survival.

  If there were to be a study on nurture vs. nature, I’d be the perfect example. I’d been nurtured by institutions, been put in situations that required no friendly ties, no close relationships of any kind. When that happened, when someone became dear to me, I was whisked away, to another school, another life. Marriage, I thought, would be different. A man for myself, a bond of matrimony that tied me to someone else. Forge love between us solely because it was legal. But no. Wedded bliss did not exist, and I learned from the horrid experience that people still couldn’t be trusted, that if you let someone in, they’d yank the world right out from under your feet. No nurturing for me.

  I hadn’t recognized any hint of nature in me either—that innate, instinctual guide that helped the caveman survive—until I’d run into Nick at the wedding reception. That attraction, arousal, lust even, had bubbled up like a hot spring from the ground. It just happened.

  The question that kept popping up: Why did Nick want me? Me, the clueless one when it came to sex. I wasn’t the least bit provocative or alluring. My clothes, while stylish, were unrevealing. I hid behind layers of fabric. It was my shield against the world.

  Nick had seen through that, like Superman and x-ray vision, and desired me. He’d been the first man to kiss me, to touch me besides a platonic hug or handshake for over ten years. He knew, knew, something was wrong with me. What thirty-year-old woman would be petrified of him? Wary of his touch, afraid to lie in bed with him? He was unbelievably attractive if I used my friend Stephanie as a judge. He wanted sex. I might be naïve, but I wasn’t an idiot. I could speak three languages and it was the same in all of them. He was a man and a man wanted sex. That was nature talking. Pure and simple.

  Could I let my guard down to give it to him? Could I be everything he wanted? I considered this as I got a call from downstairs. Nick. My heartbeat sped up, excitement shot through me. I was doomed. Doomed for hurt with him since he’d either learn I wasn’t worth the effort, or he’d get what he wanted—whatever that really was—from me and toss me aside. Or maybe he’d learn the sheer extent of my secrets and realize getting even with Todd wasn’t worth the risk. I didn’t want to push him away by telling him the truth. I wanted to see what happened with Nick, to give it a try, as he’d said.

  “Yes?” I asked the doorman into the intercom on the wall.

  “A woman named Carrie is here to see you. She says she’s Nick Malone’s sister.”

  Confused for a moment, then quickly surprised. His sister was here? Alone? Where was Nick? “Send her up. Thanks.”

  I stared at the door. I felt sick. Nick really did have a sister. She wasn’t just someone Nick mentioned in passing. She was a real, live, breathing person. She made Nick real. Not just some sexy guy of my fantasies who’d spent the night in my bed. Not the man who made me reconsider getting close with someone. I knew nothing about Nick other than that he carried a gun and worked for Moretti. He could be a number cruncher or just a bartender for all I knew of him.

  Using him for sex was one thing, revenge was another. Saving Elizabeth meant I could exact my revenge on Todd and that wasn’t going to be easy, or safe. It most likely wouldn’t be legal and would be potentially deadly. Could I ask that of Nick? To have him risk his life, his very soul—because that’s what he’d give up if he had to kill someone—to help me?

  At first, it had been simple. Get his help, then walk away. That was before he’d wheedled himself into my life, getting me to trust him with my body. Could I trust him with all of my secrets, too? Would he want to take on that burden? Would he still want me after he learned the truth? Was I even worth it?

  I jumped at the knock at the door. Two people in two days in my apartment was a record. Glancing around, there were still clothes strewn about and I’d never found those sandals I wanted to wear.

  The woman I let in looked exactly like Nick. Dark hair, olive skin, strong features. Her eyes were lighter though. She was strikingly pretty, tall and willowy. She wore a conservative suit, slim black skirt with a trim jacket, a little ruffle at the collar of her white shirt peeked through and ruthless high heels.

  “I’m sorry for barging in like this, a complete stranger.” She smiled and she looked…nice.

  “Is Nick okay?” I asked, realizing maybe he’d been hurt or killed or shot in the head and left in the trunk of a car. I held on to the door in a fierce grip, afraid I might fall over if I let go. Why else would she be here? Oh, God.

  Carrie’s smile slipped and held up a hand. “Whoa. Nick’s fine. Really.”

  I took a deep breath and my stomach moved back down out of my throat. “Sorry, I just couldn’t think of why else you’d be here.” My heartbeat was frantic, but I was starting to calm down. My visceral response to Nick being hurt took me by surprise. I feared for his safety, worried about him. The idea of him being hurt made me completely irrational. Maybe having him help Elizabeth—and bringing down Todd—wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  “I saw Nick for lunch and we thought we’d surprise you by taking you out to dinner. We were going to meet here, but I guess he’s a little late.” Carrie gave my arm a quick squeeze. “Which is perfect because we’ll have time for a little girl talk. Mind if I sit down?”

  She was like a whirling dervish. I couldn’t keep up. “Sure, sorry.” I led her to the sofa.

  “I guess your reaction answers my first question.”

  “Oh?” I asked, not sure what she meant.

  “How you feel about Nick.” Carrie picked up a little glass paperweight on my coffee table, fiddled with it. Did she know what her brother did for a living? Was it a secret I just fell into last weekend like everything else? I didn’t want to ask and find out. Somehow tossing out there—So, Carrie, did you know your brother is a member of a large crime syndicate and is most likely considered armed and dangerous by law enforcement?—wasn’t going to work.

  I dropped to the couch next to her. “Feel about Nick?” I repeated. Was I that obvious?

  “You care a lot about him.” She watched me closely, gauging my response.

  I did care about him, and that was scary. God, everything was scary! I wa
s such a wimp to hide from everything just because it was scary. Sure, I’d had good reason to do so, but now, Nick was becoming something more important than staying safe, and the irony was, he might be the one putting me in danger—and my heart didn’t seem to care!

  I had to let go a little bit of control to be with him and that was risky. But I was handing that control to Nick, not just tossing it into the wind. He’d said he’d keep it safe. Keep me safe. Could I do the same for him?

  “Yes, I care about him.” It was time to change the subject. “You look so much like your brother.”

  Carrie patted her hair. “Yeah, well, that’s genetics for you. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  I watched her put the paperweight back. “No. Only child.”

  “That must have been so nice. No bathrooms to share. Having two sisters was a pain. I can only imagine what Nick had to go through growing up sharing the bathroom with the three of us. Talk about estrogen overload.”

  The only comparison I had was sharing a dorm bathroom with seven other girls. It probably wasn’t remotely the same thing. “Oh, sorry, bad hostess. Would you like a drink?” I’d gotten pretty darn good at diverting questions I didn’t wish to answer. “Water, iced tea, soda?”

  “Soda sounds great. Thanks.” Carrie stood and followed me into the kitchen. I busied myself with a glass, added ice, got a can from the fridge. I placed both on the counter next to her.

  “Did you like your trip to Denver? Wedding, right?”

  “A friend’s sister got married.”

  “Sounds like fun. Was it a fancy affair? Garden party? Cocktails? Formal? I love a man in a tux,” Carrie said, dreamily.

  I couldn’t keep up with how fast she talked. “Um…black tie.”

  “I think we’re at the age where we have several weddings a year. Lots of friends getting hitched. It’s great to see everyone fall in love, and it’s a good excuse to get a new dress. I’ve already been to three. How about you?”

  She was really overwhelming. I could see how Nick had gotten the laid-back thing down pat. Having to live with Carrie growing up forced him to do so at a young age. It was like having a verbal steamroller in my kitchen. To keep busy, I got my own can from the fridge.

  “This year? Just one.”

  “Huh.” She poured her drink into the glass, let the bubbles rise, then filled the glass again after they receded. “Listen, I have to admit something.”

  I raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I’m a little curious about the woman who’s got my brother flying halfway across the country after meeting her only last week.”

  I ran my damp hands over my skirt. “There’s not much to tell. I’m really boring, actually.”

  From the look on her face, I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Come on, seriously? You met a guy over the weekend and he’s here, with you, two time zones away. That is not boring. I wish I had a guy do that for me.”

  She took a drink from her glass. No ring on her finger. A definite romantic.

  I smiled at her. “I guess I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

  Carrie grinned. “Totally.”

  I took a bag of chips down from the cabinet, opened it and placed it on the counter between us.

  “My new best friend. God, I love salt.” Carrie crunched on a chip while I watched her, confident in herself, even her flaws. She just seemed so…normal. I wanted to be her when I grew up.

  “Fine, what do you want to know? Although, I’ve heard, a girl’s got to have some secrets,” I warned.

  Carrie pointed a chip at me. “That’s with men, not best friends. Since you pulled out the chips at three on a Friday, you’re stuck with me. You can keep secrets from Nick, but not from girlfriends.”

  I eyed her suspiciously, not sure if she was kidding or not. “Okay. Shoot.”

  Carrie chewed and swallowed, licked her finger. Made me realize we needed napkins.

  “Twenty questions!” she declared.

  I looked at her as I opened a cabinet. “Don’t we have to be drunk or at a sleepover for that?”

  “No,” she said grumpily. “Bra size.”

  I paused from pulling out napkins, looked down at my chest. “Seriously? That’s what you want to know?”

  “I’m starting off easy,” she countered, grinning. “Bra size.”

  I shook my head, questioning her questions, but answered, “34C.”

  Her eyes darted to my chest. “Now I’m totally jealous of you. I wish I was a C,” she grumbled. “I need another chip to get over it.” After eating another, she continued. “Name of pet growing up.”

  “Didn’t have one. Next.” I wasn’t a big pet fan.

  “Um… Name of prom date.”

  “Didn’t have one. Next.”

  “Didn’t have…? Okay. Next. Um…favorite color.”

  I relaxed at the lighter direction of the questions. “Orange.”

  Carrie gave me a surprised look. “Really? I figured you for a pink girl.”

  I tilted my chin down to get a good look at her. Seriously? A pink girl?

  “What number am I up to?”

  “Five, and that was a question, so six.”

  “Smart ass.” She grinned.

  This was fun. I really liked Carrie, except when she thought I was a pink girl. She was easygoing, lighthearted and had the hottest brother on the planet.

  “Are you from New York?”

  “No.”

  “You’re going to make me use another question for this?”

  “Yes, and that was a question, so eight.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Fine. Where are you from?”

  I didn’t respond right away. I wasn’t exactly sure how to, so I stalled as I took a sip of soda. “I grew up all over actually. Moved a lot.”

  “Army brat?”

  I gave a dry laugh. As if my father would serve anyone but himself. “No.”

  The intercom rang.

  “That must be Nick,” Carrie said, snagged another chip.

  Nick’s timing was perfect; Carrie couldn’t grill me anymore. I could only imagine what questions she’d come up with by the time she got to twenty. I talked with the front desk and Nick came in the door a minute later. He found us in the kitchen, the bag of chips between us. He’d changed his clothes; he wore khaki cargo shorts and a white button-up, sleeves rolled up and left untucked. On his feet, he wore the same pair of beat-up sneakers.

  Seeing the bag of chips, he reached in and grabbed one as he ruffled his sister’s hair in a way only brothers could do. Turning to me, he leaned down and gave me a quick, salty kiss.

  “I see you two have met and are bonding over snacks.”

  “She’s my new best friend,” I said, my voice full of confidence. Although, once the words left my mouth I wondered if I’d overstepped my bounds. The look on Carrie’s face—a big grin—said I wasn’t mistaken.

  Nick looked at me, smiled. It felt good to be part of something, part of a family, even momentarily. Nick and Carrie seemed to have an easy sibling bond and having them include me, even for right now, felt…special. Simple, yet special. “So, what did I miss?”

  Carrie eyed me, but said to Nick, “Girl stuff, only girl stuff. Do you really want to know?”

  Nick held up his hands. “Absolutely not.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Smiling at me, Nick took my hand, kissed the knuckles. “We were going to take you to dinner. You told her our plans, right?” He looked to his sister, who nodded. “Great. It’s pretty early, so what do you say we kick back with these chips and you tell me what kind of help you need. You’ve been pretty patient with me, so if you give me a soda of my own, you can tell me about it.”

  I took a deep breath, pasted on my bland face that hid my emotions. How did I get him to help without getting him in so deep he might get hurt? I’d asked him for his help, and now that he was giving it, I questioned myself. The revenge I sought wasn’t going to be pretty. All this was goin
g to lead to exposure and I had to figure out how many secrets I wanted to dole out.

  “Sure. Have a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

  Nick snagged the bag of chips and winked at me as he escaped the kitchen.

  “Hey!” his sister yelled, following him. “Those aren’t your chips, those are girl chips.”

  “There’s no such thing as girl chips,” Nick complained. I couldn’t see either of them from where I stood at the fridge, but I could easily hear their bickering.

  I brought Nick a glass with ice and his own can, my glass tucked between my arm and my side, and placed them on the coffee table. The siblings sat on the couch, so I took my comfortable armchair perpendicular to them.

  “This is a great apartment,” Carrie said, looking around. “I’m jealous of your location.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been here for twelve years.” I took in my cluttered chaos. “And no, I’m not as much of a slob as it looks.”

  “You should see my place. This is nothing,” Carrie replied.

  Nick nodded his head in agreement, but when he saw his sister looking his way, he stopped and smiled innocently.

  “You don’t have to stay with me, you know,” she added, sounding put out, but it was obviously fake.

  “Good, because I’m staying here,” Nick said as he stared at me, his left arm going up along the back of the couch, as if he was settling in.

  I caught my breath at his heated glance, stared back. He was staying here? I liked—no, loved—how it felt to be in his arms but his staying with me officially changed the entire dynamic.

  Carrie looked between us, grinned. “Did you two want me to leave?”

  Nick flicked his gaze to his sister. “Yes, that would be great, but I know it’s not going to happen.”

  Carrie shook her head.

  “If you’re staying, then stop being annoying. Did you have enough time to get your work done?”

  The last, he asked me. Enough time, yes. Did I get anything accomplished? No. No way was I telling Nick I daydreamed about him, so I just nodded.

  “Great, then do you want to tell me what’s going on with your friend?”