“Where the hell have you been?”
“Walking,” I said, trying to play calm. “How was your meeting?”
He stared at me. “I told you not to leave.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I said evenly.
“I called you. You didn’t answer.”
I shifted. I didn’t know he’d called. I must have accidentally turned the volume off on my cell phone after talking to Amy.
“You’ve never been to New York. I thought you were lost. Someone could have . . .” He shook his head. “Forget it. We’re leaving.”
“That’s not exactly the nicest way to ask me to dinner.”
“We’re not going to dinner. We’re going home.”
I balked, amazed by his audacity, and at the same time worried that the meeting he’d gone to had gone terribly wrong. It didn’t seem possible that he’d fly us home early just because he was mad at me, but then, as Amy had said, I hadn’t known him very long.
“Alec.”
He was already in the bedroom gathering the things I hadn’t even had a chance to spread out. I caught a flash of the gun as he moved it from the back of his waistband to his duffle bag. The briefcase, I noticed, was missing.
“We should talk about this,” I said.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.
I followed him to the elevator, the silence between us so thick it might have been a wall. The car ride wasn’t much better. And when we boarded the plane, perky little Jennifer was oh-so-happy to serve Alec the bourbon she’d assumed he’d wanted this morning. He downed two shots before we even took off, and with me on the couch and him facing away in one of the seats, we climbed through the atmosphere.
My resolve was past wavering, but I didn’t know what to say to him. It was enough that we were on thin ice without me stating the obvious. As I closed my eyes, the simple truth nestled itself in my ribcage. I’d waited too long. He was going to leave first.
It was going to break my heart.
*
Sometime later, Alec nudged me awake. I rubbed my eyes, remembering what had happened in New York, and averted my gaze as I followed him off the plane into the hangar. I wanted to be strong when he walked away, and that meant I needed to be more alert. But right now I was groggy and my insides were all twisted up.
I slid into the back of a black Lincoln, and he sat on the other side leaving the center space between us. I placed my bag there like a shield and checked my phone, scrolling through pictures Amy had sent of Paisley, telling myself I’d survive Alec Flynn.
It was dark out now, and I didn’t look out the tinted windows until the car slowed and we entered a neighborhood. I was suddenly jarred by my surroundings—this wasn’t Tampa, there wasn’t a palm tree in sight. We weren’t even in Alec’s Jeep, which we’d driven to the airport less than ten hours ago. I couldn’t believe I’d been so focused on myself that I’d failed to notice where we were.
But I knew where we were. I knew exactly where we were.
As the car pulled to a stop in front of the one-story brick house, my throat grew thick and hot, and I blinked back tears.
Alec had brought me home to see my dad.
Twenty-two
I turned to face him, hand over my mouth to stifle my bubbling laughter, and then gave up and launched myself across the seat. I threw my arms around him, kissing his face everywhere I could. He pulled me closer, arms around my waist, and tucked his chin against my neck.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Whatever we’d fought about was in the past; I wanted to forget it. I pulled back, holding his cheeks in my hands. The apology in his gaze captured me, and I ran my thumbs over the rough stubble on his jaw.
“How did you do this?” I asked. “How did you even know where we lived?”
“Your background check had your previous addresses,” he said. “It wasn’t hard to find out if your family still lived here.”
“Was this your plan the whole time?” I couldn’t believe I’d almost screwed everything up.
His mouth turned down. “It came into play a little sooner than I expected.”
“Your meeting didn’t go well,” I inferred. A chill worked its way down my spine when I remembered the gun in his briefcase—the briefcase I hadn’t seen him bring back to the jet.
He glanced at the house, avoiding my gaze. “It went exactly as planned.”
I had a bad feeling about what that meant, but something stopped me from asking more. This was Alec, and I felt safe with him, regardless of what secrets he kept.
“Does my dad know we’re here?”
Alec scratched a hand down his jaw. “No.”
My smile returned. “Let’s go.”
He hesitated. I’d completely forgotten a driver was in the front seat until he cleared his throat.
“Come on,” I said. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“I’m not . . .” His gaze darted to the side. “I’m not exactly the guy you bring home.”
My chest constricted not just at his words, but his tone. He was more than nervous, he was honestly worried he wouldn’t be good enough.
“It’s too late to get out of this,” I said.
His jaw worked back and forth.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I was afraid of that.”
With that, we left the car, and I practically pulled Alec up the walkway behind me. I had a key, but my dad had a gun, and since he wasn’t expecting me I figured it was better to announce my presence with the doorbell.
On the third ring, Ben Rossi opened the door. He was wearing navy sweatpants and a worn gray T-shirt, and had a dish towel tossed over his shoulder. Even though it had only been five months since I’d seen him last, his hair looked a little lighter, and there were more lines around his eyes and mouth. He was still handsome, but losing Mom was taking its toll.
“Anna?” His open mouth warped into a shocked smile.
I crossed the threshold and hugged him, hating how skinny he’d gotten this past year. I needed to come home more often.
“Surprise!” I was jostled to the side as a giant black dog cut between us and slobbered all over my shirt. “Thanks, Mug.” The Great Dane’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he jumped up. With his enormous paws on my shoulders, he was almost taller than me.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Dad asked, pulling Mug down by the collar.
“Everything’s fine.” Telling him how Alec had arranged for us to come here in a private jet could wait until he’d had a chance to adjust. “Dad, this is Alec. Alec, Ben Rossi.”
Alec was still outside, but at the introduction stepped into the threshold. Mug immediately greeted him with a nose to the crotch. It took most of my strength to pull the dog back.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Alec stretched out his hand, which my father took only after a moment’s appraisal.
“Alec, huh? You got a last name?”
“Dad,” I warned. Here we go.
“It’s Flynn.”
Their hands were still clasped, but they’d stopped shaking.
“Is that your car out there, Alec Flynn?” He nodded over Alec’s shoulder to where the Lincoln was still idling. I was sure he had already committed the license plate number to memory.
“It’s a company car,” said Alec.
“Fancy.” My dad clicked his tongue inside his cheek. “So what brings you here, Alec Flynn?”
Alec forced a smile. “Anna talks a lot about you. I wanted to introduce myself.”
“You did,” he said. “How long have you and Anna been talking? I haven’t heard a word about you.”
“Dad.” Unbelievable. It was like I was still sixteen years old.
“What?” he shrugged.
“Just a couple weeks,” answered Alec. I had to hand it to him; he’d yet to wither beneath my dad’s policeman stare.
“Interesting,” said my dad. “And she hasn’t kicked you to the curb yet?�
�
Alec inhaled, and it occurred to me that he was taller and more built than my father. Apparently no one had told my dad this.
“It surprises me, too, sir,” Alec answered.
“Okay,” I said, pushing my dad’s arm back to break their death grip. “It’s kind of cold outside, and I’m hungry, so maybe we could recommence with the shakedown in the kitchen.”
“I should get going,” said Alec, laying a hand on my lower back. “Leave you two to catch up.”
“All right,” said my dad.
“I can pick you up tomorrow morning, Anna?”
I glared at Alec. “You’re staying.” I turned to my dad. “Be nice.” He raised his hands in surrender. “And just so we’re all on the same page, I love both of you, so you just better get used to it.”
They both stared at me for a full second as the weight of what I’d said sank in. Alec’s lips parted. The color rose in my dad’s cheeks. They each looked equally mortified. I couldn’t believe I’d let that slip. But since there was no going back now, I backed out of the entryway and escaped to the kitchen.
*
I was rooting through the pantry when Alec appeared behind me. I didn’t know where my dad was, but the kitchen smelled like a TV dinner, and the microwave door was open.
“Hey,” he said quietly. He moved close enough that I could feel the warmth from his body through my clothes. He was too big for this tiny kitchen, too high-class with his private jets and fancy New York hotel rooms for linoleum floors and a water-stained sink. He didn’t want to be here, and I’d been stupid to make him come in.
I grabbed a can of diced tomatoes and a dusty box of lasagna noodles. The expiration date said July—yep, still good.
“By some miracle there’s hamburger in the fridge,” I said. “I just need some cheese and I can make lasagna.”
“Anna.”
I couldn’t face him, couldn’t stand to hear that regret already thick in his tone. I shouldn’t have said I loved him. That was stupid. And it was a hundred thousand times stupider to throw it out publicly in front of my dad. Maybe Alec should have gotten a hotel. He might not survive the night now.
“Maybe the neighbors have cheese,” I said, dumping the supplies on the counter. “I’ll go ask.”
Alec put his hand on my arm, freezing me in place with his touch. This place was thick with memories and full of love; it clearly made me too comfortable, made me think I could open my big fat mouth and say anything.
My eyes focused on an old picture framed on the counter of my mom and dad at the annual police Christmas party. It was years before I’d come to live with them. She was wearing a frilly black dress and sitting on his lap, and they were looking at each other like they had no idea there were other people around.
“What was that back there?” Alec asked.
I took a deep breath.
My dad walked in and saved me before I could say anything else. He looked back and forth between us, eyes narrow.
“I need mozzarella,” I blurted.
“Alec and I will go get some,” Dad offered.
I shot him a hard look. “Why does that sound like a bad idea?”
“I don’t know. Sounds like a great idea to me.” My dad grabbed his keys from a hook off the wall. “Come on, Alec. Let’s go through the garage. I’ll show you my gun collection.”
Alec followed him, but before he reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder and sent a smirk my way.
That damn smile knocked me on my ass every single time.
*
I don’t know what happened at the store, but Alec and my dad returned in a very different place than when they’d left. I didn’t even realize they were home until I called my dad’s cell and heard it ringing in the garage.
I opened the garage door, ready to rescue Alec from my father’s interrogation, but instead found them elbow to elbow beneath the hood of the candy-apple red ’67 Chevelle my dad had picked up at auction a few years ago. Rebuilding the engine had been one of his favorite pastimes, though he’d been neglecting it since my mom had gotten sick. It was nice to see his interest piqued again.
“I added headers for better exhaust flow,” my dad was saying, “and swapped in a hotter cam to speed up the gas intake.”
“And exhaust expulsion,” added Alec. When Dad looked impressed, Alec shrugged. “The camshaft profile. Some early plane engines used similar principles.”
Now I was impressed. I knew Alec managed some of Force’s business, but I wasn’t aware he knew much about the mechanics behind it. He was just full of surprises.
“Male bonding?” I asked.
They both stood up at the sound of my voice. Alec reached for a beer that apparently they’d already opened, and my dad grabbed the grocery bag off his workbench. He brought it over to me with a twinkle in his eye.
“You know cheese typically has to stay refrigerated, right?” I said.
He kissed me on the temple, then threw one arm over my shoulder. “Anna knows a thing or two about cars as well. Helped me restore a ’69 Mustang.”
He squeezed me a little tighter against his side. We both knew that project—the first project we’d done together as father and daughter—was more about rebuilding something that was broken than it was about cars. Either way, he was so proud I couldn’t help but puff my chest out.
“I can’t claim to know much about cars,” said Alec. “Just engines.”
Like Green Fusion engines. His words spurred the memory of the blueprints I’d seen in his now-missing briefcase. He must have been thinking the same thing because the carefree expression on his face turned serious, and he hid it in a long pull of his beer. Again I wondered what had happened at his meeting in New York.
“Dinner will be ready in a few,” I said. “I just need to grate the mozzarella.”
“I’ll do it,” Dad offered. “And you can sit at the counter and tell me all about this stalker you must have forgotten to mention the last time you called.”
I wilted, giving Alec a look of betrayal. “You told him. Thanks for that.”
He didn’t look particularly sorry. “Your dad has some contacts in Tampa PD that might come in use.”
Just then Alec’s phone buzzed, and he removed it from his pocket, quickly scanned through the text message, and placed it back inside. I tried to read his expression to see what that was about, but he seemed to be deliberately avoiding my gaze.
“Turns out Alec and I are on the same page when it comes to your safety.” My father grabbed his beer off a stool and frowned at it. “I guess I should be happy about that.”
With that he headed inside, and I followed, wondering what else Alec had thought to mention in my absence.
*
Dinner went better than expected, considering I had two security-trained, overprotective men reviewing the details of my safety. I learned that Alec had received two calls from his associate in Tampa, and both had led nowhere. Randall had spent the night at a woman’s house in the suburbs, and Melvin Herman was on vacation in the Keys—or at least that’s what the secretary at his accounting firm had said. There had been no movement around my apartment, which had apparently been equipped with a security system in my absence. I didn’t like that Alec had done that without consulting me first, but with my father on his side, the chances of winning an argument about it were slim to none.
I put a halt to the conversation when they started talking about installing a tracer in my phone.
We laughed about my dad’s adventures on the retired-cop bowling team over seconds of homemade lasagna. After, while Dad was taking the dishes in to the kitchen, I felt Alec’s gaze and became aware of the heat rising in my cheeks. Now that we were alone, I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me about the whole I-love-you debacle again.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “My mom taught me how.”
“She must have been very
good.”
“She was.” I took a deep breath. “I’m glad you stayed. I know this probably isn’t what you’re used to.” I motioned around the small dining room. The walls were lined with pictures—most of me, many of my mother—and the old oak cabinet on the far wall held her grandmother’s china.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, reaching for my hand. He watched where our fingers wove together, and I sighed softly as his thumb made a half-moon arc around the base of my wrist.
I lifted my gaze, lost for a moment in the curve of his lips, and his wavy brown hair, and that thin scar over the bridge of his nose. He’d discarded the suit jacket, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, giving just a hint of the swell of muscles at the base of his neck. I had the sudden urge to lick him there. Nip him with my teeth. He liked it when I got a little rough with him.
“Private jets,” I said, clearing my throat. “Fancy hotels. Drivers. I wasn’t apologizing—I love this life . . .” And there I went with the L word again. It wasn’t lost on him, his brows arched and his thumb stilled on the heel of my hand. “I don’t want you to think I’m after your money or something,” I finished lamely.
His mouth gaped open, and then he threw his head back and laughed. It was too bad I didn’t have any more ice water left to drown myself in.
“If you’re after my money, you’re going to be disappointed,” he said. “How much do you think I make?”
I bit my thumbnail. “I don’t know. Six figures at least.”
“Wrong,” he said. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, baby. Max is the one with the money. I just get the perks.”
I thought of his bay-front apartment in the high-rise Maxim owned. Those were some nice perks.
“Damn,” I said. “I went after the wrong guy.”
Beneath the table, his hand closed around my knee and squeezed. He knew it was one of my ticklish spots; I nearly jumped out of my seat. I tried to push him away, but his hand rose higher, fingers spanning over the inside of my thigh. My breath caught. Behind me, I could still hear my dad whistling while he washed the dishes.
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