Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  “I think that sound was your cue to talk—but I’d hurry if I were you,” her dad joked. “This isn’t a capitulation. She’s just lulling us into a false sense of compliance.”

  “Well then,” Roman chuckled. “Here’s the four-one-one. Kim Walsh? Never going to bother any of us ever again. Her goose, as they say, is quite thoroughly cooked. Assault with intent. Kidnapping. Illegal possession of a firearm. Resisting arrest. Falsifying records. Breaking and entering. The list is long, and she basically has no defense.”

  “Can she get Botox in jail?” she bit out. Apparently, the drugs didn’t diminish any of her waspishness toward that fucking bitch who almost ruined all their lives.

  “Hell to the no!” Roman drawled. “In a couple of months, she’s gonna look like a crack whore on a bender.”

  “Will my daughter have to face her again? In court?”

  “Probably not, Professor. Her lawyer isn’t stupid. They’ll plea bargain and she’ll most likely get a full psych eval but regardless of that—she’s going to be wearing an orange jumpsuit for a long, long time. My contact at the FBI tells me that the gun she got popped with was used in a shooting. That alone is going to tie up her legal guy in knots.”

  “Hear that, sweetie? The bad woman is toast.”

  “Oh, and here’s some good news, Princess. The missing memory stick? The one with your private pictures? It’s in the safe at BPG. Marjorie had got it from that Martin woman before she threw her ass to the wolves. Kim had given it to her so more embarrassing pictures could leak out. “

  Gasping, Rhi muttered, “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. And the Model T kit you were going to give the Boss for Christmas? Well, you-know-who tried to pass it off as a present from her. It’s sitting in his office. He knew there was something odd about it and once her confession started pouring out, she admitted to stealing it from your apartment.”

  “A Model T, huh?” her dad murmured. “Well, that certainly explains why your boyfriend asked about the Thunderbird. Said he’d love to see it. I told him we’d take it out for a spin when you two come home for a visit.”

  Wow, whatever narcotics they were pumping into her system must be really good because she swore her dad just referred to Liam as her boyfriend. And did he also say they were going to hang out in the garage and ooh and ahh over that damn classic car?

  “You have a Thunderbird?” Roman asked. “Holy shit, Professor. My brother and I restored a 1970 Bird with a four-twenty-nine engine. That baby was sick as shit when we were finished.”

  Her dad laughed. “1957—fully restored. Almost ended in a divorce, too.”

  Rhi couldn’t believe they were talking cars while she lay there in a hospital bed. Men. Sheesh.

  “Hello!” she grumbled. “I’m right here, you know.”

  “Oh. Sorry, daughter. Guy talk. I must say, though, that you have some mighty fine men in your corner these days. Nothing could make me and your mom happier, you know.”

  “Daddy—about Liam. And me. Well, you should know that . . .”

  “Hush now, Rhiann,” he told her gently. “There’s nothing for you to explain. Liam filled me in on everything. I believe he imagined he was falling on the sword or something, but there was really no need for anything like that. In fact, he surprised the holy hell out of me.”

  “Oh god,” she moaned. “What did he do?”

  Roman squeezed her hand and moved to the other side of the bed chuckling, “Wait till you hear this. Priceless, really. Wished I’d gotten it on my phone.”

  Robert Baron-Wilde let out a hearty laugh and kissed her on the cheek. The one that wasn’t bruised and five times its normal size.

  “I believe your fella has asked me, for want of a better expression, for my permission to court you.”

  These drugs were amazing! That had to be why she suddenly felt like she was floating on cloud nine.

  “And by court you, he quite specifically included the caveat that this courting would take place with an eye to asking for your hand.”

  The only thing that could possibly make this moment any better would be if . . .

  “Hi. You done talking? Can I come in?” she heard Liam hesitantly ask.

  Rhiann turned her head and found him standing in the doorway to her room, dressed in the jeans she picked out for him and a plain button-down shirt. His hair was a mess and the stubble she loved was now a fully formed beard.

  “I love you,” she murmured as a huge lump of emotion gathered in her throat.

  “Milaya moya. I love you, too,” he immediately answered.

  Her father cleared his throat. “Well, I think that’s our cue to leave, Mr. Bishop. What say you and I grab a coffee and compare car notes? Leave these two to the mushy stuff.”

  “My thought exactly, Professor.”

  “Liam,” her dad said with a stern fatherly voice. “I’m leaving her to your care. Her mother and I trust that you’ll look after our precious daughter.”

  She watched through her one good eye as her complicated, fucked-up, conflicted, socially awkward man, the one who gave wings to her heart, shook hands with her amazing father.

  “You have my word, Professor. She’s, well . . . Rhiann means everything to me, sir. I’d give up my life to protect her.”

  “Yes, well—that’s all well and good, son. But I think what this situation calls for is a little more hugging and kissing and a little less of the serious stuff.”

  “I love you, Daddy,” she murmured with a tearful sniff.

  He looked back and forth at them as Liam moved to her side and lifted the hand not stuck full of needles to his mouth for a soft kiss.

  “No babies before a wedding. Got it?” he drawled with a crooked smile. “One pregnant bride in the family is enough.”

  Roman barked a laugh, smacked Liam on the back, and nodded to her dad. Then, with a mock long-suffering sigh, he grinned at her and said, “Shit. Another thing to add to my job description. Now I have to deliver Princess Snarks-a-Lot to the altar before the damn stick shows a plus sign.”

  Rhiann groaned at the jest. Her dad high fived Roman and Liam. He stood there grinning like an idiot without the slightest hint of a scowl to mar his handsome face.

  Cloud nine? Round trip, please!

  “IF YOU SO MUCH AS move a muscle, I’m going to put you over my knee. Understood?”

  Rhiann tried to look fierce and put out, but all her facial expressions these days seemed to be the same. Beaming smiles.

  After a week in the hospital during which her overly protective man had the poor medical team assigned to her care run every test known to mankind, she’d finally been released.

  She’d cried like a baby after discovering that several inches of her scalp had been shaved where stitches were needed to close the gash caused when her head had smacked into the wall.

  “My hair!” she wailed as if it actually mattered. And that was nothing compared to her reaction when, after badgering a nurse non-stop, she’d been allowed to look in the mirror.

  One entire side of her face was swollen beyond recognition and what had started as a black eye was now a purpley, yellow bruise that spread almost to her ear and down her cheek.

  When Liam had found her in tears over the way she looked, he told her in no uncertain terms that she should immediately shut up because to him, she was simply the most beautiful thing in the universe.

  That he said so with a stern scowl on his handsome face as he stood there in all his three-piece suited glory was the best thing that had happened to her in forever.

  No expense had been spared or comfort overlooked when he’d had them flown home on a private flight that took luxury to an eleven.

  There’d been no discussion whatsoever about how things were going to go once they returned to New York and while, ordinarily, she’d be pretty bent out of shape about Mr. High and Mighty taking complete control of her life, she was inwardly over the moon with his domineering, take charge ways.

  On the sho
rt flight home, with Roman occupied with some fascinating new app he’d downloaded to his phone, Liam had tucked a soft cashmere throw around her legs . . . apparently, she was an invalid . . . and then took hold of her hand like he was never going to surrender it.

  “How do you feel? Can I get you anything? Are you comfortable? Need more air?”

  She had to smile at his Nurse Nancy approach.

  Lifting the fingers he held, she stroked his hand across her cheek and smiled lovingly into his beautiful blue-grey eyes.

  “I have everything I need right here,” she’d told him.

  He hesitated. She supposed he’d always do that, but at least the hesitant pauses were getting shorter and shorter.

  Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a small box with a satin ribbon topped with a crushed bow that he placed in her hands so solemnly that she had a pause of her own.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  Smirking, he chuckled softly. “I believe we call this a present. Open it.”

  With slightly trembling fingers, she pulled the ribbon off and looked him in the eyes. “What did you do, Ashforth?” she teased.

  Another smirk. Oh, goody!

  “Missed Valentine’s Day.” He shrugged with a surprisingly self-deprecating tone.

  Valentine’s Day? She hadn’t given it a thought. Never did. There’d never been any need. But now? Oh, dear Lord. He’d given her a sweetheart gift.

  Beaming at him, she slowly lifted the lid, wanting to prolong the exquisite anticipation and bask a little longer in the love shining from his eyes.

  Separating the folds of tissue paper, she found a simple chain on which hung a delicate heart studded with three tiny green gems.

  Gasping, she picked up the chain watching the gleaming silver heart dangle and sway.

  “Liam! It’s beautiful.”

  He reached for her neck and began to unhook the other silver heart he’d given her. The one that spoke to their younger selves when they’d been flush with the glow of first love.

  “No!” she protested, but he just pushed her hands away and removed the old necklace. “But I love that heart,” she pouted.

  He took it and put it in his suit jacket, putting his hand over his heart for emphasis once it was safe in his pocket.

  “This one,” he told her, “we’ll give to our first daughter.”

  Rhiann choked back a startled gasp—her eyes brimming with sudden tears.

  As he hung the new chain on her neck, the lovely heart with the emerald stones hung just above her cleavage, and he touched it gently as it lay on her skin.

  “The three stones are for us. You, me, and Mr. Macho over there,” he motioned with his head. “So, we’ll never forget how close we all came to . . .” His voice, which sounded strangled and overwrought with emotion, deserted him.

  “Oh, baby,” she murmured.

  Touching the delicate jewelry, she glanced at Roman and then back to the face of the only man she’d ever loved. Would ever love.

  “Take me home, big guy.”

  And he did.

  “What do you mean, she’s taken off again? To go where? Sheesus! Can’t that girl stay in one place?”

  “I do not know what’s going on with her,” Brynn muttered with a pithy snort. “Everything was fine. I mean, you saw her. Things were going great and then, I don’t know. With the wedding and everything, I guess I missed a change in her vibe. If there even was one.”

  “Hmmph,” Rhiann grunted.

  She was video chatting with her sister—something that was fast becoming a favorite activity. With Brynn starting to nest as she and Jax prepared to become parents, the two sisters stayed in almost constant touch.

  “Now that you mention it, she did seem a little strange at the rehearsal dinner.”

  Brynn barked out a good-natured laugh. “Strange? Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. But you know Charlie, and calling her strange seems like a damn understatement.”

  “True, that,” Rhi snickered. “So, where’d she go? And do Mom and Dad have anything to do with this?”

  “Well, here’s the thing. They thought she was going to go hang with them after we got back from the honeymoon. It was great of her to hold things together here, with Amy, while we were gone and everyone assumed she’d hightail it back to Happy Valley soon as she could.”

  “And that’s not what happened?”

  Brynn snorted. “No. Hardly. We were barely unpacked when she up and announced she was outta here. And you’ll never friggin’ believe where she went.”

  “Oh, Lord. Not back to Italy, I hope.”

  “I wouldn’t have been all that surprised if that was what she did, but you know Charlize. Always full of surprises. Nope. No passport needed this time. Without so much as a backward glance, she packed up her shit and moved, lock, stock, and a barrel full of Tuscan pottery into Nana’s.”

  “Whaaaat? She’s in Philadelphia? With Nana? Why? What. The. Hell?”

  “Right? Jax is just as mystified. She’d been getting along so well with him and his whole crew. Did I tell you they’ve converted the garage into an office and workspace for the business? Well, anyway—things were going great and then all of a sudden she was like . . . later.”

  Rhiann didn’t know what to make of this news. Charlie? In Philadelphia? With Nana? Talk about wild cards.

  “Hey, not to change the subject or anything but speaking of your Butt Whacker and his crew . . . that brother of his is yummy and then some, huh?”

  “Caleb? Oh, my god, yes! And Jax is like, literally over the moon that he’s going to stay and be part of the business. Guy’s got mad design skills and an eye for anything even remotely different or unique.”

  “Different or unique, you say? You mean like our Charlize? You don’t think he had anything to do with her taking off like that, do you?”

  The two sisters sat in pensive silence for a bit.

  “Oh. My. God,” Brynn finally muttered. “Now that you put it that way, Caleb has been like a bear since she left. Always growling and stomping around here like he’s thinking about punching someone.”

  “Really? Do you think . . .”

  “Nah. Come on. They barely know each other.”

  “You two girls finished gossiping yet?” Rhiann heard Jax tease from somewhere off camera.

  “Baby, get over here,” Brynn demanded. “Rhi and I were just talking about Charlie and that whole running off to Philly thing. You don’t think all that had anything to do with your brother, did it?”

  “Uh.”

  Why do men always fall back on a stupefied uh when they found themselves in the crosshairs?

  “Jackson Merrill! What the hell,” Brynn cried. “They don’t even know each other.”

  “Yeah,” Jax muttered. “About that . . .”

  THE END

  for now

  As always, my deepest thanks and gratitude go to Jenny Sims. If I could fangirl an editor- she’d be beating me back with a stick

  Ella Fox

  There aren’t enough words to cover how big an impact she has on everything I write

  Sommer Stein–Cover Designer

  Thank you for bringing the Wilde Women series to life with your beautiful cover designs

  Stacey Blake—Formatter

  What you do makes me smile!

  The way you format my stories is like having the best pair of shoes imaginable for a favorite outfit!

  Shauna Miller—Personal Assistant

  BFF and the only other person I know who, like me, has for twenty odd years had the same hairstyle.

  Suzanne Halliday writes what she knows and what she loves—sexy adult contemporary romance with strong men and spirited women. Her love of creating short stories for friends and family has developed into a passion for writing romantic fiction with a sensual edge. She finds the world of digital, self-publishing to be the perfect platform for sharing her stories and also for what she enjoys most of all—reading. When she’
s not on a deadline you’ll find her loading up on books to devour.

  Currently a wanderer, she and her family divide their time between the east and west coast, somehow always managing to get the seasons mixed up. When not digging out from snow or trying to stay cool in the desert, you can find her in the kitchen, 80’s hair band music playing in the background, kids running in and out, laptop on with way too many screens open, something awesome in the oven, and a mug of hot tea clutched in one hand.

  To keep up with Suzanne:

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