by Lori Foster
Sahara nodded. “She’d been after Scott for a while so she was always on her best behavior around him. He never saw her more devious, cutthroat side. Mostly he considered her a spoiled princess type, but not really dangerous. She’d told Scott that yes, she’d flirted with the men after having too much to drink, but that she hadn’t meant any harm. It came down to her perception against theirs, and Scott decided they’d only misunderstood. He didn’t want to condemn her after one incident, you know? Men,” she said in disgust. “They never seem to realize how lethal women can be.”
Suddenly, Brand knew that Sahara had taken matters into her own hands. “What did you do?”
With a careless shrug, she explained, “She was doing her best to get the guards into trouble, and that really infuriated me, especially when Scott didn’t one hundred percent side with them.”
“You went against your brother?”
“I protected my brother...by warning her off.” As if she thought he might criticize her for it, she rushed on, saying, “Scott had done the same for me plenty of times. He was always checking up on anyone I dated, so I just returned the favor. He seemed blinded to her true nature, but I sure wasn’t. So I...had her followed.”
“Wow,” Brand said. Sahara’s relationship with her brother was nothing short of incredible. To him, it sounded like they were close, but also adversarial.
And for sure, Scott overstepped—often.
Memories had her scowling. “I ended up with some juicy recordings of her in some very bizarre acts.”
“Bizarre how?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’d love to give you every gory detail, but part of my deal with her was that I wouldn’t expose her if she’d stay away from Scott. Let’s just say the rumors are true and leave it at that.”
He imagined Chelsea Tuttle causing harm and it turned his stomach. “One question, okay?”
“All right.”
“Did she always have willing partners?”
Loathing hung heavy in her tone when Sahara replied, “Unfortunately, no, and that’s where I drew the line. I reported her to the DA.”
“Douglas Grant?”
“Yes. Because he knew her better than I did, and because I’d agreed not to expose her, I took Grant’s word that he’d handle it.”
“Since he told me she’s like a niece to him, I gather he did nothing?”
“No, he didn’t—the lying bastard.”
Brand knew her well enough to guess. “You took matters into your own hands?”
“In a way. I told Chelsea that if I ever heard of her enacting her sick games on anyone else, or if she ever sought out my brother again, I’d happily destroy her. Publicly, financially and with some physical harm thrown in.”
Yup, that sounded like the Sahara he knew and lo—Brand pulled up short on that thought. It was too soon, too many things were up in the air, and...the idea of caring that much unsettled him.
But he couldn’t keep from touching her.
Reaching across the seat, he rested his hand over Sahara’s thigh. “You’re a hell of a great sister, Sahara.”
“I wonder if Scott would agree.” She covered his hand with her own. “So spill. What did the evil one say about me?”
“Well, it makes more sense now, but basically she said you were a nuisance at Body Armor.”
“Of all the nerve.”
She sounded only mildly insulted, so Brand guessed she’d been expecting something worse. “I shut her down.”
“Did you?”
“Accused her of being jealous.” He grinned. “She didn’t take it well.”
“I notice it didn’t get her off you.”
“No, I’m not sure anything short of a crowbar would have accomplished that. The lady was grabby.”
“Lady is hardly an apt description. Just be glad you didn’t go off alone with her. God only knows what would have happened to you.”
Since he knew he could hold his own against a woman, no matter how devious or twisted she might be, Brand laughed.
They chatted for another twenty minutes while driving, until Sahara got out her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Just trying to reply to that text again.”
He waited while she thumbed in a message. “And?”
“Still not received.” She dropped the phone back into her purse. “It is so frustrating.”
Brand wondered when she would mention her suspicion. He knew who she thought had sent that text.
After everything that had happened, damned if he wasn’t starting to think it possible, too.
Instead of saying what she had on her mind, she went back to her nemesis. “I still say you looked awfully cozy with Chelsea.”
“I was shaking her off and you know it. You’re the one who let your kidnapper crawl into your space.”
“I was trying to find out about my brother.”
He kept silent, waiting.
“Brand?”
“Yeah?” The sun came out with a vengeance, glaring across the windshield.
“Can I tell you something?”
He slipped on sunglasses as he took the exit off the freeway. “You can tell me anything.”
“Okay, then.” She drew a breath. “I care an awful lot about you.”
Not what he’d thought she would say.
As the words stroked over him like a warm caress, Brand slowly smiled. “Is that so?” He waited for further confirmation, then he’d tell her that he felt the same.
In a sudden rush, she said, “I also think my brother is alive, and in fact, I believe he’s the one who sent the warning shot at Ross and then texted me.” She ended that with a huge, beatific smile.
Damn, Sahara knew how to take him off guard. First, she sidetracked him with the admission of how much she cared, and then brought him sharply back around with the speculation on her brother that he’d been expecting.
He took a left off the exit, noting how the scenery changed to tall trees and endless fields. The colors of fall were everywhere, making for a beautiful sight beneath the blue sky and bright sun. “That’s a dangerous habit, honey.”
“What?”
“Saying things that make my head spin while I’m driving.”
“Why would your head spin? It makes sense. Who else would be protecting me if not Scott?”
So she didn’t want to talk about her first declaration? Since he wasn’t sure what to say in return, he let that go for now.
As to her brother, he tended to agree, but he wanted to hear her thoughts before he drew too many conclusions of his own. “Tell me why you’re so sure it’s him.” If it turned out they were both right, someone would have a lot of explaining to do.
She turned to face him. “If Scott faked his own death, he had to have had a really good reason. If that reason still exists, it’s possible he can’t come forward yet, but of course, he’d want to protect me anyway. There’s no way he’d let me be hurt if he could stop it.”
Brand took yet another turn and the paved road narrowed to a rough gravel lane as it led to the inherited farm where Maxi and Miles now lived. “If you believe all that, then you also have to believe he knew that Ross Moran kidnapped you.” And he had done nothing. “Why else would he worry about the man being near you, unless he knew he was a kidnapper?”
“Ross said he did a job for Scott and never got paid. If Scott didn’t pay him, he had to have a good reason.”
“So we can assume that he knows Ross personally.” Scott would have known the danger existed, but he hadn’t insulated Sahara from it.
In Brand’s view, that was unforgivable.
For only a second, Sahara considered that. “Maybe Scott just found out about the kidnapping. Maybe—”
From a cornfield on the passenger’s side, a beat-up truck bar
reled out, engine revving at breakneck speed.
Cursing, Brand thrust out an arm to pin Sahara back in her seat, then hit the gas, steering one-handed as he attempted to avoid a collision.
He didn’t quite make it.
Deliberately, the truck clipped the back of her car. The wheels lost traction on the loose gravel. They fishtailed wildly, bumped in and out of the ditch before Brand brought the car to a jarring halt in the middle of the road.
He glanced in the rearview mirror; he knew Justice wasn’t far behind, but he didn’t yet see him.
The truck, engine still revving, filled his rearview mirror.
“Call Justice if you can.”
Sahara, wide-eyed, scrambled to grab her phone. Her purse had spilled to the floor and it took her a frantic few seconds to locate it.
“Tell him we’re riding like hell to the house, so if he doesn’t catch up, that’s why.” Just as Brand finished, the truck lunged forward, spitting gravel and filling the air with dust.
Vaguely aware of Sahara talking low and fast, Brand stepped on the gas and sped away. He concentrated on staying ahead of the truck and on the country road, despite the sharp twists and turns.
Seeing a big curve ahead, he went faster, saying to Sahara, “Fuck this.” They’d never make it to the house without another incident. He had to act now. “When I get out, you slide over behind the wheel.”
“Brand!”
“Anything happens, you drive on. Do you understand me?”
“I won’t leave you,” she shouted, her tone panicked, her expression appalled.
“You will, because I can’t do shit if I have to worry about you. Now promise me, damn it.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
He jerked the car to the side of the road, slammed it into Park and stepped out—his gun already in his hand.
The truck skidded around the corner. The driver spotted him taking aim in the middle of the road, and swerved in surprise before slamming on the brakes.
Brand fired. His first shot hit the grille of the truck. The second caught the hood and the third destroyed a tire.
To his surprise, the chickenshits immediately drove into a field in a giant U-turn and ran off.
Apparently a direct confrontation hadn’t been on the agenda.
With the sunshine pouring through their windshield and highlighting both their faces, he’d gotten a good look at them.
They were the same men he’d pounded on when he’d found them talking about Sahara after locking her in a basement. Men who worked with Ross Moran.
So much for the bastard not hurting her.
He watched until he couldn’t see the truck anymore, then turned back to Sahara’s car. She was behind the wheel, the car in gear and her foot on the brake.
It reassured him that she had listened and was ready to react. Now he knew he could trust her to be reasonable when necessary. Keeping an eye on the road, Brand headed to the driver’s side.
Sahara immediately put the car in Park. Eyes sparking and with a slight tremor to her voice, she climbed out, shouting, “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Bemused, Brand murmured, “So much for being reasonable.”
When she faced him defiantly, Brand sucked in his breath.
“Damn.” Until that moment, he hadn’t realized that she’d hit her head. A thin trail of blood cut down her forehead, across one eyebrow, then along her temple. It came from a swelling lump on the right side of her forehead. “You’re hurt!”
Mouth tight, she blinked at him. “That sounds like an accusation.” She thrust a finger at his chest. “I can’t help it that my head bumped the window. It’s fine.”
“You’re not fine, damn it.” He pulled off his shirt and reached for her. “You’re bleeding.”
She took a swift step back. “Don’t you dare soil your shirt! We’re already going to be late getting to the party. I don’t want you showing up shirtless.”
Incredulous, Brand stared at her. Adrenaline still pumped through his blood, and he could barely focus around the rage burning through him. “It’s not a party,” he gritted out, “and we’re heading to the hospital to have you checked.” Again, he reached for her.
She bumped into the open door. Holding up a hand, she said, “I have tissues in the car so I don’t need your shirt, and we’re not going to the hospital. If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fine.”
Brand lifted her chin, winced at the expanding bruise and made a decision. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pull the boss card.”
With a gasp, she asked, “To insist on the hospital? No.”
“We agreed—”
“I want to go to the party. I really do. Why can’t you just trust me when I say that I’m okay?”
It wasn’t a damned party, and she was hurt, but her blue eyes pleaded with him. He wasn’t a big enough dick to insist when she’d obviously been looking forward to a day out.
Against his better judgment, he said, “You’ll tell me if you start to feel sick, if your head hurts or if you get dizzy?”
“Yes, I promise.”
He blew out a breath. “I do trust you, so if you say you’re not hurt that bad, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Thank you.” She smiled now that she’d gotten her way. “I actually have a first aid kit in the trunk. I just need a bandage or something.”
Or something. “Remember, if you start to feel bad in any way, we’re going.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
Thrusting a hand into his hair, he growled with impotent frustration. She was the most infuriating, unique, incredible woman...
Just then Justice came around the corner, saw them and pulled up at the side of the road.
He whistled when he got out. “Damn, Sahara. You okay?”
Happy now that she’d gotten her way, she all but sang, “Yes, of course,” and went around to the passenger side to get the tissues while Brand opened the trunk.
“She bumped her head,” Brand explained to Justice, watching as Fallon hurried to join Sahara. “I wanted to take her to the hospital—”
“And she refused.” Justice nodded. “Yeah, Sahara isn’t a wimp, but she is god-awful stubborn. It’d probably require a severed limb for her to willingly go.”
Another surge of anger cut through him. “Probably. Help me keep an eye on her, okay?”
“You bet.”
“Did you see the truck?” Brand found the kit and went around to the passenger side.
“Driving like a bat out of hell, one tire blown. I’d have given chase but—”
“You have Fallon with you.”
“Yeah.” Justice added, “Plus I wasn’t sure what had happened with you two, whether or not you needed help.”
While Brand used a premoistened antiseptic swab to clean away the blood from her face, Sahara detailed the “adventure” with enthusiasm. “I was so impressed with Brand’s driving. He’s as good as I am, and you know I don’t give that compliment lightly.”
Justice snorted. “You’re a lunatic. I’m still traumatized from the time you decided we were being chased.”
She grinned. “I thought we were.”
“Bull. You just wanted to show off.”
Her grin widened even more. “You could be right.”
Brand had difficulty breathing, so he sure as hell couldn’t grin. She was hurt, bruised and bleeding. The attacks were adding up. No one knew when the next might happen, or how much worse it might be.
How could she keep joking?
Fallon, Justice’s fiancée, joined them, her soft eyes concerned. “At least you didn’t get much blood in your hair.”
“True. Good thing I’d put it in a braid.” She looked down at herself. “Unfortunately, I did get some on my shirt, but it’s dark so I should be able to rinse it
out.”
Already the bleeding had stopped, but Brand saw that the swelling was worse. “We need to get some ice on this.”
“We’re not far from the house,” she said. “I’ll take care of it then.” She stared up at Brand. “Is it colorful?”
“Very.”
“Is that why you look so grim?”
The urge to chase down the bastards and annihilate them scorched any efforts at being pleasant. “We were damn near T-boned on purpose, driven off the road and you got hurt. What do you think would have happened if they’d gotten to you?”
With a small butterfly bandage now on her head, she snuggled against him, saying soothingly, “I knew you wouldn’t let that happen.”
Did she really have that much faith in him—or was it that nothing ever truly rattled her? He couldn’t say, but he crushed her close, uncaring that Justice rolled his eyes and Fallon smiled.
Against his chest, Sahara asked, “Is my car hurt?”
“Yeah, but it can be repaired.”
“I know.” She patted his back. “You recognized them, too?”
“The same bozos I stomped when I—”
“Rescued me.” She leaned back to grin at him. “And this time was no less daring.”
“Sahara,” he said with exasperation. The last thing he wanted was for her to romanticize the whole thing.
She turned to Justice. “I wish you could have seen him step out to the middle of the road, legs braced apart, arms straight as he took aim. Very Dirty-Harryish.” She shivered dramatically. “Made my heart pound, it was so sexy.”
“Yeah,” Justice said, giving Brand a hard whack on the shoulder. “I bet that’s exactly how he wants you to describe it.”
The irony in his tone made Brand’s ears hot. “Fuck off, Justice.”
Both Sahara and Fallon laughed.
With everyone being ridiculous, it was another fifteen minutes before they finally arrived at the house.
Fall was especially in evidence here. Maxi had inherited a small house on a beautiful piece of land, surrounded by an assortment of trees now displaying various shades of red, orange and yellow. Sunlight glittered through the leaves and off the large pond. Dozens of feral cats perched around the property, watching their arrival.