by Lori Foster
“And it obviously worked,” Ross said.
Olsen nodded. “Scott got to the river and spent an hour scoping out the place. I was up on a rise, far enough away that he couldn’t see me while Terrance and Andy got the boat. The plan was to grab him and force him to pay up.”
“It was a good plan,” Andy said, moving closer to her, propping a hip against one of the broken pews. “Until she showed up.”
“She came alone,” Terrance said. “Or so we thought.”
“She’s not stupid,” Ross stated flatly, then his eyes flared and he turned to stare at her. Quietly, he said, “You’re not stupid.”
She released an evil smile. “No, I’m not. Far from it, actually.” Scott, please don’t be dead. She wondered at the time. Brand and the others should be arriving any minute now. She needed to warn them about the rotting floorboards so that no one fell through to the basement.
Not for a second did she doubt that they’d be coming for her. Thank God the tracking device wasn’t in her phone or umbrella, since she’d lost those.
“Son of a bitch.” Ross half laughed, then stood and glanced toward the door in expectation.
“What is it?” Andy asked. Alarmed, he grabbed Sahara’s arm and jerked her toward him so roughly she stumbled off her feet and almost lost her blanket. “Did you hear something?”
Ross blew out a slow breath. “No.” He glanced at the way Andy held her and how she scrambled to keep the blanket around her. “There’s nothing there. Let her go, Andy.”
“Bullshit.” Gaze frantic, Andy jerked her to stand in front of him. “You’re in on it, aren’t you, Ross?”
Terrance frowned. “You’re losing it, Andy. Don’t say shit you’ll regret.”
Olsen now stared at the front door, too.
Wrapping an arm tight around her waist and poking a gun into her ribs, Andy snarled, “This is a fucking setup.”
Ross seemed to swell in front of her. “You little prick.” He started forward with a determined stride. “You dare accuse me?”
“I’ll shoot her!”
Ross froze.
From somewhere behind Sahara, Brand said, “Finger off the trigger or I’ll gladly kill you.”
She jumped, turned her head, and saw that Brand and Leese both stood there, grim-faced, their guns drawn and aimed.
Andy jerked around to face this new threat. He swung his gun wildly back and forth between the two men.
Taking advantage of his panic, Ross threw a meaty fist. Sahara ducked and the punch hit Andy right in the nose.
She heard the crunch.
Brand hauled her up and tucked her behind him.
Ross continued to pound on Andy, who put up a mild show of defense.
Amid the commotion, Terrance bolted out the front door, but he didn’t get far. They all heard the scuffle in the vestibule, then Terrance got tossed back inside, his lifeless body breaking another hole in the floorboards so one arm and shoulder fell through.
Justice stepped in, a taunting smile in place.
“Wait,” Sahara shouted, poking her head up from where Brand tried to shield her. “The floors are rotted! You have to be careful.”
Justice backed up—and his foot went through the floor. He caught himself from falling completely, his arms splayed wide as he grabbed for the wall with one hand, and a table with the other. “Damn.”
All hell broke loose—again.
Olsen withdrew a gun but Ross launched away from Andy and tackled him.
Leese muttered, “He’s doing all our work for us.”
After tucking Sahara down again, Brand said, “Your brother is okay.”
It felt like the weight of the world lifted off her. Leave it to Brand to know exactly what to say. “Thank you.”
Miles stepped through the door. “I suppose since no one else has tried to run out, all the action is in here?”
Leese looked to Sahara. “This is all of them?”
“Yes.” Now that each of her men had joined her, she asked, “Where’s my brother?”
“Out front,” Miles said dismissively. “He was keeping watch with me—”
Which she took to mean that they didn’t trust him, and Miles had ensured he didn’t disappear again.
“—but now he’s calling the police.”
Was he too injured to join them? “He really is okay?”
Brand closely watched the fight between Ross and Olsen. “The bullet only grazed his arm. He hit his head when he fell, but he’s fine.” With that said, he stepped around the pew. “Stay down.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Looking over the edge of the pew, she watched Brand approach the brawl. He appeared far too serious and somewhat...wounded. There was a pinched look to his eyes and a tightness around his mouth.
She glanced at Leese.
He took his eyes off the melee long enough to wink at her.
They both turned back to see the action.
Wrestling Olsen flat to his back, Ross shouted, “Stop fighting, damn it.” He pressed a forearm across Olsen’s throat. “It’s over. Let it go.”
Olsen obligingly went limp, allowing Ross to wrest the gun from his hand.
“Andy was right,” he said with bitter resentment around his great gulps of air. “You fucked us, didn’t you?”
“Actually, he’s in it as deep as you are.” Brand snatched the gun out of Ross’s hand and tossed it to Miles, who’d been about to help Justice get his foot out of the floor. “Maybe deeper.”
Ross groaned. As he turned, he said, “I don’t suppose you’d—”
Brand hit him hard enough to send him sprawling over Olsen again. Both men grunted.
Legs braced apart, shoulders bunched and fists clenched, Brand said, “Get up.”
Ross looked past him to Sahara.
She laughed. “Don’t look at me, you cretin. You brought this on yourself.”
“I tried to help you!”
“After you made me take off my skirt.”
Groaning, he shifted his wary gaze to Brand. “It wasn’t like that, man. I wanted them to believe I was still on board with their idiot plans so I could—”
Brand hauled him up, which given Ross’s size was no easy feat, and threw another punch.
Ross blocked it and took a swing of his own.
Big miscalculation, Sahara thought, when Brand took the blow, grinned and then landed several of his own against Ross, first hitting his face, then his gut, then his face again, ending with a kick to the sternum that sent him sprawling once more, this time to the hard, dirty floor.
With a sigh, she stood upright. “That’s enough.”
“I’m just getting started,” Brand said.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.” Holding tight to the blanket, she stepped around the pew and headed for Brand. “Not only will you destroy the rickety floor, but what Ross said is true. He protected me tonight.”
“Tonight, but that doesn’t explain—”
“He didn’t know anything about them ramming us on the road, or this cockeyed kidnapping plan tonight,” she explained. “If Olsen hadn’t called him, he wouldn’t even be here.”
Sluggishly, Ross sat up. “A little late, honey.”
Going tense all over again, Brand took a step forward.
Sahara grabbed his arm. “Brand, no.” Then to Ross, she blasted, “Imbecile! Don’t you know when to keep quiet?”
He touched his swollen mouth. “I’ll start now.”
Scott came through the door, one arm bandaged, a hand on the back of his head. “Too late. The cops are here and they’re going to be real interested in everything you have to say.”
Ross looked at him. “You and I have some private talking to do?”
Scott gave a mean smile. “I’m counting on it, you bastard.”
/>
“Me?” Ross pointed at Brand. “He’s the one who was cozying up with Chelsea Tuttle.”
Brand locked his jaw. “I wasn’t, but what does that twit have to do with anything?”
Bemused, Scott said, “She’s the one who hired out my murder.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SAHARA COULDN’T REMEMBER ever being so tired. After a lot of talking to the police, and then a visit to the hospital, the night had dragged on into dawn before they finally headed home.
At the emergency room, a physician checked her, Scott and Brand, but no one was seriously hurt. Scott’s arm was cleaned and more properly bandaged. Luckily, neither Brand nor Scott had a concussion, but given their scowls, they both had killer headaches.
She got a tetanus shot after Brand noticed the deep scratch on the back of her calf from the rusty edge of the boat. One of the doctors found her a pair of scrub pants to wear. They were far more comfortable than the blanket.
Against her objections, Scott planned to spend the night at the house. She’d have rather kept him at the suite with her, where she could ensure he wouldn’t disappear again, but then, he and Brand weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye, so perhaps a little time was in order. In any case, she didn’t have the energy to argue about it.
They would all meet up at the office at noon, hopefully better rested.
For a while there, adrenaline had carried her through, but as soon as they arrived at the agency, she crashed. She could barely get one foot in front of the other.
The night guards watched warily as Brand, with an arm around her, helped her to the elevator. To everyone they passed, Brand said, “She’s fine, but it was a hell of a night. Sahara can explain tomorrow.”
She’d made many friends at the agency, she realized. These people cared about her. That was nice.
Of course, she wouldn’t be their boss any longer. She’d always known that when Scott returned, everything would change again.
Exhaustion kept her smile dim, but it was there.
Her brother was home.
Maybe she’d find a way to stay involved in the agency, but if it didn’t work out, she was okay with that.
She had everything she needed.
Inside the elevator, she turned her face up to see Brand. His expression remained stark.
She touched his jaw. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
If anything, his mood further darkened. “Yeah.” He bent and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. “Do you want a quick shower, or just to hit the bed?”
“Hit the bed,” she said with an inelegant yawn. “I’m not sure I could stay awake for a shower.”
Indulgent, he promised, “We’ll shower together in the morning.”
He got her inside the suite then removed her coat and his own before scooping her up and carrying her to the bedroom.
Her hair had dried in matted clumps, the rain had smeared her makeup, but they were both alive and that’s what mattered. Thinking about all the close calls lately made her start to shake.
Brand methodically stripped her, pulled back the covers and helped her into the bed. She wanted to protest the gentle treatment, but she honestly didn’t have it in her.
She remembered the discussion of strength she’d had with the women. Smiling sleepily, she said, “I see what they mean now.”
“Who?”
“Catalina, Maxi and Fallon.” She snuggled into the pillow and closed her eyes. “Fallon insisted that Justice was stronger than her.”
Brand asked, “That was in doubt?”
She heard one shoe drop, then the other. “We were mostly talking about emotional strength and independence. But Maxi said it’s nice to lean on Miles.” She opened her eyes and found Brand stepping out of his jeans and underwear. He tossed them into the pile with the rest of their discarded clothes. “Thank you for letting me lean on you.”
He got into bed and curved around her, his chest to her back, his arms drawing her snug against him. “Thank you for trusting me.”
She loved him, so of course she trusted him. “Brand?”
“Sleep, Sahara.” He kissed her shoulder. “We’ll have plenty of time to work out all the kinks.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
She was almost out when he whispered, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
She smiled...and faded into sleep.
* * *
BRAND WAS SO testy he almost didn’t recognize himself. The bruise on Sahara’s cheek had darkened. Combined with the cut on her temple and the scratch on her calf, she looked battered, yet she’d smiled at him as if nothing had happened.
After coffee, where she chatted in her normal way, they’d showered together.
She’d come on to him. She’d actually wanted sex before meeting everyone in the office.
Brand didn’t know what to think about that, but he hadn’t refused her. He didn’t think he ever could.
Hell, he wanted her all the time.
The sex had been a little desperate, at least on her part, as if she needed the physical reassurance in order to face the emotional turmoil ahead. Aware of her injuries, he’d wanted to be careful with her, but she’d been frantic in her demands. He’d gotten her off first with his mouth, then again by sliding into her hard, the pace fast and deep.
Now she was dressed in her usual chic business attire with a formfitting dark skirt that made her ass look great, a cashmere sweater that fit her breasts to perfection and those I’m-the-boss heels. She’d left her hair loose and, other than the scrapes and bruises, she looked like a million bucks.
Like a very sexy million bucks.
As they headed to the office, she continued to chat, about nothing and about weighty decisions.
“I’m starving. I hope Enoch can rustle up some food, but maybe pastry first.”
“Enoch is adaptable. He can manage anything you request.”
“I’ve gotten used to the suite. I think if Scott plans to move back into the house, I’ll just stay here.” She glanced at him, brows lifted in inquiry. “You like the suite, don’t you?”
“Sure.” Was this her way of inviting him to stay? He had his own place, too, but his apartment didn’t hold any sentimental value. He could ditch it without a qualm.
“I wonder if they’ve made any other arrests yet.”
“I imagine they took care of it last night.” Scott claimed that Chelsea Tuttle had arranged his “murder.” It wouldn’t be easy to prove since she hadn’t been on the yacht during the attempt. Considering that Douglas Grant, with all his influence and power as the district attorney, considered her a niece, implicating her might even be impossible.
Right before they stepped into the office, Sahara stopped her chatter and slipped her hand into his.
Brand paused. Seeing her vulnerable last night had been unsettling but he’d recognized it as an aftereffect of being utterly depleted both physically and emotionally.
Today she was back to her usual energetic self, an unstoppable force, a whirlwind...and yet she’d taken his hand as if she needed support.
She had it, of course. Always. But he couldn’t shake off a niggling worry that something wasn’t sitting right with her.
He could have lost her.
Pulling her around to face him, Brand cupped one hand to her warm, satiny cheek. “What’s going on, baby?”
She gave him a wobbly smile. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
“Sahara Silver, super shark?” His thumb teased over the corner of her mouth. “Nervous about what?”
She glanced around, saw that they were alone in the outer office and exhaled a big breath. “Everything is up in the air. Now that Scott has returned, what will I do?”
“Do?”
She laughed and dropped her forehead against him, hiding her uncertainty.
“This is his business again. I swear, I’m happy to give it up to have him back, but I feel... I don’t know.” She leaned back to search his face, then admitted, “Lost.”
“You’re not lost when you’re with me.”
“Am I with you?” She stared up at him with near desperation. “I know my being the boss was a problem for you. Since I won’t be anymore, maybe—”
Brand leaned down and kissed her. He’d meant it to be a firm smooch of reassurance, but instead he lingered, loving the taste of her mouth, loving everything about her. Against her lips, he promised, “Whatever you do, whether you’re the boss or not, you won’t be rid of me.”
She bit her lip. “Do you mean for the near future, or just for right now, or—”
Enoch opened the door behind them. He seemed inordinately pleased, probably because Sahara finally had her brother back. “Everyone is in the conference room.” He gave Sahara a huge, happy smile. “I already set out coffee and pastries. Anything else you need?”
“Even though it’s lunchtime, I’d love a breakfast sandwich. Do you think you could have one ready for me as soon as we wrap up this meeting?”
“Of course. I’ll call the deli that delivers. They probably have something.”
“Thank you.” She blew a lock of hair out of her face. “It was a really long day yesterday.”
Enoch tilted his head, eyed the bruise on her cheek and nodded. “I’m sure.” He glanced at Brand.
Brand shrugged. How could he reassure Enoch when he was currently so confused himself?
Gently, Sahara said, “I really am fine, both of you. I promise.”
Just as gently, Enoch said, “I’m glad.”
Would she be fine? Brand wondered. What if Sahara’s brother ripped the agency away from her? Where did that leave her? What would Leese, Justice and Miles do if that happened?
He could understand Sahara’s worry, damn it.
Scott stepped out of the room as they approached. His hair, the same color as Sahara’s, hung damn near to his shoulders. His blue eyes were also like hers, only full of cynicism. Again, he opened his arms, and again Sahara hurried to him.