Just Trust Me, A Brother's Best Friend Novel (Carrington Cousins Book 2)

by Amy Summers

  David's fingers tightened on the edge of the counter. "Because people are going to be coming to buy it. "

  Chris's eyes were wide and innocent of all malice. "How come?"

  David was working hard at controlling himself now. He spoke slowly and with effort. "Because they'll be hungry."

  "How come?"

  The glass he'd been moving slipped out of his hand and shattered on the tiled floor, and David looked at it gratefully. "No more questions for a while, Chris," he said with relief. "I've got to clean up this mess."

  "Okay," the boy said, so cheerfully cooperative it made David feel guilty.

  As soon as he finished cleaning up the broken glass, he smiled at Chris. "Hey, how's that coloring coming?" he asked him.

  "How come you don't have a TV?" Chris asked, ignoring David's question and launching right into one of his own. “Or an ipad.”

  David blinked. The questions were starting up again, and he didn't know how long be could take it. "I don't know. I guess my grandmother took her portables with her."

  He looked at the boy. Well, here was the problem. He was letting the kid dictate the agenda here. If he took the initiative and guided the conversation, they might be able to handle something that didn't make him want to climb walls.

  "You wouldn't want to watch TV here, anyway. All the programs are in Spanish," he said, trying to think of a direction to go in.

  "I know Spanish," said Chris, providing one on his own.

  "You do?" This was better. He grinned at the kid. "What do you know in Spanish?"

  Chris's face contorted with effort and he yelled out, “Si!” at the top of his lungs.

  David laughed. "That's a good Spanish word. You want to learn something else in Spanish?"

  Chris nodded, his eyes wide.

  "Okay. Say this, muchas gracias. That means thank you."

  "Moossh graassus."

  "Muchas gracias."

  "Muchas grassssus."

  "Good. Now say this, buenos dias. That means good morning. Buenos dias."

  Chris frowned but his lips didn't seem to want to try it. Suddenly his face lit up. "I know another Spanish word," he said proudly, and repeated a four-letter word that was not very polite.

  David swallowed hard. "Uh, no, Chris. That's not a good Spanish word. And if you use it again, your mom will wash your mouth out with soap." He frowned. That desperate feeling was threatening again. What did he know about kids and how to respond to them? What if he were scarring this one for life? "Who taught that to you, anyway?" he asked in exasperation.

  Chris shrugged.

  "Well, for Pete's sake, don't go telling your mother you learned it from me."

  "The men on the boat taught it to him," Jill chimed in from the table. "I told Mama and she told them to quit it."

  David turned and smiled at her. He'd been ignoring the girl. Of course, the boy was so demanding of attention, and she was so quiet, that probably happened to her a lot. He decided to make an effort at drawing her out a little.

  Sauntering over to her table, he flopped down into a chair. "What have you got there?" he asked, gesturing toward her notebook.

  "My journal." Jill looked at him owlishly over the top of the notebook. "I keep track of things in here."

  She was cute. He could see the potential for a woman very much like her mother inside her. "Oh, yeah? What sort of things?"

  "Lists. And things about people."

  "People?" It seemed a strange preoccupation for such a young girl.

  She nodded, watching him. "I have pages for people."

  "What sort of people?" he asked, expecting to hear about her little friends back home.

  "The people mama goes out with," she told him serenely.

  Okay, now be was interested. He leaned forward, his chin in his hands and smiled at her. "You mean, men?"

  She nodded.

  He eyed the notebook the notebook. "No kidding. Does your mother, ..ah….go out with a lot of men?"

  Jill shook her head. "No. We're trying to make her."

  He stared at the little girl, not sure whether to smile or suppress it. She was undoubtedly the oddest girl he'd ever known. But then, how many little girls did he know? Maybe they were all like this these days.

  "You're trying to make her go out with a lot of men?" he repeated, just wanting to get it straight.

  Jill nodded. "We wanna get a daddy."

  Ah-hah. So that was it. But wait. Wasn't there a catch? "I. ..I thought you had a daddy."

  Jill shook her head, completely matter-of-fact about it. "We don't like him. We want somebody we like."

  Just as candid as her mother. He shook his head.

  Jill was still staring at him. She laid the notebook down on the table, open to a page that had a lot of writing on it. "Want to see?" she asked.

  David drew himself up. Of course not. That would be totally classless. Not to mention snoopy and insulting.

  "Uh.. ."

  "Here."

  She put the book in front of him, wide open. He hesitated, but it wasn't as though he'd asked to see it. He leaned forward, completely absorbed.

  "This page is all about Cubby Van Brinkster. See, I wrote down his birthday and where he was born and what he looks like. And then I say things about him. And I ask Chris what he thinks, and I put down what he says, too. 'Cuz it would be his father, too.''

  "Very sporting of you," David murmured, looking the page over. Cubby was tall and blond and very athletic, it seemed. La Crosse, tennis, polo, race horses. Jill had tried to draw a picture but her drawing ability left a lot to be desired at this stage and it wasn't very revealing.

  "If she would marry Cubby Van Brinkster, he would be a good dad," Jill said.

  David drew back, not sure he wanted to hear this. "Would he?"

  She nodded. "Yeah. He likes to play with kids. And every time he comes over he brings us new stuffed animals. One time he brought us a tent and we put it up in the living room and pretended we were camping out.'' She giggled, remembering.

  David made a wry face. Now there was a boy who was working on the assumption that the way to Madison's heart was through her children. And maybe he was right. She sure did care about those kids.

  "He sounds like a pretty good guy. What does he do for a living?"

  "I don't know." She frowned, thinking hard. "But maybe he works in a circus. Mama said once that he's a clown."

  David felt a grin spreading across his face. "Ah. I see." So much for Cubby. He turned the page.

  "This is Jim Stockman. He works in a bank. He brings Mama big presents. He brought her a car once. She made him take it back."

  A rich guy, no doubt. "Tall," the journal noted. "Brown hair. Ugly brown suits."

  "He comes and surprises Mama," Jill went on. "Then he always says, 'Couldn't the kids go and stay over at someone's house tonight?'"

  David almost hated himself for what he asked next. "And what does Mama say to that?" he asked, careful to keep his eyes lowered.

  Jill's nose could scrape the sky just like her mother's. "She says, 'Nope. My kids come first.'"

  David felt his shoulders relax. "Good for Mama," he said softly. Right. So much for gentleman Jim and his fancy presents. He turned the page.

  "Oh, that's Kyle Tanner. He drives race cars. He took Mama to France and we didn't like it 'cuz we had to stay with Grandma and she always has parties."

  Took her to France. David felt a coldness encasing his heart. Kyle might be the one to watch. Cubby was obviously a front runner with the kids, but Kyle was the one who got her to take a trip with him.

  All of this was none of his business, of course. A woman as beautiful as Madison was bound to have male suitors all over the place. And naturally she would like some of them, like them enough to...

  Okay, what was happening inside him now was stupid. He had no right to be jealous. There was nothing to be jealous of. She wasn't his. He wasn't even one of Jill's candidates. Madison wasn't even going to be here longer t
han a few more hours. Then she would be gone and he would never see her again. Never see her again. Why did that set up an ache in his gut?

  "How do you and Chris like this Tanner fellow?"

  Jill shrugged. "I don't know. We don't ever get to see him. We didn't go to France."

  Good answer. Logical. Straight forward. "I see." He'd had enough of Kyle. It was time to turn the page.

  And that was where the shock came in. Armand Alexiakis was the name at the top of the sheet.

  He glanced at her sideways. "That's your father, isn't it?"

  She nodded but didn't make any comment. But she didn't have to. He could read the comments for himself. The first notations were written in a steady hand in blue ink and probably made just before they'd come down to Mexico. "My real daddy. Handsome. Rich. Has a boat."

  Then, in different ink and more ragged writing, "Mean, yells a lot, hates kids, made Mama cry."

  He looked up and met Jill's eyes. They were steady and clear. "I don't like him," she said softly. "Is that bad?"

  She was asking him? Well, why not? He was a child of divorce himself. He knew the pain of separation, trying to please two different parents at the same time, always feeling guilty that you couldn't please either of them enough — never enough to get them back together again.

  But he'd loved both his parents. How much worse it must be if you didn't love one of them. That must cut the supports right out from under a kid. Someone should talk to Jill about what she was feeling.

  But how could he talk about things like this with a kid? He looked away and was saved from having to answer as Rosa came hurrying through the door.

  "Rosa," he said, surprised. "Is it already...?" He looked at his watch and groaned. The two hours had gone by much more quickly than he would have thought. "Ten minutes to opening and I'm not ready." He rose from the seat and turned to greet the older woman.

  "Hola," Rosa said, plunking her things down on the table where Jill was sitting. "Who is this?"

  'This is Jill. She's visiting, along with her brother." David turned to include Chris and found only empty air. The counter was bare. The coloring book sat unused. "Hey. Where's Chris?"

  Jill shrugged. David swore under his breath and raced upstairs, shouting for the boy as he ran.

  Rosa watched it all with interest, then turned and eyed the girl. "Where's your mama, nina?"

  Jill looked up, eyes clear and bright. "She's gone to get money for us at the bank. She had to dress up in funny clothes. She'll be back soon."

  Rosa's eyebrows rose. "Did she wear a wig, too?" she asked, her voice shaking.

  Jill nodded. "And funny glasses."

  "To go to the bank and get money?" Rosa asked. A look of horror spread across her face. She started to say more, but before she had a chance to ask another question, David came running back down the stairs. "He's not up there. He must have slipped out. That kid—" He started for the door, then looked back. "Hey, Rosa, will you keep your eye on Jill? I've got to find Chris."

  Rosa nodded, frowning, but he didn't wait to hear her answer. He was out the door and gone. Rosa turned back to the little girl.

  "Is your mama an old friend of David's?" she asked worriedly.

  Jill shook her head. "We just came last night. He said we could stay here." She leaned closer to Rosa and whispered conspiratorially. "We're running away."

  Rosa gave a cry and threw up her hands and let out a string of Spanish that Jill didn't understand. When David reappeared, a recalcitrant Chris in tow, she followed him, talking so fast he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

  Jill watched, fascinated, wondering what the woman was saying. But then David turned, laughing, and took the woman into his arms, hugging her with warm affection, patting her back, calming her down.

  "Cool it, Rosa," he said at last. "I'm not getting involved in bank holdups. I swear to God. Quiet down and I'll explain it all to you."

  Jill watched as he did just that. The woman wiped tears from her eyes and said things in Spanish. David laughed and looked at her with love, and Jill opened up her notebook to a fresh page. "David Coronado," she wrote at the top of the sheet. "Very handsome," she added. And then she waited, pen poised, for more of him to be revealed.

  Chapter 5

  David didn't have time to start worrying about Madison until the noon rush had subsided a bit. That was when it hit him. She wasn't back. How long did it take to get money from a bank?

  Rosa was being great with the kids, now that she'd calmed down and accepted the true state of affairs. Instead of consigning Jill and Chris to the bedroom upstairs, she gave them jobs to do, helping her take orders and serve the food, and the customers were enchanted by the tiny new staff. Most of them had known David for years and were as much friends as customers. He got a lot of teasing about being a baby-sitting bachelor, and the women cooed over the kids. All in all, it worked out well.

  But Madison wasn't back. It beat like a drum behind everything he did. Madison wasn't back.

  It was almost two o'clock—afternoon closing time—and the kids were getting cranky.

  "I'll put them down for a nap," Rosa offered, and as there were only a few customers left in the cafe, David nodded.

  The bell on the front door rang just as they reached the stairs. David looked up. A dark man in a light suit was entering, and every nerve in David's body pulsed. This was no local. This wasn't even a tourist. The moment he saw the man, David knew exactly what he wanted.

  The man didn't sit at a table. He didn't slide onto a stool at the counter, either. He came right back into the kitchen and nodded to David as though he had been there before, his eyes cold and cunning.

  "I'm looking for someone," he said shortly in Spanish, pulling out a picture. "Have you seen this woman, or these kids?"

  David didn't give the picture more than a quick glance, then shook his head. "Never seen them before in my life," he lied.

  The man didn't seem surprised, or even very interested. He nodded, put the picture away, and pulled out a card. "If you think you see them or have any information about them, call this number. There'll be a reward for somebody in this."

  David took the card he held out, though every instinct in his body was crying out for him to do violence to this man instead. "Okay," he managed to say, keeping his voice steady. "I'll keep it in mind."

  The man turned to go and suddenly a shrieking giggle of hilarity split the air and Jill's voice rang out in obvious American English. "Stop tickling!"

  David froze with dread. If this were one of the men who had known the kids on the yacht, he might recognize the voice. At the very least, he had to know there was a North American kid upstairs. The man stopped and looked up toward where the voice had come from, and David began judging the distance to the nearest knife and just how long it would take him to reach it.

  "My kids," he said quickly, in English this time, letting the man hear his own American accent. "Can't keep 'em quiet."

  The man looked at him, his eyes hard. Then he nodded curtly. "That's why I don't have any of the little jerks myself," he said, and turned to leave the kitchen area.

  David reached for the knife and held it in his hand, his nerves steady, adrenaline pumping through his body. His gaze never left the man. If he stopped and showed that picture to any one of the customers lingering over coffee, they would instantly recognize the kids. And then David would have to do something extreme.

  But the man didn't stop, and in another moment, he'd passed through the café and was gone.

  David let all the air out of his lungs in a rush. Suddenly he had new respect for Madison's paranoia. Her ex-husband really was searching the town for her, and using some hardened characters to do it. Unbelievable.

  But where the hell was she? He wanted to go out and look for her, but he couldn't leave the kids. He did go ahead and close the café early, hoping Rosa would stay with the children while he went out and scoured the banks, but she couldn't stay. She had a dentist's appointment she'd b
een waiting for all month, and she wailed and beat her breast and then promised to be back just as soon as possible so that he could go.

  "I'll call as soon as I get back from the dentist and see if you still need me," she said. "Then I'll watch them all the rest of the afternoon, if need be.''

  He had to be satisfied with that. He went upstairs and watched the children sleep, pacing restlessly. If anything had happened to Madison—if Armand had grabbed her—

  It rang inside him. If Armand had grabbed her, he would get her back. No matter what he had to do, that bastard wasn't going to hurt her again.

  He didn't know what the man had done, but he could read the signs. Madison was strong and proud, but something had hurt her. A person didn't get that haunted look for no reason.

  He slumped into a chair and stared at the two blond heads on tbe pillows. All he wanted to do was rush out and protect Madison. Instead, here he was, baby-sitting. Next thing you know, he'd be reading romances.

  He must have dozed, because suddenly she was there, coming in across the room. She'd pulled off the wig, and her blond hair was floating around her shoulders again. For just a second he thought he was dreaming, but then he came fully awake and pulled himself to his feet.

  "What is it?" he said. "What happened?"

  He could see in her eyes that something was wrong.

  She put her finger to her lips and nodded toward where the children were sleeping, then led the way out onto the landing where she sank down onto his couch. Reaching back, she swept the hair up from her neck and leaned her head back, eyes closed. He moved beside her, sitting gingerly on the edge of the cushion, wary of getting too close. She was dangerous again. He had to be careful.

  She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Well, David, it seems that as far as Mexico is concerned, I don't exist."

  He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "I told you I'd called Russ and had him wire money. I went to every bank in town. I talked to bank vice presidents by the score. Most of them thought I was a nut case, thanks to the zany attire. The others were very sorry, but they just couldn't do anything at all for me until I provide the proper identification."