by Lori Foster
Only a few more minutes and he’d be there with her.
“Get real, Phil. I won’t give you a dime unless you tell me why you need it.”
Knuckles going white on the steering wheel, Stack silently prayed that Vanity wouldn’t push Phil too far. At this point, Stack didn’t know what the man was capable of—but he kept remembering that gun in Phil’s dresser, and his guts burned.
Phil no longer had that weapon, but had he gotten another?
“I’m going away,” Phil groaned.
“Where?”
“I don’t know yet.” Something crashed, like a fist on a desk. “She’s framing me!”
Soft, soothing, Vanity said, “Whitney. I know.”
She knew? Stack checked the traffic, then blew through a yellow light. What the hell did she know? What was Whitney up to?
Stack’s surprise was nothing compared to Phil’s.
“You’re working with her,” Phil snarled with rage. “You fucking bitch.”
“Phil!” Vanity’s voice snapped with authority. “Don’t be more of an idiot than you’ve already been. I’m trying to help you.”
Heavy breathing came through the line, and Phil asked, “Help me how?”
Convincing, calm, Vanity told him, “I hired a PI when I thought you were the one trying to hurt Stack. I know he can take care of himself, but not if someone sneaks up on him...although, I guess he handled that situation, too.”
“He’s a fucking wrecking ball.”
“Yes, I know,” Vanity said with pride. “Anyway, I hired the PI to find you.” With satisfaction, she added, “He found you with Whitney. He heard everything. He’s with Whitney now, keeping tabs on her.”
Phil’s breathing was so audible, Stack could hear it even through the call. He sounded desperate, and that made Stack desperate, too.
Finally Phil said, “I don’t believe you.”
Stack would agree, except in a twisted, illogical way, it made sense. Now Vanity just needed to convince Phil, to keep control of the scene.
To protect herself until he got there.
“Stay,” Vanity cajoled. “Stay and I’ll tell the cops everything I know. They’ll understand that Whitney conspired a lot of this. Stay, and I’ll give you the two grand to start over. But you have to talk to the cops, you have to tell them what you know.”
She wanted Phil to help indict Whitney? Stack couldn’t imagine Phil being a credible witness, but the PI she’d hired...yeah, that guy was going to come in handy.
In the middle of the turmoil, Stack felt pride. She was, by far, the most amazing person he’d ever known.
“Seriously, Vanity?” A different emotion influenced Phil’s tone. “You’d do that for me?”
Uncertainty now sounded in hers. “Oh, um...yes. Yes, I would. To help Stack. Not to—”
“We’ve gotten along, haven’t we?”
“No! I’ve tolerated you, Phil. That’s all.”
“You like me, I can tell. We clicked, didn’t we?”
Just as Phil’s voice went husky, Vanity’s went shrill. “What are you doing? Get away from me!”
Stack screeched up to the curb, threw the car in Park, and jumped out running. He reached the glass door in time to see Phil corner Vanity. The bastard had one hand clamped on her arm, the other knotted in her long hair, and he was trying to kiss her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IN A MURDEROUS RAGE, Stack stormed in...and saw Vanity bring her knee up to Phil’s jewels. A direct hit. For that one second in time before the pain set in, Phil gaped at her and his hands loosened.
But Vanity wasn’t done. As she’d been taught in the self-defense classes, she used the heel of her hand to bash Phil’s nose. Hands to his balls, his head knocked back, and Phil staggered.
When blood sprayed, Vanity recoiled. “Eewww...”
Phil dropped to his knees.
Stalking in, Stack immediately drew him back up and slammed him against the wall. “You dared to touch her?” He slammed Phil again. “You miserable—”
“Stack!”
He stilled. Not Vanity’s voice, but his sister’s.
Groaning, Stack looked over his shoulder and there stood Tabby, her eyes flared, her mouth pinched.
She was going to be so badly hurt by all this.
Then he glanced at Vanity. She watched him warily, her eyes still red, her lips trembling. She’d been hurt, too.
By him.
Time for him to start mending things, instead of wrecking them. Opening his fingers, Stack released Phil and let him slump down the wall to the floor. One deep breath, then another, and he thought he just might be able to speak coherently.
“He had his hand in his pocket,” Vanity warned. “I don’t know—”
“Got it.” Stack knelt down, frisked Phil and found a bag of pills but no weapons. Shit. He shoved Phil’s face up, and only then did he realize Phil wasn’t all there. “What did you take?”
“Don’t know,” he slurred. “I just needed...something.”
“Courage?” Disgusted, Stack stood and tossed the pills on the countertop. His gaze met Vanity’s.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
And, yeah, that totally blew his cool all over.
Emotions combustible, he reached her in one long stride, drew her in, pressed her head to his shoulder while he gently hugged her. “You’re okay?”
“Yes.” She remained tense in his arms. “You heard everything?”
Over and over, he smoothed his hands along her back. “Yeah. Smart move, leaving the call open like that.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
Stack lightly kissed her. “You’re unsure about a lot of things, I know.”
Tabby elevated her tone in demand. “What is going on?”
Keeping Vanity close—something she didn’t object to—Stack turned to face Phil. “We thought he was the one hiring goons to come after me, but it was only Phil the first time. After that, it was Whitney calling the shots.”
Exasperated, Tabby rushed over to Phil with a handful of tissues. “I told you Phil wouldn’t do that.” She pressed the tissues to his nose as she took his arm, helping him to stand. “You’re okay?”
Phil nodded, his cagey, bleary gaze on Vanity and Stack.
Stack was about to explain when Tabby gave them both a fierce scowl. “If it was Whitney, then why did you slug Phil?”
“Vanity did that,” Stack said, unable to contain his smile. “Not me.”
Vanity elbowed him, grumbling under her breath.
Brows going high, Tabby asked, “Why?”
Stabbing Phil with renewed anger, Stack growled, “He tried to kiss her.”
“He...” Tabby’s voice trailed off as she swelled with her own measure of anger. Slowly, she pivoted back to Phil. “You...you...” Then she slugged him, too. Her punch wasn’t as direct, more like a wild haymaker catching Phil in the ear. He cowered, arms up, while Tabby kept swinging.
Pleased with his sister’s reaction, Stack went to her, dodged a few flying fists, and corralled her by hugging her arms down to her sides. “Cops are on the way, sis. You don’t want to be bludgeoning him when they show up.”
Kicking out, Tabby said, “I’ll do more than bludgeon him. I’ll—”
The door opened again, and in stepped Detective Reese Bareden, one of Cannon’s cop friends. At six and a half feet tall, the detective made an imposing figure. But at the moment, he only appeared curious as he looked around at each and every person.
“Armie called,” the detective explained. “Said there was a life-and-death situation. So, tell me, who’s killing whom?”
Vanity rushed into explanations while Tabby slapped away from Stack’s hold. She straightene
d her clothes, smoothed her hair, and hitched her purse up to her shoulder.
“Okay now?” Stack asked her. He knew his sister could be unpredictable.
“Yes.” She flounced away from Phil and went to stand by Vanity, silently backing her—and in the process, filling Stack with yet more pride.
While still trying to explain to the detective, Vanity also tried comforting Tabby, and damned if that didn’t make Stack smile, too. She kept him on a roller coaster of reactions but always, at the base, was love. He felt that now, an overload of it, settling the panic, soothing the anger, and ramping up the physical need.
He knew what he wanted to do; he knew he needed Vanity forever.
A second later a car pulled up to the curb across the street. Leese, Cannon and Armie all piled out.
Without missing a beat, Vanity gave Tabby one last pat, went to the door to hold it open for the guys, and then flipped over the Open sign to Closed.
To the detective, she said, “I can call my PI right now. I know it’s a bother, and I’m sorry, but I really think you need to pick up Whitney. Especially since she had another attack planned against Stack tonight.”
Phil groaned loudly. “She was going to blame me for that, too. I just know it.”
Tabby threw a paperweight at Phil. “You deserve to rot in jail, you cretin!”
Phil cried out, his arms over his head. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“You idiot, it’s mostly your fault!”
Detective Bareden snatched a stapler from Tabby’s hands. “Ma’am, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Sighing, Stack said, “Reese, my sister. Tabby, Detective Reese Bareden.”
“Oh, right.” Tabby stopped trying to reach for the pencil cup.
After eyeing her to make sure she didn’t go after another projectile, Reese smiled at Vanity. “You know, I do believe I should make that call. If you could share the PI’s number, I’ll get in touch with him right now.”
While Vanity took care of that, Stack went to stand over Phil, once again slouched down to sit on the floor. He looked cornered, a bloody mess and very afraid. “You’re lucky Vanity hit you before I could.”
One hand to his nose, the other cupped over his junk, Phil said, “Don’t feel all that lucky.”
True. Vanity had held her own, and he was so impressed with her, he couldn’t wait to get her alone. “If I had hit you, it’d be far, far worse.”
“I know.”
“You’re doubly lucky my sister showed up when she did.”
Phil slanted a look at Tabby, his gaze hopeful, speculative.
Not a chance. “You’ll stay away from her.”
“But—”
Squatting down before Phil, Stack repeated low, “You’re done using my family. Stay away from Vanity, stay away from my mother and stay the hell away from my sister.”
Phil quailed, ducking his face to the side.
Tabby touched Stack’s shoulder. “If he crawled on bloody knees, I wouldn’t have him.” She, too, crouched down. “I’m done, Phil. Do you understand me?”
He nodded.
“You’ve cleaned out our accounts. You got your clothes. That’s it. You can keep it all. The only thing I need from you is contact info, so the divorce papers can be delivered.”
“I... I don’t have any place to go.”
Reese covered the phone and said, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to help you with that.”
Tabby nodded. “Perfect.” Giving Stack a pat, she stood again.
A uniformed cop approached. “Let’s go.”
Phil’s eyes widened. “But...they already told the detective. I didn’t do anything!”
Reese strode over. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Either way, you’re coming to the station to answer questions. Until I have this sorted out, you’re under arrest.”
It took a little longer before the police left, the drugs confiscated and Phil in handcuffs. When Stack rejoined Vanity, he saw that Denver and Cannon were both on their cells.
Amused, he asked Vanity, “Checking in with their ladies?”
She nodded. “Yes.” With a look at Armie, she softly added, “And he got a message.”
Over Armie’s shoulder, Stack saw the screen of Armie’s cell.
Rissy was here.
Armie looked painfully undecided as to whether or not he’d text her back. In the end, Stack would bet on Rissy.
Needing to be alone with Vanity, he said, “You guys should go. Everything is under control now. Reese spoke with Vanity’s PI, and he said they’ll be picking up Whitney and charging her with conspiracy to commit a felony.”
Vanity nodded. “Jack, my PI, overheard when and where Whitney arranged the next attack, so the officers will be watching. If things go off as planned, they’ll arrest those men who, most likely, will share what they know about Whitney.”
“And knowing Phil,” Tabby added, “he’ll be volunteering as many details as he can, especially if it’ll help save his own butt.”
Stack ruffled his sister’s hair, and when she glared at him, he grinned and helped her smooth it back. Crazy as it seemed, he knew he’d missed her.
Thanks to Vanity, he was now reunited with his family. And just in time, considering there’d soon be a baby in the mix.
“Wow,” Leese told Vanity. “You wrapped it all up nice and tight. Impressive.”
Vanity blushed. “Not me. I just hired the investigator.”
“A smart move,” Cannon said. “If you hadn’t, eventually Whitney might’ve gotten lucky.”
“No,” she protested, then took a deep breath. “Stack would never have let that happen.”
He slipped his arm around her; her faith in him was humbling.
“Besides,” she continued, “I don’t think Whitney really wanted to hurt Stack.” With a droll look at Stack, she added, “I think she wanted to create a situation where she could get back on his good side—meaning in his bed.”
“And if he got beat up in the process...?” Leese asked.
“He wouldn’t.” Again Vanity glanced at him. “Stack can take care of himself.”
Drawing her away from Stack, Armie enfolded her in a big bear hug. “Thanks to you, he doesn’t have to, does he, Vee? Not when you’re taking such good care of him.”
Stack grinned and said, “True enough.”
Quietly overwhelmed, Vanity accepted hugs from each of the guys. After Leese embraced her, Stack clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
Leese nodded. “’Bout time you wised up.”
“Also true.”
Vanity frowned at each of them. “What are you guys talking about?”
“It’s getting late.” They had a lot to get straightened out, and Stack knew it’d be easier without an audience. “I’ll help Vanity close up, and then we’ll head home.”
Vanity turned to stare at him.
“Your home.” Brushing his knuckles over her cheek, he smiled. “If that’s okay?”
She breathed a little faster. “Yes.”
Damn, he loved her. “Good, because I need plenty of time to apologize.”
Turning in a rush, she opened the door and tried to hurry everyone out.
Laughing, teasing her, treating her like a little sister, the guys finally left.
Now he just needed to get his sister on her way. “You need a ride?” Stack asked her.
“Nope. I have this awesome little brother who bought me a car that I stupidly let my soon-to-be ex-husband drive, but no more.”
Vanity laughed.
“So.” Tabby eyed them both, and the sternness of her expression sobered Vanity. “I heard this very nasty rumor that you two had called it quits. And I have to say, if that’s true, if Stack is an idiot,
well, Mom and I are keeping Vanity anyway.”
Stack rolled his eyes. “Tabby, you know I’m not an idiot.”
“If you walk away from Vanity, then you are.”
“That would make me the biggest idiot alive.”
“But...” Confused, Vanity started to speak to Tabby, then to Stack, then her brows came down, and she tightened her shoulders. “You were furious with me! You accused me of lying.”
Gently, Stack said, “You did lie.”
“Only about loving you.”
Tabby used both hands to make a “time out” gesture, then rounded on Vanity. “Are you telling me you don’t love my brother?”
“Of course I do. I always have. But he—” she straightened her arm to point at Stack “—wasn’t interested. So I had to pretend that I didn’t love him. I had to make him think all I wanted was... I...um...” She turned big eyes on Stack.
He smiled at her. “You want to finish that? No? Okay, I can pick up the slack.”
“Stack!”
“She’s family, honey. We don’t keep secrets from family.”
Vanity flushed again. Did she understand that she was family, as well? If not, Stack would soon make it crystal clear to her. He turned to his sister. “Vanity pretended we were having a casual hookup, so that I wouldn’t get spooked.”
“Yeah, right.” Tabby didn’t buy it. “That’s hardly a reason to get bent out of shape.”
Vanity bit her lip, her expression so guilty that it pained Stack.
Softer, with more gravity, he explained, “She also gave Phil money without ever telling me about it.”
“Oh, crap.” Wide-eyed, Tabby stared at Stack. “You thought Phil used that money to hire the thugs?”
“No. I already knew he hadn’t.” Hoping it wouldn’t upset his sister too much, Stack explained what had happened, and how Phil had spent the money. “I got rid of the gun. I didn’t want Phil to have it, and I didn’t think you’d want it left in the apartment.”
Tabby nodded, distressed, but taking it better than Stack had expected.
“I was trying to help,” Vanity whispered.
“Because she loves me.” Damn it felt good to acknowledge it, to say it out loud.