After they were pronounced legally and lawfully wed, Liam made his way around the room, accepting congratulations with a hearty handshake and a slap on the back. David moved in front of Kiera, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. “Welcome to the family,” he said in such a low voice Kiera had to lean closer to hear.
David smelled like exotic locations where spices were sold in open-air markets, the night sky was unpolluted with artificial lights making stars the main attraction, and where men pledged their lives and undying love to mysterious beauties. Being near him made her want to sway her hips when she walked and wear skirts made from flowing material that brushed her ankles.
Looking into David’s aqua eyes was a totally unique and unsettling experience. His gaze held the power to strip away the armored layers around her heart and expose her very core. David was dangerous.
Liam came back to her, dropping kisses on both cheeks and rocking her in his embrace. Kiera couldn’t help but catch his happy wave and ride along with him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. Her gaze darted to David with his edgy aura and back again. Kiera was grateful she married the safe brother.
After a quick photo session in front of the BMB logo, Kiera, Liam, and David rode the elevator together. The small space filled with the tantalizing smell of designer cologne, crisp aftershave, and men. Working hard to ignore the ooey-gooey sensation in her lower belly, Kiera studied the floor.
The metal doors opened, and they stepped into the lobby. “Where to?” Kiera had been picked up by a BMB town car for the ceremony. She’d been so consumed by the wedding that she hadn’t given any thought to where they would go after.
“I feel like ice cream—no.” Liam perked up. “Gelato. Real gelato.”
“What? Like now?” Kiera checked her upgraded BMB phone. It was eleven, and with her nerves at DEFCON five, eating was not a good idea. “Maybe I could unpack, and then we could eat.” She indicated the two black suitcases waiting right where she’d left them at the security desk.
“No unpacking. We have a plane to catch.” Liam went to pick up a suitcase. David was beside him in a flash, taking both of them as if they were loaves of bread. Kiera hadn’t packed light, and she was impressed with his strength. Liam looked up as if David exasperated him before taking off at a trot.
Hurrying to keep up, Kiera lengthened her stride. “Did you say plane?”
“Well, sure. How else are we supposed to get Italian gelato?” Liam ducked into the back of a waiting limo.
Kiera stayed on the curb, staring after Liam and working to process his announcement. “We’re flying to Italy? Now?”
David cupped her elbow, sending a jolt of electricity dancing across her skin. “Welcome to life with Liam.” He looked to where his hand held her arm as if he were holding a Fabergé egg, and he stepped away. He didn’t look back as he climbed into the car.
Liam poked his head out of the car. “Come on, princess. You don’t want to miss our honeymoon, do you?”
“I …” Kiera ran her hand through her hair. Liam may be kind, but what kind of a person flies to Italy for a gelato craving? “I married a five-year-old,” she muttered.
Then again, if she had a billion dollars, what would she do? She’d spent so long focused on getting through the next month, making the next payment, keeping her nose to that grindstone, that she hadn’t looked up to the future. Daydreaming had lost its allure. As she worked on her own to pay the debt, a life of servitude stretched ahead. Now, with a fresh bride deposit clearing her account, she was ahead of the creditors, and she felt good, free, lighter than she had in years. Her gaze went to the end of the street, and she took a cleansing breath. Climbing into the car, she settled in the seat next to Liam and across from David.
Liam’s eyes lit up. “I knew you couldn’t resist an adventure.”
“I can resist adventure,” she countered. “It’s gelato I can’t pass up.”
“Ha! We’re cut from the same cloth.” He waved his hand back and forth between them.
“Heaven help me.” David dropped his face into his hands. “There are two of them.”
5
Knowing the caliber of clients Pamela entertained, Kiera wasn’t at all shocked to find a private plane waiting for them at a small airport outside of LA. The limo pulled right onto the tarmac, stopping a mere ten feet from the stairs. Her bags were whisked aboard by an attendant in black slacks and a forest-green polo shirt. Several men and women in the same uniform swarmed the aircraft, and a large fuel truck was tucked under one wing. A tube, like an industrial umbilical cord, stretched up to the fuel dock. Two flight attendants in matching navy pencil skirts, crisp white blouses, and hot pink lipstick waited at the top of the stairs, their smiles bright, white, and professional.
Liam climbed out behind her and leaned against the open door, a concerned twist to his brow. He’d been lighthearted and quick to smile during the drive and Kiera had felt comfortable with his arm behind her.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t like flying?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
Kiera stepped back.
“I’m sorry.” Liam took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I have a headache. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s fine.” Kiera moved ahead to put some space between them. She’d been okay with happy Liam, but she didn’t like the mood swing. Perhaps he did just have a headache, but his behavior bore watching. Despite the calmness she felt with his touch, she couldn’t afford to let her guard down.
They climbed the stairs and were greeted by the pilot, a man in his fifties who looked like he could use some fattening up. David held back to inform the pilot of their plans while Liam showed Kiera the plane.
Two bedrooms huddled side by side in the back of the aircraft. One was done in chrome and black leather—such guy decor. The other was done in a welcoming combination of navy blue, white, and lighter wood. They each had a private bathroom, complete with a pulsating shower head.
Just off the bedrooms were a sitting area; a large flat-screen; three overstuffed leather loveseats, two of them facing each other; and a few soft lamps. Beyond that was a kitchen and bar and another bathroom.
Staff members hurried here and there, working hard to stay out of Liam and Kiera’s way during the tour. “Excuse me, sir. If you’ll approve the menu, I can sign off on the food,” said a woman whose nametag read Kinzie.
Liam took the sheet and read over it. “Will you find me some pills, Kinzie?”
“Yes, Mr. Bernhard. Anything specific?”
“I have one of my headaches.”
“Okay, sir.”
Kiera cringed at the exchange. Pills? Coupled with Liam’s over exuberance during the ceremony and his crash in the car, Kiera didn’t like the picture Liam painted.
“Would you like to change clothes before we lift off?” asked a woman dressed in a black pantsuit.
Kiera jolted from her suspicions. Not feeling needed at the moment, and looking forward to taking off her dress, she replied, “Yes, thank you.”
The woman introduced herself as Ella, Mr. Bernhard’s personal assistant.
Ella took her to the chrome-and-black master bedroom. Kiera stared at the king-size bed, so out of place on an airplane, and yet it fit right in with Liam. She wondered what his house was like. I’ll bet there’s a fireman’s pole from his room to the kitchen and a slide off the deck.
After changing into a pair of black leggings, a fitted purple shirt, and an oversized fluffy cardigan, Kiera dug out her essentials bag and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The bag had small containers of shampoo and conditioner, but she couldn’t find her toothpaste.
She debated borrowing some from Liam and opened a drawer. Not finding the toothpaste, she blinked at the number of prescription medications that rattled with the movement. Shutting the drawer, Kiera opened the medicine cabinet to find another stash of orange bottles. She squinted to read the labels. “Fentanyl. Methadone. Oxycodone. P
ainkillers. Painkillers. Painkillers.” She shut the door and stepped back. There were enough meds on this plane to host a rager.
Kiera put her hand over her mouth. Is that how they made their money? Had she married a drug trafficker? Forget brushing her teeth; she had to get off this plane.
A vibration started under her bare feet. Kiera stared at the floor for a moment before realizing they were taxiing down the runway. Running as fast as she could, she stubbed her toe on the bed. Grunting against the pain, she wrenched the door open.
Ella was waiting for her. “You’ll need to take a seat for takeoff.”
“But I—” Kiera gestured towards the bathroom.
“I can secure your belongings, Mrs. Bernhard.” Ella directed Kiera to a seat across from David and next to Liam, who was looking a little worse for wear. David nodded her direction before going back to the laptop open on his lap. The engines picked up speed and Kiera’s stomach dropped as they left the earth. For the time being, she was trapped. Trapped on the plane and trapped in this marriage. This cannot be happening—again! Kiera scooted to the far edge of the couch and hugged the arm. Please, dear Lord, help me find a way out of this.
Not long after the pilot announced their cruising speed and altitude, Kinzie delivered a small cup with some pills and a soda to Liam. He took both with a thank-you, swallowed the pills, and handed the rest of the soda back to Kinzie.
Kiera watched the whole thing with wide-eyed terror. She checked David to see if he had anything to say about his brother downing major prescriptions right in front of them, but David’s eyes stayed locked on his computer screen.
Fifteen minutes later, Liam’s head rolled to the side and he breathed deeply. Kiera relaxed, seeing the childlike way he curled up against the armrest. Whatever he’d taken had put him out. Kiera worked with several patients who had become addicted to prescription painkillers. It was awful for them, and they were often embarrassed. Still, she’d never seen an assortment of meds like the one in Liam’s bathroom. He had a problem, and was most likely sharing if he carried that much with him on his travels. Her fear abated for the moment, Kiera asked Kinzie for a blanket. When she arrived, Kiera draped it over Liam’s sleeping form.
“He won’t notice,” said David, his eyes never lifting.
Kiera brushed her hand over Liam’s forehead, checking his breathing. He seemed to be fine and showed no signs of an overdose. “Then he won’t be upset.”
David turned his piercing gaze on her. “Why would you worry about upsetting him?”
Kiera shrugged. Sitting on the edge of her seat, she tucked her hands between her knees. “Habit, I guess. I was always worried about upsetting my first husband.”
David met her gaze. “Did he hurt you?”
Kiera turned away.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
She didn’t have to tell him, but she could hear the hope in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You can trust me,” he said in a low and inviting tone.
Kiera snorted. “Trust drug dealers, right.” Slapping her hand over her mouth, Kiera wondered if those would be her last words.
Instead of jumping across the aisle to strangle the life out of her or telling Ella to throw her out the open door, David jerked back as if she’d slapped him “Drug dealers?” He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it in an attractive, just-rolled-out-of-bed way. “You’re joking, right?”
Not pleased that he thought her dumb enough to fall for his pretended innocence, Kiera said, “Do you guys host parties or just hoard the stuff for your personal use?”
David leaned forward, his eyes taking on a hard edge. “That’s not funny.”
Kiera opened and closed her mouth. She’d been so worried about the type of man she married that she hadn’t given much thought to being alone with his brother. Terror spiked through her arms and chest, immobilizing her limbs. Jack had been bad enough, and there was one of him—now she had two men to deal with.
“Don’t ever joke about Liam’s sickness to me again.” Shoving to his feet, David stormed into the kitchen, where he pulled a plate from the cupboard and threw it to the ground, where it shattered. “He.” Crash. “Can’t.” Crash. “Die.”
He reached for another and Kiera threw her arms over her head. One … two … three … four more plates, none of them coming anywhere near her … but the sound horrible, like hope and dreams and life splintering into a billion pieces in one violent stroke.
When the racket stopped, she lowered her arms to find David breathing heavy, his chin to his chest and his feet littered with white shards. He looked up, anguish blotched across his face. “Liam may have come to terms with dying, but I’m not ready to lose my brother.” With that, he went into the smaller bedroom and shut the door.
Kiera turned to stare at her husband. Dying? Who said anything about dying? Liam was the picture of health, or so she’d thought. Reevaluating his prominent cheekbones, the bags under his eyes, and his exhaustion, she saw a patient. He could have been any one of the dozens of people she worked with who were fighting for their lives. She raced to the bathroom and inspected the medications, recognizing several of them from work and her mother’s treatment.
Cancer.
The very word carried a knapsack of emotions, emotions Kiera had stuffed so deep she thought she’d never see them again. Yet here they were, wiggling their way free and demanding to be looked at and paid attention to and felt. Unable to stem the massive flood, Kiera cried. She cried without restriction, knowing that she could have lost her mom. All those fears of being orphaned and alone in the world were scary. Leaning against the glass shower door, she slid to the floor. Drained as she was, Kiera wasn’t done. She continued to sob, this time for the patients she saw every day, for their families who loved them and tenderly cared for them. Finally, she cried for Liam, who was so full of life it burst out of him like sunshine.
Her husband was dying.
David appeared in the doorway. Without a word, he scooped her up into his nicely shaped arms, as if she were a mere waif of a woman, and set her on her feet. The physical closeness was over fast enough to remain proper, and yet the sensations left behind lingered like the sweet scent of summer.
“I’m sorry.” He patted her shoulder. “I thought you knew.”
Kiera shook her head. “When Pamela recruited me, she said something about private nursing.” Kiera stifled a sob with her palm. “I didn’t connect the dots.”
“It’s okay.” David pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
The designer cologne and aftershave smell was fainter than it had been in the elevator, but being this close to David, the scent had a stronger effect. His arms were large enough to envelop her. She tipped her head up and met his troubled expression with one of her own. “I’m okay.”
“Good.” His eyes dropped to her lips.
Alarmed at the vibe she was getting, Kiera placed her hands on David’s very nice and very firm chest, pushing him away. “Are you okay?”
“I may never be okay again.” He dropped his hands to his side.
“No, I don’t suppose you would be.” She looked around, unable to watch David’s suffering. “What can I do?” she asked.
David yanked open a drawer, the medication bottles rattling. “Whatever he asks. Within reason,” he added.
Kiera placed her hand on David’s arm, and the air charged between them. “I’d like to look over his treatment plan and medical history.”
“There isn’t one. He got the diagnosis and opted to let it take its course.”
“No chemo?”
“There wasn’t a point.”
Kiera chewed her lip. “How long does he have?”
“Three months, tops.”
Kiera slumped against the counter. “He’s so positive.”
David chuckled. “He’s determined to do everything he wants before he … goes.”
“Hence Italian gelato.”
David picked up her left hand and ran his thumb over the ring resting on her third finger. Kiera shivered at his touch. “Hence you,” he said.
Kiera moistened her lips. “Well then, we’ll just have to do all sorts of amazing things with him before … then.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Kiera grinned. “With Liam’s money, a private plane, and some time, I think I can come up with a few ideas.”
For the first time since she’d met him, David smiled. The transformation was intoxicating to observe. The skin around his eyes wrinkled right up to his bad-boy haircut. His lips, neither too big, nor too small—what was she, Goldilocks?—spread to reveal straight teeth, and the cleft in his chin deepened. “I look forward to it,” he said, his voice husky and implying he’d like to look forward to a lot more than a few fun outings.
6
Liam closed his eyes and memorized the sound of Kiera’s laughter. If he were a poet, which he most definitely was not, then he could describe the sound with musical words. Better yet, if he were an artist, he could paint her laugh so the whole world could see it at a glance. Except Liam wanted to keep the beauty of Kiera all to himself. He could fold her up like an origami swan and tuck her next to his heart forever. Despite their short time as man and wife, most of which he’d spent sleeping, the arrangement was as natural as his brotherhood with David or his childhood with his parents. Kiera was family.
Despite what his brother thought, Liam had prayed and pondered his marriage long before his actual wedding date. He’d always wanted to be a husband and a father. Dating with the intent to marry took time—and time was something he didn’t have. Finding a “Kiera” would have been impossible on his own, since he was dying and all. The remaining option was Pamela Jones. The more he’d looked into her services, the more he appreciated Pamela’s professional approach to marriage mingled with a touch of pixie dust. He may never forget the look in her eyes when he walked into her office for the first time—like she knew something he didn’t.
The Resilient Bride Page 3