The Rogue

by J. R. Ward

  Spike shuddered and refocused on Mad.

  She was entering the clubhouse now, and as the door shut behind her, he realized his life had changed yet again. One door opening, twelve years ago in that run-down apartment; one door closing at this very moment, in a ritzy private club.

  Neither event was significant on the surface; doors were used every day, passed through every day.

  Some, though, some turned you into something else…or in this case, kept you right where you were. On some very basic level, Spike realized his future was going to be nothing more than decades of his present: A lonely stretch, made lonelier now because he’d had a glimpse of what together might have been like.

  After a long while, he went around the clubhouse, walked out to the parking lot and got on his Harley.

  Doing the whole ride back to the Adirondacks would be tough this late, but he could get a head start. Or maybe he would just drive through the night. His arm was aching, but he didn’t care. Nothing could reach him right now. Nothing.

  And his numbness gave him a strange, troubling kind of invincibility.

  As he started Bette, the first raindrop fell.

  * * *

  Mad’s knees were loose as nylon ropes as she walked into the clubhouse. After she picked up her package from the front desk, she went upstairs to the ladies’ lounge. The large airy space was done in the club colors of red and white and it usually cheered her. But not now.

  When she dropped her duffel from her shoulder, she didn’t hear it hit the floor, but she was careful with the FedEx box, setting it down right next to her bag. Taking a deep breath, she went over to the bank of sinks and washed her face. With water dripping off her chin, she grabbed a white towel with the N.E.Y.C. insignia on it and draped it over her entire head.

  Six weeks…six weeks she’d spent thinking about Spike and running through that morning at the Greenwich house over and over again, seeing him reach out for Amelia, hearing him say, You’re the one.

  Mad was desperate for some way she might have misconstrued the situation and this was dangerous, like reading the wind when you were out at sea racing and badly behind. The peril in looking too hard was that you would invariably convince yourself that what you wanted to find was out there. When it really wasn’t.

  She thought of Spike in all that leather just now. He’d said he only wore the supple armor if he was traveling long distances. So obviously he’d come all the way down to Rhode Island to see her. Why had he—

  He’d wanted to find out whether she was pregnant. That was the why.

  And she truly wasn’t. She’d wondered about the same thing and had taken a test right before she’d left the Bahamas. It had been hell to do, so hard for her that her hands shook the whole time. But the really sick part of those minutes when she’d stood over the sink, checking her watch and looking at the stick, was that part of her wanted to be. Which was flat-out insane. She couldn’t possibly handle being a single mother, which was what she would be; Spike being in her life was not healthy for her—not that he’d offered anyway.

  And then it was all a moot point. The test had been negative.

  As Mad glanced down at herself, she saw that her hand was on her lower belly and the yearning in the gesture was tragic, frustrating.

  Great. Terrific. Her biological clock was still kicking in.

  Except it wasn’t really hormones, was it? No, it was the image of a little baby with black hair and yellow eyes, and how lousy was that? It was utterly self-destructive to want to carry the child of a man who had played her.

  A crack of lightning lanced through the sky and the boom that followed was sonic. As rain started to fall, she looked at her watch. Driving to Manhattan didn’t appeal, not in a storm, not this late. It was far better for her to find a B&B in town and leave first thing in the morning.

  Mad shouldered the duffel again, picked up the FedEx box and left the lounge. She knew what was inside the overnight delivery: the materials for the board meeting. Going by how heavy the thing was, she knew there was a lot, but she had every intention of going through each page until she’d memorized what was on it. She might not have a background in big business, but Mick Rhodes had said she could call him anytime with questions and she was sure Sean would be willing to help, too.

  Mad left the clubhouse, not feeling up to dealing with the boys in the bar, and jogged out through the downpour to the garages beyond the parking lot. While she’d been away, the Viper had been housed in one of the rentable car stalls, and the engine fired up so fast, it was like the thing wanted out.

  Crouching over the wheel, she headed into town, wipers slapping madly yet losing the battle against the deluge. Thunder crashed above her, all around her.

  The tears came slowly at first. But by the time she pulled around to the back of the Lancet Bed and Breakfast, she was weeping openly.

  As she sobbed, she realized why she was having a meltdown here and now. This moment in her car was the first time she’d been alone since she reunited with the crew.

  While the storm raged, she let herself go and cried until she had nothing left.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Spike was soaked to the bone by the time he walked through the front door of the Lancet B and B. He’d gone over the bridge to Rhode Island proper, made it maybe five minutes in the storm and realized he was crazy. He turned and went back to Newport because he knew for sure where he could find a place to stay.

  The Lancet House was an historic landmark, a rambler of an old mansion with ten guest rooms and a nice kitchen. Needless to say, the B and B was a huge step up from where he’d slept when he’d cooked summers at the New England Yacht Club—back in the day, he’d crashed on couches, assuming he’d slept at all.

  The room he was given for tonight was small, but it was dry and luxurious. He peeled off his leathers, stripped the rest of himself bare and hit the shower. Ten minutes later he was down in the house’s dining room, sampling a buffet dinner with the other guests.

  As he sat down and tucked into some roast beef, he felt a kind of isolation no crowd could cure. In fact, he was so removed from everyone, he felt as if he were watching a movie about people eating their dinners and talking to each other. In black and white.

  Except suddenly some kind of ripple went through his body. He looked up.

  From across the way, through doorways and archways, around the moving bodies of other guests, he saw Mad come in the front door. Her hair was damp, water was dripping off her duffel bag and she looked wretched. As she checked in, she seemed unaware of her surroundings, and when she went up the stairs, it was as if in a total daze.

  Heart in his throat, Spike waited and waited for her to come down, until all the other guests in the dining room had finished eating and had drifted out to whatever their evenings held.

  As a rolling growl of thunder permeated the mansion, it was clear the arrival of another storm was imminent.

  He looked out the window to his left and sipped his cold coffee.

  He was willing to bet Mad hadn’t eaten anything at the club.

  But that was none of his business, he reminded himself.

  “Are you finished with the buffet?” a waiter asked. “Because we’d like to put it away now.”

  Spike glanced up at the guy. “Ah…yeah. I’m finished with it.”

  * * *

  Mad eased back against the pillows and stretched her legs out. It was always disorienting to lie on an unmoving bed after having bunked it on the ocean for a couple of days. But man, it was good. And the superhot shower she’d taken had also done wonders. It was a guilty pleasure to just stand under the spray until her fingers pruned up and her feet turned bright pink.

  Now, lying down in a terry-cloth robe marked with the Lancet’s insignia, she felt a little stronger, provided she didn’t think too much about the accommodations. Her room was lovely. Romantic. Perfect for a weekend spent indoors. With its antique four-poster bed and its marble fireplace, she imagined many c
ouples had found or rekindled passion here.

  Not wanting to think about that kind of thing, she dragged the FedEx box onto her lap and ripped it open. Inside were three spiral-bound books of financial statements, memoranda and graphs.

  She opened the book marked 1 of 3, figuring she might as well start at the top and hoping there was some logic to the order. The first page was an agenda and she skimmed the issues. Approval of the minutes of the previous meeting. Election of officers. Financial report for the fourth quarter. Summary of performance for the prior fiscal year. Acquisition of Organi-Foods Corporation.

  Whoa. She knew that name. Those stores were everywhere.

  She flipped through the books until she got to the tab marked Acquisition Proposal. When she was finished reading the memo from Richard to the board, everything about his fight to keep her shares fell into place. If he retained voting rights over her block of ownership, he could push through stuff like this acquisition with no problem because, in effect, he was the majority shareholder times a thousand.

  No wonder he’d wanted to remain executor of her trust. Now, he’d have to convince her to get anything done.

  That must have been what all the phone calls from him were about.

  She heard a knock at the door and lifted her head. “Yes?”

  “I brought you dinner.”

  The muffled sound of Spike’s voice had her sitting up with a jerk.

  “I can leave it out here in the hall,” he said quietly. “If you’d feel more comfortable that way.”

  She sprang off the bed, straightened the robe she had on and opened the door.

  “I don’t want—” But she couldn’t quite finish the sentence. He was so broad, filling the jambs, his black T-shirt stretched over that chest she knew too well.

  Damn it…The distraction of his body disgusted her. Didn’t she have willpower? Common sense?

  And what had happened to his forearm? There was a big white bandage all the way around it.

  Not her concern, she told herself. And neither was the rest of him.

  She kicked up her chin. “I didn’t know you were staying here.”

  “Or you would have gone somewhere else, right?” When she didn’t reply, annoyance flickered over his face, tightening his mouth. “Do you honestly think I’m a threat to you? Just because I’m across the hall?”

  She frowned, thinking that was a weird choice of words. “Of course not.”

  Well, not a physical one anyway.

  “Good,” he muttered. “So prove it. Invite me in and eat what I brought you.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Hungry? Oh, right, I forgot, you’re Super Woman. Capable of going for days on nothing but air.” As she opened her mouth to tell him off, he cursed and dropped his glowing eyes. “I’m sorry…I take that back. Look, here’s the food if you want it.”

  He held the plate out to her and for some reason she took it. “Thank you,” she said. And then hesitated.

  “Invite me in, Mad,” he said softly. “Please. I’m not looking for sex or anything like that. I just want to explain some things. I want to tell you what happened and why.”

  Do not let him in, she thought. Do not—

  God help her, she backed away from the door and left it open. He shut the thing silently as he came forward.

  She sat on the bed, put the plate in her lap and unrolled the napkin full of silverware. He was right, she wouldn’t have eaten and she wasn’t sure she wanted to now. Her stomach was in a knot, but she needed to do something with her hands.

  While she tried some of the roast beef, she tracked him as he went over to one of the windows across the room. In the silence, she despised the fact that she was hoping and praying he would come up with an excuse she could buy.

  Frustrated with herself, she said, “You don’t have to explain why you were with her. I know the why of it.”

  His head spun around and a frown dragged his brows down over his eyes. “What?”

  “Why you slept with Amelia. I know why. It’s obvious why.”

  Spike reached out for the window, grabbing on to the sash as if steadying himself. “You think I…Where in the hell did you get the idea I was with her?”

  “Come on, Spike—”

  “Why do you think I would do that to you?”

  His intensity was a surprise. “I—Ah, I saw her walking out of your bedroom and you were trying to pull her back in. You were very clear you wanted her.”

  Those yellow eyes stared at her for a long stretch. “Hold up. You left because—”

  “Oh, no, I really wanted to stick around after that. Absolutely.”

  Her sarcasm didn’t seem to affect him at all. “Wait…Richard didn’t talk to you about me?”

  “Why would he have to? Seeing you with my half sister was enough.”

  Spike scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. He seemed to have shocked out for some reason, his eyes going glassy. “Good…God.”

  “Come on, Spike,” she muttered. “Do you think I’d hang around? I’ve been through that twice before. The experience has nothing left to teach me.”

  Which was not exactly true. This time it had hurt worse than the others put together.

  Spike was silent for a moment, then he threw up his hands and shook his head. “I…I don’t know what to say. I guess…enjoy the dinner, Mad. And…whatever. Take care of yourself.”

  He walked to the door like every bone in his body hurt…and as if he were giving something up.

  What the hell was wrong with him? She was the one who’d been betrayed.

  “Why do you think I could handle it?” she said as he gripped the doorknob. “Knowing that after everything we…did together, you went to her?”

  “Yeah, that would be awful,” he snapped. “Just about as bad as your total lack of faith in me.”

  She put the plate aside and got to her feet. “I just cannot believe this. Why are you so ticked off?”

  He wheeled around and faced her. “You don’t think it would be just slightly offensive to be accused of sleeping with your half sister?”

  “But you did, didn’t you? So why—”

  “No. I. Did. Not.” His eyes were blazing. “I have no idea what you saw—”

  “The two of you were in the doorway to your bedroom and you were half naked! She was in a robe!” Mad dropped her voice and tried to stop her body from trembling. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you didn’t want her—”

  “She’s nothing like you,” he hissed.

  “I realize that. And you told her she was the one.”

  Spike opened his mouth. Then shut it so hard his teeth clapped together.

  Mad pushed her hair out of her way and dug her hands into the robe’s pockets so he wouldn’t notice how badly they were shaking.

  “Look—” she cleared her throat “—I…Boy, there’s really nothing more to say, is there?”

  He stared at her for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was eerie. Flat. Deflated. “You are very right about that.”

  And then he left quietly.

  After the door shut, Mad told herself he had a hell of nerve acting like the one who’d been injured.

  She fumed for a while, then went back to the bed and looked at the plate he’d brought her. She had no interest in food.

  But she cursed and picked up the damn fork, remembering the vow she’d made to herself: No more running on caffeine. No more not eating, no matter how much weight she put on. She had promised herself the moment she’d landed in the Bahamas that she would stop the excessive dieting and let her body get back to normal.

  So Mad ate because it was the right thing to do, not because the stuff tasted like anything. And as she chewed and swallowed like a robot, she thought about the argument just now with Spike.

  He’d looked so…defeated as he’d left. And why had he asked if Richard had spoken to her about him? Why would that matter?

  And why had he said he hadn’t slept with Am
elia?

  Spike had never struck her as a liar, but was he just a really good con man? Or was there something totally off about this whole situation?

  Mad tried to go back to reading the board meeting materials, but couldn’t concentrate. She felt as though she were on a boat in high seas: tossed, turned, thrown around. And the real-life storm outside didn’t help. All the lightning and thunder just kept the frantic pace of her heart going.

  Not long thereafter, she gave up. She just couldn’t shake that defeated expression on Spike’s face. And though she was worried about her sanity, she shifted off the bed and went out into the hall to the guest room across from hers. The door was ajar and she heard running water.

  “Spike?”

  “You just missed him if you mean Mr. Moriarty.” The woman from the front desk poked her head out of the bathroom with a smile. “He’s left.”

  Mad’s rib cage tightened up. “I…Ah, where did Spike, I mean Michael, go?”

  “Said he had to head back home.” The woman shrugged. “Was very nice about it. I was going to give him some of his money back but he wouldn’t take it.”

  A gust of wind pushed up against the house and rattled the shutters. Then a rush of rain hit the windows in a splatter pattern, hard as buck shot.

  Oh, God. Spike on that Harley. Going back to the Adirondacks in the dark. In the storm.

  The woman reached behind herself and cut the water off. “Say, I noticed you missed the buffet. Would you like me to bring you up something?”

  “Thank you, but…no. Someone already has.”

  Mad returned to her room. Closed the door. Climbed back up on the bed.

  She told herself it was good that he’d left. She wanted him so badly she was liable to get seduced into thinking what she’d seen with her own two eyes wasn’t true. Hell, maybe the seduction had already happened…. Maybe he was just a really convincing actor and that’s why she was so conflicted now. Because after all, how well did she really know him?