The Rogue

by J. R. Ward

  Jaynie put the hamburger and the milk away and left the bags of chips and the cereal out on the counter. After pouring two tall glasses of lemonade, she headed for her brother.

  Whether he knew it or not, it was time for that man to do some talking.

  Nudging open the screen with her hip, she looked at Spike. He was leaning back in the chair, bare feet up on the railing, eyes fixated on nothing in particular. His jeans were old, torn and baggy. And loose, as if he’d lost weight.

  “It’s hot,” she said, putting a frosted glass in front of him.

  He jerked, his breath going in sharply. “Oh—yeah. Hey, thanks.”

  Jaynie sat down in the plastic chair next to him. She’d never seen him so distracted before and knew it wasn’t frustration that he couldn’t work with that bandaged wrist of his. The poor man hadn’t come home soaking wet at two in the morning the night before because things had gone well with that Madeline woman.

  And Jaynie wanted to know that had happened, but experience had proven that prying would get her nowhere with her brother. The trick with him was to get a conversation going and let him jump in with his own goods when he felt like it. And he usually took the bait, provided she wasn’t direct.

  She took a nice long sip of the icy lemonade and said, “I think I’m going to go look for an office job of some kind.”

  “Transcription stuff not working out?”

  “No, it really isn’t.”

  “So you’re considering staying here for a little while?”

  Yes…as long as she was able. Which wouldn’t be more than a year probably. She was always found, no matter where she went.

  “Maybe,” she replied, “but I need to make more money if I do because I should get a place of my own. I love living with you, but you should have your privacy.”

  He smiled, but the expression didn’t last long. “Got no need for privacy.”

  “Still—”

  “I’d rather you stay with me, how about that?” He frowned. “Are you sure I can’t find you something at White Caps—”

  “I told you, I don’t want favors. But I read in the newspaper that the Algonquin Hotel on Lake George is looking for some seasonal help.”

  Her brother’s eyebrows came crashing down. “That’s like forty minutes away.”

  “The drive isn’t bad.”

  “Jaynie—”

  “I might not get the job anyway. But I’m going to try.”

  He looked at her and seemed to realize she wasn’t budging on this. “Well…let me know if I can help anyway.”

  “I will. And thanks.”

  There was a long silence. And when he cleared his throat, she knew she was going to hear about what was bothering him.

  “It happened today,” he said. “Twelve years ago.”

  Jaynie’s whole body went cold. Twelve years ago…that night when Spike had taken the life of her abuser to save hers. Good Lord, usually she remembered. “Yes…today.”

  Now they were both looking at the view and seeing nothing.

  With stark clarity, she recalled the horrifying series of events that had happened so long ago, reliving them in slow motion. And then she remembered the terrible silence afterward…the silence and the way Spike had looked with blood on his hands and horror in his eyes. Later, the ambulance had come for her and Spike had left the scene in handcuffs.

  “Do you still think about it?” she asked.

  “Not day to day, no. But once a year. Right about this time, yeah, I do.” He glanced over at her. “Do you ever talk about it with anyone?”

  She shook her head. “For a long time it was because I was still so emotional. But then it was because I didn’t trust people. Now…it’s because I don’t have anyone. Well, I haven’t…had anyone.”

  She stopped there, not about to tell him the whole story as to why she was alone.

  Spike shook his head. “You mean, all this time you haven’t dated anyone?”

  Oh, this was so not where she wanted to go. There were things he couldn’t know. “Not really, no. I just haven’t met anyone—”

  “Even after all these years—”

  “Yeah, okay, you’re really making me feel like an old maid here. What about you? Have you spoken about it?”

  He stared into his glass and Jaynie noticed absently that the color of his eyes was almost as yellow as the lemonade. “No. There’s been no one to talk to for me, either.”

  The name Madeline seemed to hang in the air between them.

  “What about that woman you went to see in Newport?” So much for not prying directly.

  Spike took a drink from his glass. “That was a no-go. And man…the ending of it was really whacked. I thought it was because of the prison time I’d done. Turned out she just didn’t trust me at all.”

  “You’re completely trustworthy.”

  “Not in her eyes. And I didn’t even go into the past with her. Hell…if she didn’t have enough faith in me to begin with, no way she’d have been able handle the ex-con thing.” He tilted the lemonade up and swallowed a couple of times, then wiped his mouth with his hand. “Especially because her mom…her mom was an innocent victim in the course of a violent felony. It would take a special kind of connection to work through that kind of thing and we didn’t have it. At least not on her side.”

  “Were you in love with her?”

  “Okay,” he said briskly. “Back to you and the job search. Are you sure I can’t try and get you something in this town?”

  Like hell he was changing the subject. “Spike, I’m really sorry. Do you understand that? I hated that you did what you had to do to save me. And that you went to prison…The longest days of my life were when you were suffering for what I volunteered for.”

  His eyes bored into her. “No woman volunteers to get beaten. And no man worth his name allows it to happen, especially if he walks in on it. You did the best you could.”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying not to cry. “No, I didn’t. I should have left him before you—”

  “I would do it all over again,” Spike said in a dead voice. “The act and the time. To save you, I would do it again.”

  Jaynie put the glass on the floor between them and buried her face in her arms. Only to feel a solid, soothing palm land on her back.

  “It’s okay,” Spike said softly.

  “I ruined your life because I was too weak to get away from him—”

  Spike’s voice became very quiet. “He would have killed you if you’d tried to leave, you know that, right?”

  Oh, God…yes…she’d known that. She hated to think about it, even now. But it was…horribly true.

  Eventually, she lifted her head, wiped her eyes and offered him a watery smile. “I still can’t forgive myself.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  She shook her head but wasn’t going to argue. “How is it possible we’ve never really talked about this before?”

  “We haven’t been in the same house for long enough. That’s why I was so glad when you called and wanted to come up here. That’s why I want you to stay.”

  Jaynie reached out and took his hand. “You know something…that woman who doesn’t trust you? She’s crazy.”

  He shook his head. “Madeline’s—”

  “Absolutely crazy.”

  * * *

  Mad was nuts. Certifiable. Completely crazy.

  Because she was way too calm.

  At quarter of three in the afternoon, she stepped out of a cab and tilted her head back, looking up, way up, into the sky over Manhattan. The Chrysler Building was impressive from any angle, but the view from the ground was overwhelming.

  So she really should have been scared.

  Instead, she gave her black suit jacket a good yank at the hips, squared her shoulders and marched over to the doors. After she went through the security check point, she got into an elevator with six other people. Everyone was in suits, and she imagined even with her height a
nd her tan, she looked like the others.

  She got off on the third floor from the top, stopped in front of a nicely dressed receptionist and was shown into a large conference room with a huge, egg-shape table in the middle. The place was filled with more people in suits and smelled like fresh coffee and aftershave.

  Richard was in the corner with Charles Barker.

  Mad headed for the first empty seat she saw and put her board books on the glossy table. There was a notable lull in conversation as she sat down, but she ignored it by shuffling through the packet of additional materials that was arranged like a place setting in front of her chair.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Richard pressed palms with the other nineteen board members, working his way around the table.

  When he got to her, he leaned down. “You never returned my calls.”

  “What was the point?” she said calmly, looking him right in the eye.

  He seemed taken aback and he moved on with a frown.

  The meeting was started by Charles Barker and the pace was brisk. Senior staff members made reports, questions were asked, answers were given. She kept quiet. Until the very end.

  The subject of the acquisition of Organi-Foods was last on the agenda and Richard stood up to make his presentation. While he talked, it was obvious by Charles Barker’s body language that the board’s chairman didn’t approve: Barker crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight ahead, lips tight.

  When Richard and his management team had finished fielding questions about the proposal, Barker cleared his throat and spoke in a flat voice. “I’m asking for a vote on whether to proceed with the proposed acquisition of the Organi-Foods Corporation. All those in favor, say ‘aye.’”

  Mad was the first to speak up. “Aye. And I have a proxy to vote my sister’s shares, as well. They are in the affirmative also.”

  Richard just about fell out of his chair. And so did Barker. In fact, a ripple of gasps went through the boardroom.

  Mad sat back in her chair and met all the stares coming at her calmly. The voting continued, but the decision had been made. By her and Amelia putting their shares behind the merger, it was a done deal.

  Various technicalities were discussed and then the meeting was adjourned. She was out the door the moment Barker rapped the table with the tip of his Montblanc pen.

  She’d made it all the way to the elevators by the time Richard rushed up to her and took her elbow.

  “Madeline,” he said. And then he seemed to stall out. In the background, the post-meeting chatter spilled out of the conference room.

  “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you oppose me?”

  She shifted her board materials around to break his hold on her and punched the down button on the wall. “Because it’s not about you. It’s about the right thing for the company. Your business assumptions are correct. If we don’t expand we can’t compete, and with increased volume sales, we can offer better discounts. Barker can’t seem to see this for some reason. Which tells me he’s probably not the right person to chair the board.”

  Richard’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head as the elevator doors opened.

  She got in and turned to face him. “You, Richard, are a nasty piece of work. You always have been. But you happen to have incredible business sense. As CEO of our father’s company, you’re in the right role. Just bear this in mind. I’m voting Amelia’s shares from now on as well as my own. And if I don’t think you’re the right man for the job, I’m going to fire your ass in a heartbeat. Now, I want an analysis on the prospective, post-merger market opportunities delivered to my post office box in Manhattan the day after tomorrow. Goodbye, Richard.”

  After the double doors closed, she sagged against the mahogany paneling.

  She supposed she should have felt triumph or satisfaction or a rush of power. Instead, she was fixated on one thing and one thing only.

  Getting to Spike.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  As Spike walked into the White Caps’s kitchen, he shot his partner a dry look. “Nate, my man, I’ve got to do something. Can’t sit on it any longer.”

  “You’ve got a third-degree on your wrist. You’ve been off forty-eight hours.”

  “Like I said, I’ll roll napkins. But I can’t sit at home.”

  Nate’s eyes narrowed, but then he smiled. “Fine. Go into the back room and work that paper. We’ve got bills to process.”

  Spike winced. “You are such a bastard.”

  “And you can still go home.”

  Spike perpetrated an ungentlemanly gesture, got a kiss blown in return and then went into the office.

  Standing in the doorway, he faced off at the piles of bills and other business-related paper nightmares on the desk. He would almost rather be at home doing nothing. Almost.

  Man, this was like choosing between watching paint dry and copying the phone book in longhand.

  He went over and sat in the creaky wooden chair, only to stare out the window. The sun was low in the sky, setting over the far mountain range, and down below, Saranac Lake was smooth as glass. The reflection off the water was a molten peach.

  He rubbed his chest. He was lonely. He missed Mad—

  Damn it, there had to be some way of getting her out of his mind.

  Spike looked at the desk. Paperwork. Maybe that would do the ticket. Maybe he could just bore the preoccupation right out of his head.

  * * *

  At ten o’clock that night, Mad stopped the Viper in front of a large Victorian that was just off Saranac Lake’s town square. The trip upstate had taken her about four and a half hours. She barely remembered a minute of it.

  What a nice house, she thought as she looked at the facade. And so homey, at least from the outside. She would have expected Spike to live in something more modern.

  She stepped out and glanced up to a small porch under a cupola at the building’s very top. The glow in the window beyond reassured her that even though she didn’t see the Harley, maybe he was in.

  The front door to the house opened easily and she double-checked the mailboxes. Sean had told her that Spike lived in the uppermost apartment and sure enough, there it was: Moriarty, 3rd floor.

  She took the broad stairs all the way up and knocked.

  “Who is it?” a female voice said through the door.

  Mad frowned. “Oh…I’m sorry. I thought that Spike Moriarty lived here.”

  Or maybe he did and he wasn’t alone. Her heart started to pound. Good God…what if he was with a woman right this very moment?

  As she began to panic in earnest, there was a clicking sound while a lock was turned and then the door opened as far as a brass chain would allow. A petite woman with brown hair looked out. Her eyes, behind glasses, were some kind of blue.

  “Spike does live here, but he’s at work,” she said. Then that pale gaze narrowed. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Madeline, would it?”

  “Ah…yes, it is.”

  “Have you come to make nice?”

  Mad just about fainted. “I, ah…yes, I’ve come to apologize. Yes.”

  The chain was dropped and the door opened all the way. A small hand was extended. “I’m Jaynie. His sister.”

  Still feeling a little light-headed, Mad shook the palm that was offered, amazed that this slight, quiet woman was Spike’s sister. The two had absolutely nothing in common. Not the yellow eyes or the jet-black hair or the size. Not the charisma, either, it would seem.

  Mad snapped herself into focus, aware that the woman was waiting for her to speak. “Madeline Maguire. I’m pleased to met you.”

  Jaynie nodded and they dropped hands. “Listen, he’s not going to be home for a while. Where are you staying in town?”

  “I’m…not.” Boy, she hadn’t thought this through, had she? She’d only been thinking about getting to him, not what would happen after she was finished talking to him. Where the hell was she going to
spend the night?

  “Do you live not far from here?” Jaynie asked.

  “Actually, I drove up from Manhattan. When does he get home?”

  “Sometimes not until after midnight.”

  “Oh. I, ah…I have to talk to him.” Maybe she could sleep in the car for a while and come back. It was ten now—

  “Would you like to wait for him here?”

  Yes, Mad thought. For however long it took. At least she’d be guaranteed a chance to see him this way.

  “Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.” Mad walked through the door and looked around the apartment. Walls were linen white, moldings were varnished wood, there were windows everywhere. Not a lot of furniture and no pictures or paintings, but the place didn’t feel stark somehow.

  And then she saw it. Over in the corner, Spike’s leather jacket was hanging off the back of a chair and she wanted to hug the thing. Smell it. Get close. God knew the leather was almost as soft as his skin in some places.

  Jaynie shut the door, locking and chaining it as if she were in a big city. “I was about to have something to eat. Have you had dinner? I know it’s late…”

  “Oh, that’s kind, but you don’t have to feed me, too.”

  “There’s plenty to go around. Honestly. Spike hates to cook at home, so I feed him when he lets me.”

  “Well…then that would be terrific. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Mad followed the woman into a kitchen with a table and two chairs. The smell from the oven was fantastic…onions, spices…“What is that?”

  “Just meat loaf.” Jaynie took a pan out of the oven. “And I boiled up some corn.”

  Ten minutes later, the two of them were eating together. And Mad had figured out how Spike and Jaynie were alike. They both had that essential separation from the world, as if there were a glass wall between them and everyone else, one that they looked through, but never walked around. As if they had something they kept to themselves.

  “How did you know my name?” Mad asked eventually.

  Jaynie cleaved a piece of butter off the stick she’d put on a little saucer. As she ran the pat up and down her ear of sweet corn, she seemed to be carefully considering her words.