by Diana Downey
Nice relatives.
Why would Manny’s rivals care about us?
They drive slowly by us, and his name comes to me. Espinoza sticks his hand out the window. He configures his hand as a gun, points it at me, and pretends to shoot. Terror streaks up my back, leaving its chilly wake. These guys scare the hell out of me. How will I protect Willa from them? Why would the Juarez cartel stalk us?
I understand why Uncle Manny might. He wants the flash drive that contains his business transactions, and it’s the only security I have. I thought maybe he wouldn’t come after me, and the drive is my insurance, but that’s a pipe dream.
I made multiple copies and put them in safety deposit boxes in two different states—one is Alaska that has Shane and his father’s name on the box. Neither of them knows about it. Willa’s name is on the rest. I never thought feeling safe would last, and I don’t want Willa involved in any of my troubles.
Manny thought he could find the backups my father hid in Mom’s garden, but he was wrong. Willa and I dug them up. It’s the only thing keeping me alive, except Manny is crazy, and he’ll try to kill me again.
Chapter Willa
Once a week, Cyn and I visit Mom’s grave and bring flowers we cannot afford. Though I did catch her cutting roses from the neighbor’s yard today. It’s more like something I would do, not her.
After her arduous hike through the Alaskan wilderness, Cyn has changed. She still wears high heels that could break her neck, but she’s even tougher. Though I do remember the day Mom was abducted and Shane brought her home. The hot New Mexican sand and rocks had slashed and punished her feet. Cyn could barely walk for two weeks.
She never once complained, but like all of us, we cried for months over losing Mom. I still do.
I try not to think about the gang members threatening us. I don’t know how Cyn plans on protecting us. Why do Manny’s rivals care about us? We’re not stupid. We would never release the flash drive unless Uncle Manny kills one of us.
Cyn lays the blanket down for us to sit on next to Mom’s grave. She has on a white Givenchy lacy slip dress and Prada wedges. Shane will like what she’s wearing.
Other than our dark hair and eyes, we couldn’t be any more different. I’m dressed in cutoffs, Chucks, and a Dallas Cowboys’ tee.
When we were little Fay and Cyn would play dress-up and watch Disney princess movies for hours. They’d torture me by using me as a model, curling my hair, accessorizing me, and caking makeup onto my face. I love them both though, even if I missed out on the fashion gene.
Fay and Cyn are not speaking to each other, and it’s my goal for them to reconcile. I knew Fay had nothing to do with Mom’s murder, and frankly, I don’t think Uncle Manny will give up on trying to kill Cyn. He isn’t going to forget about his drug business copied onto drives in our possession.
Like me, Fay only wanted what was left of Mom, anything she wore or loved and cherished. Her engagement ring from her first husband and Fay’s father is contentious, and Fay wants it back from Cyn. While Cyn was on her honeymoon in Alaska, she found the ring and Mom’s tennis shoes. Manny’s men tracked Cyn across the Interior, and Shane saved her. Fay and I are both jealous that Cyn got to say goodbye and that she was the last one to see Mom.
Tears well up in my eyes. Cyn takes a bite out of an apple and stares at Mom’s grave. When we lost the ranch, we had to move her from there. Cyn finally talked Dad’s mom into giving us the location of her head so that it was rejoined to her body. It’s sad that our grandmother sides with her drug-dealing son instead of our father.
I hate Uncle Manny and wish him dead. Cyn and I should take care of him before he does us in. There’s no way though we could get near his well-guarded hacienda.
“Are you wearing that for your interview?” I ask. It’s really sexy.
“Yes,” Cyn says in that perky voice of hers. “Do you think it’ll work?”
“Shane already wants you back.”
“And Nikita wants him.” She pouts, making me laugh. No wonder guys have a hard time resisting her.
Both of my sisters are beautiful. Cyn is jealous of Fay because she looks like Mom who resembles Blake Lively, and Fay can’t stand that Cyn resembles Selma Hayak.
“How do you know Shane wants me back? He hasn’t spoken to me,” Cyn adds. “He only sent me that letter that got me all excited.”
“I ran into him,” I say guiltily, “and he told me he’s working on getting you back.”
She frowns. “And you didn’t think to tell me that.”
“I saw him a few days ago. This is the first chance I’ve had. He’s so gorgeous.” I let out a frustrated sigh. I’d love to have a man like him. I couldn’t even find a guy to take me to senior prom.
I’ll be glad to be out of high school next year and in college to date real men.
“What did Shane say?” Cyn asks anxiously, tugging my arm.
“I already told you.” I plop down beside her. “Shane’s so manly. You need to find me someone like him.”
“You’ll find your prince.” She hands me an apple. “Did you tell him about my interview? I put it under my middle name.” Cyn’s actually nervous about seeing Shane.
“No. I wish I could see his face when he sees your dress,” I say.
“He thinks I’m a little too wrapped up in clothes.”
“No, he doesn’t. He loves the way you look. It’s obvious how he trips over himself when you’re around. He told me about your 80-mile adventure. That made you a superstar in his eyes. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit.”
“I hope so. No other guy can compete with him now. I may even move to Alaska to live in his stupid fishing camp.”
I lie down and kick my feet up in the air. “That wouldn’t be so bad. You love to fish.”
“I do, and I love that big gorgeous man chiseled from granite.”
That would be a huge step for Cyn. She’d miss living in Austin and the stores, but being broke, she’s already missing them. “Shane has a perfect body.”
“Please don’t remind me.” Cyn pulls out the old flowers and puts in the stolen roses. We eat our lunch and enjoy the gentle weather of March in Austin.
Singing in a thick Irish brogue about a Dublin girl named Molly Malone sounds in my ears. I glance over my shoulder to see who’s singing the song. The crashing and swearing of a good-sized man comes next. He stumbles along and almost knocks himself unconscious by falling onto a headstone. What’s wrong with him?
Cyn nods at this very hot man filling out his jeans and tee shirt incredibly well. He’s tall, not as tall as Shane, with dark hair and several days worth of beard growth. Oh my God, I think I like his beard. None of the boys in high school have one. He’s extremely masculine, and I’d like to touch him.
What is wrong with me? I’ve only kissed a handful of boys, and I think Cyn paid them too. I’ve never been forward, but the sudden attraction has stolen my good sense.
She’s always trying to set me up. She also knows how awkward I feel trying to talk to guys. I don’t have the whole flirty thing going on like Cyn and Fay.
He doesn’t even glance at us, so there’s no interest. It’s no surprise, not for me.
He blunders over to the Hunt plot, which surprises me. How does he know them? Fay’s dad is buried there, and he plops down in front of Fay’s uncle’s grave. Dallas Hunt recently passed. I don’t think he had any children, but Fay said he was a womanizing partyer, so maybe he does have kids.
My crooner has thick unruly hair that I’d love to run my hands through until he pulls out a flask. He’s not for me, not if he’s drinking and driving.
“Who do you think he is?” I ask Cyn. I can’t believe I’m still interested. He’s plastered.
She shrugs. “I think he’s crying. He may be related to Fay.”
“Should we see if he’s all right?” I ask, though I don’t really want to approach a drunkard.
“He’s upset and we probably shouldn’t let him driv
e, especially if he’s related, even through marriage.” She nudges me. “Go talk to him. You need a date for prom.”
“I’m not looking for a man, and I don’t need a date for prom,” I say. “He’s too old to go to some high school dance.”
“Maybe he’s looking for Cinderella to take to the ball.” She shoos me away. “You need to work on your man skills.”
“He’s drinking,” I say.
She winks. “That’ll make it easier. He won’t remember the conversation.”
Talking to men has never come easy for me, but Cyn’s right. I start a sales job next week, and I work on commission. I need to be able to talk to strangers.
“Go on.” She’s teasing me now.
Nerves kick my stomach all the way over to him. He doesn’t even notice me approaching. Could I be anymore invisible?
The closer I get I realize he’s not crying. He lets out a raucous laugh. Why is he laughing? Dallas is dead. He sits right on his grave and takes a healthy swig from his flask.
“Ah, dear old da,” he says in that sexy Irish brogue. Could he be any hotter? “Yer were a tool.”
It’s good to know he’s probably not a blood relative to Cyn or me, though he could be swinging from Fay’s family tree.
He drinks some more and then stares at my Chucks. His hand presses down on them, like they might be a figment of his imagination. He then grabs my ankle, startling me. It’s like I was struck by lightning. His gaze works its way up my body, making me extremely uncomfortable, even if he is painfully hot.
“Well hello, wee lassie. Yer looking for someone?”
“Are you okay?” I barely get out. Did someone suck all the air off the planet because I can barely catch my breath?
“More than fine. Just visiting me da.” He raises the flask to me. “Would yer like some?”
“No thanks.” I glance at the gravestone, which pretty much says Dallas was the single party hound whom Fay described. “I’m asking because Dallas is my half sister’s uncle, and he supposedly doesn’t have any children.”
He chuckles. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’m a bastard. Would’ve never thought that.” He swings his flask. “Here’s to yer, Da.”
His drinking scares me. “You aren’t driving are you?”
“I’ll be sleeping here tonight with me dear ole da. I think he’d like that.” He drinks some more and almost hits his head on the stone. “Yer see, he left all his millions to the Humane Society, and even took his dog with him, so he wouldn’t have to give a dime or his dog to us. Never paid a cent to me ma, and I liked the dog. I would’ve taken the dog.” He burps rather loudly.
“You should let us drive you home. I’m Willa. If Dallas is your dad, then you’re my cousin through marriage.” I look at him, expecting a name. He should be home in bed.
“Aedan. Are we kissing cousins?” He winks both eyes at me.
“We just met,” I say, his comment causing me to stumble backward. Now I really can’t breathe.
“Tis a shitty day, but I know how to make it better.” He stands up and towers over me, and I’m not short. His lips curl into a devilish grin, and he teeters on his feet.
Jittery nerves flutter in my stomach. He’s not as big as Shane, but he’s big.
His grin widens, and he rubs that sexy chin. “Kiss a pretty girl. That’ll make my day.” Both his hands clasp my face, and his eyes sparkle with devious intent. He swoops down and lands his lips on my unsuspecting ones.
The beard growth scratches my chin. I taste the Irish whiskey on his tongue, and the scent of pure male, musky with a hint of soap, fills my nose. And to my surprise, my body really likes his roughness, especially the taste of him.
My legs give out, and his hand repositions to my waist. I’m melting, pooling into a puddle by his intense kiss. The song Kiss by Prince plays in my head. That has never happened when I’ve hooked lips with a boy. I’m hearing music, which could be worse than voices.
I hear Cyn giggling, breaking the momentum of his thought stealing kiss.
“I feel much better,” he says, puffing out his chest.
I push him away. “Get in the car. I’m driving you.”
“I like a forceful lass, but what about my truck? I may need that in the morning to work. I do have to work, especially after Da forgot about us.”
Us? “Give me the keys.”
“Can I trust you?” He dangles the keys above me out of my reach. “Yer did just steal a kiss from me, and you’re a relative of sorts. You naughty girl.”
When he stumbles, I snatch his keys, and Cyn gathers our picnic and blanket.
“I’ll follow you,” she says. “So Dallas Hunt didn’t take care of his progeny—no surprise there.”
I help Aedan into his beat-up truck, climb in, and get his address. Like an infant, he’s snoring as soon as the truck rumbles under us, and it makes me smile. I’ve met Dallas many times, and every time he had a different woman on his arm.
The address leads me to a small apartment, thankfully on the ground floor. I have to shake him hard for him to even stir. Cyn waits in my Camry outside while I help Aedan inside.
“Aren’t you going to help me?” I complain.
Laughing, she shakes her head. “He may want another kiss or worse yet kids.”
He grins, and I realize that blue eyes swim in a drunken sea of red. “Yer are an angel and pretty.”
I know I’m not howling at the moon, but guys usually notice Cyn and Fay before me, so my head swells, even though he’s blind drunk. His inebriation explains a lot.
As soon as we enter, a little mutt yaps and jumps on my legs, scratching them. It’s a cute teacup-sized dog. I help Aedan to his bed where he pulls me down with him. Oh God. How do I get out of his embrace? He feels so incredibly good I don’t want to.
This is not going to happen.
He’s laughing. “Well, that’s funny. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
He thankfully passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow.
I leave his keys on the counter where they’ll be easy to find and spot a very expensive movie rig sitting haphazardly on a chair. The rig has three motorized axis to stabilize shooting. I’ve taken a few film classes and have half considered majoring in it in college.
The dog keeps jumping toward the rig and getting dangerously close to knocking it off.
I lift the camera to set it higher up on the counter, and as I do, a beautiful dark haired woman waltzes in and toes off her ankle boots. This must be his girlfriend. I should’ve known.
Shoot.
Before I set the camera down, I take note of the Austin Studios key card with Aedan’s photo. He must work for them.
“Who are you?” she asks suspiciously. She has a slight Irish accent. “And why are you holding Aedan’s camera?”
This is awkward. Cyn, where are you? “Aedan was really drunk, and I gave him a lift.”
“That doesn’t explain why you are filching his camera.”
“I wasn’t. It was on the chair, and the dog was trying to jump on it. I thought it would be safer on the counter.”
“Sure,” she says sarcastically. “Where did you find him?
“He was crying. I mean laughing on my half sister’s uncle’s grave.”
“Who are you?” she asks again.
“Willa Diaz.” Even though I shouldn’t care, I hate that he has this gorgeous girlfriend.
Her hand hits her chest. “That’s a fret. You’ve been in the papers. Oh my word. My apologies, I’m Aedan’s sister, Caitlin.”
That’s great news. I barely know the man I scold myself. “I should probably go. My sister’s waiting, and she has an interview.” Really soon.
“Maybe we can swap stories later,” she says. “I’d like to hear about me da.”
“Maybe.” As I close the door behind me, I touch my scorched lips, knowing I want to see this very drunk man sober.
Chapter Cyn
I take a deep breath before entering Red Sky Corpor
ation. Shane’s admin is very attractive, short bouncy blonde hair and naturally pink cheeks and lips. I already feel out of place in my designer dress that shows my bare shoulders and think about how crazy I’ll look running back out.
She’s talking on the phone but looks up, smiles, and mouths, “I’ll be right with you.”
I stand in the lobby, clutching my leather binder that holds my resume and tablet. I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am, even though Shane and I had panty-melting, headboard-banging sex in Alaska.
I nervously tap my foot. What if he doesn’t want to see me, especially after the snafu at the bar the other night? What if he got back with Nikita? He was going to marry her and was out with her, which infuriated me. Then why did he come over to me and my friends and start fighting? What if he’s still mad at me?
The admin hangs up the phone and turns toward me. “It’ll be a couple minutes before Mr. O’Flannery can see you. Please take a seat.”
I check my phone time almost every 30 seconds before Shane comes out. He takes one look at me, and his eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. He looks pissed and surprised to see me.
Ah oh. Running sounds like a good option now, but I really need this job. It better pay well enough for me to put up with him dating Nikita.
He gestures for me to come into his office. I slowly get up and follow him inside.
After seeing him with Nikita last night, I want to be mad, but my body has other ideas. My anger flies out the window while I walk behind him and drool over his ass and natural swagger.
Before he closes the door, he tells his admin, “Please hold all my calls.” He locks the door with a satisfying click and ravishes me with his eyes, which surprises me.
His gaze coasts down the length of my dress to my legs, and a rakish and wolfish grin replaces his anger. I think of how his hands thrilled and explored every part of my body in Alaska.
Shane is wearing low-slung, holey jeans that hold the infamous organ, and I try not to think about Secretariat charging me. Blood shoots straight to my sex, so I squeeze my thighs together. While staring at his crotch, I lose my balance. He steadies me and laughs.