Dangerous Kiss

by Michelle Love

  He hadn’t even known he had a brother until his father had died and he was called into his lawyer’s office. He’d been drawn to the painting of the old plantation house he’d been brought up in …

  He gazed at the picture of the house, remembering the last time he had ever seen it. Remembering being sent away. Just a boy. An only child. Apparently not. In this stranger’s law office, the photograph of his home, the home from which he was banished, seemed incongruous, wrong.

  “Mr. Podesta?” Jared turned to face the lawyer, his face cold.

  “Mr. Podesta, do you understand what I am telling you?”

  Jared smiled, humorless. “Mr. Hamilton, what have I done to make you think I am in some way retarded? You have just informed that I have a brother whose existence up to now was denied to me. So, my mother and father hid from me the fact that they had another son.”

  William Hamilton shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not exactly…”

  Jared sat down opposite him, a movement so abrupt it startled the elderly lawyer.

  “Then tell me how exactly, Mr. Hamilton.” Jared brushed his trousers before turning his hard stare to the lawyer once more. “Well?”

  Hamilton cleared his throat. Unease made his stomach roll.

  “Your brother was adopted from birth; your mother never saw him. But somehow, don’t ask me how, it was a closed adoption; she found out where he was and kept tabs on him. And when she died, she split her estate equally between you.”

  Jared digested the information. “Where is he?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Where is my brother now? What’s his name?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

  “Mr. Hamilton, you will give me the information I want. My family abandoned me, and until now, I have had no idea that I have a sibling. I want to know my family, Mr. Hamilton. Where is he?”

  Hamilton looked into the eyes of the man in front of him, and recognized the dead eyes of a psychopath.

  “It was your mother’s wish…”

  “Fuck my mother, Mr. Hamilton. I want the family I was denied. Where is he?”

  “His name is David Azano He’s a teacher at a private school near Seattle. He lives with his wife in Auburn.”

  “Washington.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. Mr. Hamilton, you will give me the full address and any other pertinent details. You will engage an attorney in Seattle to handle my brother’s inheritance. I will meet with him and impart the good news myself.”

  Hamilton opened his mouth to argue but his mouth flapped ineffectually as Jared smiled to himself and rose, not offering his hand to the older man.

  “I will call again tomorrow for the information. I hope, and expect, you will give me the information I want.”

  But then the lawyer had called and asked if he’d seen the news. His brother had gone crazy, shot up a school, killed some people, some kids. Jared watched the news dispassionately. Well, that meant he got all of his father’s inheritance, he supposed. The lawyer had disagreed. No, David’s money would go to his wife. That had angered Jared but then he’d seen her, Zea, her face wracked with grief, wracked with guilt on the television, and his breath was taken away.

  The answer was clear. He would find her, seduce her, then he would have the prize. Not just the money but the beautiful woman his brother had abandoned. She would be his.

  And now, not only was he about to lose Zea but if she married Flynt Newlan, then he would have lost all control over her. He’d done his homework on Newlan, knew he came from money. If he married Zea, then all and any control Jared had over her would be gone.

  Jared knew that in the next few hours, it would be settled one way or another. And if he had to kill Newlan, or Zea, or both of them, then he would. It was time to finish this.

  But then the idea came to him and he almost burst out laughing. So, so obvious.

  Bree leaned her head against the window of the ferry lounge. Outside, the weather was squally; the ferry heaved and fought against the boiling sea. Bree’s stomach roiled but she swallowed back the nausea. Bree sighed at the peace the day alone had given her. She’d gotten up before dawn, caught the first boat into the city on Kizzie’s suggestion, just hanging out in coffeehouses alone, or in bookstores. She had bought Kizzie a new cello bow and some Arvo Part on vinyl, to say thank you.

  She had spent the weekend with Kizzie at her place on the island, enjoying the waterfront villa. Kizzie had grinned when Bree expressed her admiration. “I know it’s outrageously expensive but God, the peace. Plus, I don’t disturb the neighbors when I practice.” She’d played the cello for Bree and Bree had been deeply moved by the music, even ended up in tears. It felt good to cry. She and Kizzie had talked non-stop about everything, everything, and it had taken the edge off the tension she had felt starting to overwhelm her.

  Then Kizzie had started to talk about Jesse. “He misses you, Bree. So much. Don’t make that face. I know you feel the same. And the truth of the matter is there’s no way you can go on avoiding him if we’re going to be friends. Or if he decides to move away from Seattle and you never see him again.”

  Pain shot through Bree and she winced. Kizzie had seen it. “There you go. So, the only way is to fight through the painful part and get back to being … jeez, I don’t know. Friends. Friends who, yeah, are in love with each other, but still just … friends. Soulmates, if you like.” She grinned at Bree but her eyes were serious. She took her hand, trying to soften her words. “Honestly, if you can’t … then I don’t know what’s going to happen to all of us. I can’t choose sides, Bree. He’s my brother. Being selfish, I can’t live without either of you, so it’s time to suck it up and get over it.”

  The grief Bree felt at her words was overwhelming.

  Kizzie could see the anger and the pain on her friend’s face. Bree shook her head. “I’m so wrecked by everything that’s happened lately, Kizzie. The shootings, Emory, my mom and dad.” Tears started to pour down her face. “And Jesse … I should have given him a chance to explain. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t gone off at him. I love him so, so much, Kizzie, I’m sick of pretending I don’t.”

  Sitting down in the window seat, she glanced over to Jesse’s house. Seeing it in darkness, she covered her face with her hands and let out one wrenching sob. “And I’m so sick of pretending that my heart isn’t broken and I don’t know how to fix it. That every time I think of him with her, Julietta, I feel like I’m dying.”

  Kizzie’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her friend weep. “Oh sweetheart…” She went and pulled Bree over to the couch, made her sit, and held her as she tried to stop crying. “You should know … he’s not with Julietta like that. He’s supporting her because of the baby, but it’s you he loves. I know it.”

  Eventually Bree’s sobs shuddered to a stop and she sniffed. Kizzie let her go and smiled at her.

  “I have an idea. You need to get away from everything, at least for a day.”

  Bree wiped her eyes. “That sounds good. What’s the plan?”

  The ferry pitched and rocked, the weather outside worsening. Bree closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. For once, they’d decided, the Varsity could stay closed for a day. Bree would get out, into the city, away from everyone and clear her head. And it had worked. She felt stronger, a decision had been made. Jesse … the pain of never seeing him outweighed everything. Everything. So, she would try to live with being just his friend. The thought made her stomach warm.

  Bree shifted in her seat, pulling her coat tighter. The breeze from the ocean swept in as the door to the deck opened behind her and she shivered. She leaned her head on her hand, sleep threatening.

  Then she felt someone sit down beside her, a hand sliding gently into hers. In the second before she opened her eyes, a memory came flooding back. A shock of messy hair and a crooked smile. She knew this skin, the warm fingers tangling gently through hers. Her stomach flipped and she opened her eyes. />
  Jesse didn’t look at her at first, a flush of red high on his cheeks. His long fingers squeezed hers in the tiniest movement. Love. Bree felt disconnected from the world, her breath hitching and stalling. Jesse turned his head then, and his smile made her weak. He slid a hand around her waist, pulled her to him, and leaned his head against hers. Bree sighed, unable to resist his touch, her entire body tingling. Her arms slid around his body, his familiar, solid, comforting shape. She felt him slide his fingers into her hair and press his lips against her forehead. She looked up into his eyes and a sense of calmness, of security came over her. You are my home. Jesse smiled when he read the love in her expression. They didn’t speak.

  They stayed like that until the ferry docked on the island. Letting the other passengers filter off before they stood, they walked slowly from the harbor, fingers still linked, Jesse’s thumb brushing the back of her hand rhythmically, sending warm tingles through her. At the edge of Main Street, Jesse pulled her into an alleyway, and into his arms. In silence, they stood, locked together. Then he let her go, touched the back of his hand to her face, his eyes shining.

  “Goodnight.”

  She smiled at him, her face soft with love. “’Bye.” She leaned against the corner of the building, watching him walk slowly home. Before he went inside, he turned and raised his hand. She waved back and grinned. When he had gone, she started to walk toward Kizzie’s home, debating whether to get a cab back. The evening was cool, but was only a couple of miles walk home.

  At the villa, Bree glanced at Kizzie’s closed bedroom door as she passed, grinning to herself. Kizzie would have loved to know what just happened. Sorry, Kizzie, just for today, this is mine. She smiled to herself and went to bed.

  Emory steeled herself, then nodded at Dante and the psychiatrist. “Okay.”

  Sophia sat beside her, holding her hand. Today, they were going to tell her everything, about who she was, where she came from, who wanted to kill her.

  Dante and Sophia had been incredibly kind, and she hadn’t wanted for anything since she woke up. They bought her clothes, fed her, arranged medical treatment. She had talked to them, so she knew a little—her name, that she was a teacher, that she had been involved with some kind of massacre at her school. She had been horrified at that and had gotten so upset that Dante had called in some psychiatric help, too.

  Now, a month later, she was ready. She nodded at Dante, who smiled at her. She had grown incredibly close to the man, as well as Sophia, who’d turned out to be his cousin. She had become aware, lately, of a change in her and Dante’s relationship. They spent long evenings talking, laughing; she found him intelligent and erudite, and he was definitely an attractive man with his warm eyes, his swarthy skin, his athletic build. She was aware of his attraction to her, but something was holding her back.

  She wondered now if she would discover what that was. Flashes of memory had stared to come back to her, mostly disjointed nightmares, but every so often, something that felt like a lover’s kiss would drift across her mind. She had been loved; she knew it in her soul.

  She just didn’t know who by. Now, as she sat ready, she knew one thing. The man in the photograph they placed in front of her wasn’t it. He was older, florid, arrogant, and her stomach curled with a subconscious dread.

  “This is Raymond Grace,” Dante said gently. “This is the man we think shot you. Your ex-husband.”

  Emory picked up the photograph and stared at the face. Yes. She nodded. “I know this face. I was married to him?” Her voice was gruff, full of astonishment, and Sophie couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

  “Honey, we’ve all been wondering how that happened.”

  Emory laughed and suddenly she felt better. She put down the photo and looked expectantly at Dante. With a nod from the psychiatrist, Dante handed her another photograph. This time it was of a young woman, a teenager, short dark hair and dark, dark eyes. A tomboy. Emory’s pulse quickened. “I know this girl … I know her.” As she studied the picture, she began to smile. “I feel like … she’s a friend. A good friend.”

  “You saved her life,” Dante said gently. “Her name is Bree Saffran.”

  Emory felt a jolt, one that took her breath away. “Bree? I know her, Bree, oh my God.”

  Suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She bent double and then Dante was there, holding her. She rocked back and forth.

  “I remember. I remember… the school. David, it was David … he was going to kill her, oh my god, oh no, god, he had a knife…”

  Dante held her as she sobbed, the memories crashing back. He nodded to Sophie and to the doctor, who both quietly left the room. He held Emory tightly, letting her cry herself out. When she stopped, sighing and apologizing, he took her face in his hands. “Stop apologizing; you have nothing to apologize for. You’re a hero, Emory.” He stroked her face with his thumbs. Emory gazed at him and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed. Emory drew in a shaky breath. “Dante…”

  His lips met hers and he kissed her, gently, shyly, questioningly. Emory closed her eyes, felt the sensation of his embrace, and sank into it. She tangled her fingers in his dark hair as they kissed and when she opened her eyes, she saw the love in his.

  “Emory,” he said in a soft voice, “I’m crazy about you. You are everything I have ever wanted but I don’t want to coerce you, or take advantage because I would hate it if you were to regain your memories only to find that there is someone else, someone you left behind, and you felt I betrayed that.”

  Emory gazed at him, her hand cupping his cheek. “Dante … I just don’t know, I cannot remember. What I do know is this—there’s something in my mind that keeps pulling me back. Something I just can’t reach it. You’re a wonderful man and I don’t want to break your heart, or mine. Until I know everything, I can’t make that decision. But know this …,” and she leaned her forehead against his. “Right now, this moment? This is ours. The rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

  Dante frowned, not understanding. “Emory?”

  She pressed her lips against his. “Hold me.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, feeling her arms curl around him. God, he wanted this woman so badly and she was giving him what he wanted, right here, right now, with no expectations.

  They held each other for a time, then Dante walked her back to her room. “You know, now that you’re feeling better, you can come up to the main house. Stay in one of the guestrooms.”

  Emory looked hesitant. “I don’t know … I think it’s best that we keep a distance, don’t you? For now, I mean.”

  Dante smiled. “Of course. But I promise, it would be a pleasure to have you there.” He hadn’t meant that to sound dirty, but when Emory giggled, he realized and flushed red. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” She sat down on her bed. “Dante, I don’t know how I can ever repay what you’ve done for me. It’s just incredible. Maybe … I don’t know, maybe I could do some work for you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know anything about conglomerates?” He grinned as she pulled a face.

  “Not a thing.”

  “Just keep getting better, that’s all I ask. Now, listen, speaking of work, I have to get back, so, you have everything you need?”

  “I do. Thank you, Dante.”

  He smiled and left the room, his emotions swirling inside him. She had gotten under his skin, this beautiful woman, and he knew he was in great danger of falling in love with her. So, was that the reason you didn’t mention Luca Saffran? He pushed the thought away and told himself that his detectives hadn’t confirmed that Emory was in a romantic relationship with the man. Yeah, right. Dante sighed, pushing the guilt to the back of his mind, and went to work.

  Luca looked up as his secretary knocked at the door. “Someone to see you, Luca.”

  Luca glanced at the clock. A little before ten p.m. He frowned. “Really?”

  She nodded. Then as she stepped back, Luca saw the last person h
e expected. He stood and strode over. “Maximo…what are you doing here?”

  Maximo shook his hand and fixed him with a steady look. “I’m here to offer my help, Luca. As a friend. As someone who lost someone he loved. And not only that, But I think I can help you. I think we can help each other…”

  Part #7: Kizzie

  As both she and Jesse were night owls, it was no surprise to Hannah that at twelve o’clock she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened her door. “Jeez, you look … happy.”

  Her brother grinned at her as she let him in, but stayed quiet. He swaggered over to the easy chairs and slumped back into one. Kizzie laughed at the playful look on his face.

  “Seriously, dude, I haven’t seen you smile in I don’t know how long.” She peered at him. “Did something happen?” She grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, handing him one.

  Jesse’s smile was smug. “Might have had a moment with a certain someone. Had to go into the city this afternoon.”

  Kizzie’s mouth was a perfect ‘O’. “You saw Bree? She didn’t say anything.”

  He nodded and sighed happily. “On the ferry on the way back. Is she here?”

  “Asleep in the guestroom. Do you want me to wake her?”

  Jesse shook his head, giving her a smile. “No, let her rest.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  He leaned forward, grabbed his beer. “Nothing.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay…nothing at all?”

  He shook his head, but she laughed at the satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, I guess you two have never needed words, hey?” She leaned forward and clinked her bottle against his, grinning at the look of happiness on her brother’s face. “So, what now?”

  Jesse shook his head. “Honestly, sis? I have no idea.”

  Zea looked over at Flynt now as they drove back from City Hall. Mrs. Flynt Newlan. Wow. Flynt grinned over at her, knowing what she was thinking. “Crazy, huh? Wifey.”