“Reese is going to love your ideas.” He lifted the paper she’d been sketching on and studied it further. “Why’d you leave marketing for the glam life of bartending?”
Her eyes darted to the side. “Just…It was time to go.”
“Why?”
A one-shouldered shrug, then, “Truth?”
“You have to ask?” He raised one eyebrow in challenge. She should know by now he preferred things laid out.
“My ex-boyfriend,” she said after blowing out a sigh of defeat.
“Damn.” He slapped one palm on the counter. “I knew it was his fault.”
“We were partners on a project, and he took full credit for what amounted to seventy-five percent my ideas. Management gave him the promotion I was angling for.”
Tag scowled.
“I know, right? Dick move to pull on your girlfriend. We had a big fight at work. My boss suggested I resign before I was written up and possibly fired.”
Now Tag was pissed.
“Your boss sounds like as big of a dick as your ex.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Her lips twisted.
“So what do you want to do?”
She shook her head, but he could see the wheels turning. She knew; she just wasn’t telling him. What made her keep pulling away? And what made him continue asking?
That was the more concerning issue. Not that it was unreasonable to care about her or what she was into, but the chasing was new.
“Do you see yourself in marketing again?” he pushed, evidently content to ignore his own concerns.
“Not really. I like bartending.” She smiled and looked down at her drawing. “I liked sharing this project with you. It’s been fun.”
In more ways than one.
He held her gaze. She looked away first.
“But joining another corporate circus? I don’t know. Employees can be vindictive. Each out to stomp on other people in their race to the top.” She fiddled with the pen next. “Bartending is one for all, all for one. You band together and do the job. Survive the rush. Make tips. Split the bar so you make sure each bartender is waiting on the person they’ll extract the most money from.”
“Smart,” Tag said with a smile. “Who knew you were such a good player?”
“Am I?” She wrinkled her nose again and he felt all of him lean closer. She drew him to her in every way. “Guess I kind of am.”
“Yeah, I guess you kind of are.” He grabbed hold of her and pulled her closer. Her eyes slid shut and she pursed her lips, accepting his kiss easily.
Tag wasn’t exaggerating about Reese loving her ideas.
He was in love with them himself.
Chapter 17
The rest of the morning was domestic in a way she hadn’t expected. Rachel couldn’t very well go home in her travel clothes after spending all day on a plane in them, so when Tag offered to toss them in with the laundry, she took him up on it.
She sighed happily as she pulled on her warm jeans and sweater fresh out of the dryer.
“Much as I hate to watch you put clothes on, I have to say, you’re damn cute when you do it.”
She lowered the cowl neck of her sweater from her nose and smiled. She liked this. Liked being here with him. Hell, liked being anywhere with him.
His cell phone rang and he dug it from his pocket. As he stepped into the other room, Rachel pulled a few shirts and pairs of his (giant) jeans from the dryer. When he stepped back into the laundry room, she was about to make a joke about how folding them was like folding a tent…
Until she looked at him.
His face had gone ashen, phone in hand, his eyes unseeing. “I have to go.”
His monotone voice and vacant stare had concern flooding her bloodstream. She rushed over to him.
“What is it? What happened?”
He swallowed thickly before his mouth opened. The only word that came out was, “Eli.”
Two cracked syllables paired with wetness in his eyes.
Her heart hit her stomach.
The brother who was stationed overseas.
The brother who was supposed to come home in a few months.
Was he…oh, God, she couldn’t think it.
“I’m coming with you,” she said, having no idea where they were headed. But she wasn’t going to send him out on the snowy roads of Chicago by himself when he’d received bad news.
He moved through the apartment, grabbed his keys and wallet, and reached for the door. Rachel snagged his coat off a chair, put hers on, and grabbed her purse. Once they’d pulled out of the parking garage in a black Mercedes, she asked the question she’d wanted to ask right away.
“Where are we going?”
He blinked like she’d interrupted very deep thoughts. “Hospital. He was injured last week.” Bitterness eked into the worry in his tone. “They flew him home to Chicago Memorial. Dad knew—received the call when it happened—but Eli demanded he keep that to himself.”
“So that was your dad on the phone?”
“Yeah.” Tag cleared his throat. “He said Eli was out of surgery and Reese and Merina were already there.”
She heard the grit in those words and felt her ire rise in his defense. Why was Tag the last to know?
“I don’t even know what he had surgery for.”
“I’m sorry.” If this were her family, she’d know every bit of information and speculation before anyone knew anything. Like a live news report, they’d guess and wonder, and each unfolding minute would play out via text and phone calls.
The rest of the drive was silent, the only sound the wipers as they gathered snow from the windshield. At the hospital, they sat in the dark of the parking garage for a long moment, Tag with one hand on the steering wheel.
She wanted to ask if he was okay, but he wasn’t. She could see it in every taut muscle of his body. The way he wore worry like a second skin.
“My family hasn’t seen me with a woman in a decade,” he said, fingers flexing on the wheel. “Expect some shocked expressions.”
Her heart thudded, stopped, then restarted.
“Not something I make a habit of.” Without a glance in her direction, he climbed out of the car and came to her door to help her out.
Inside, he made short work of navigating the hallways to the room number his father had given him. She hurried beside him to keep up, worry and fear eating a hole in her chest. She didn’t have a lot of practice with emergencies. One close call with her mother in the hospital for what ended up being anxiety and a grandmother who’d had a heart condition and died when Rachel was six were the totality of her family crises. She was woefully ill-prepared to be here, but neither would she have let Tag come alone. She’d never remembered seeing anyone as devastated as he looked right now. She cared about him, and whether he knew it or not, she could tell he needed her here.
In the waiting room, he beelined for a cluster of chairs. A tall, handsome, dark-haired guy wearing a dark suit stood to greet them. Reese Crane. His build, his facial features, and even the scruff on his jaw told her this was Tag’s oldest brother.
Before Reese could speak, Tag said, “Nice of you to let me know.”
His brother narrowed his eyes, anger seeping into his expression, and a woman with dark blond hair shot out of her seat to stand next to him. Reese’s wife-turned-ex-wife-turned-fiancée, no doubt.
“We only just found out ourselves, Tag.” She extended a hand to Rachel. “I’m Merina Van Heusen.”
“Crane,” Reese corrected.
“Not yet,” Merina said with a pointed look. Rachel shook her hand.
“You must be Rachel.” Reese shook her hand next.
“Yes.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“Cut the formality, Clip.” Tag’s anger was on a short leash. Rachel wrapped her hand around his forearm gently so he knew she was on his side. “What the hell is going on?”
“I’ll explain,” came an authoritative voice.
E
very head swiveled to the older, white-haired man with a matching white goatee. Thick, muscular build, flooring blue eyes.
This had to be Alex “Big” Crane.
Tag’s father.
* * *
The next few minutes were a blur.
Tag grilled his father for information, of which Alex gave as little as possible. Evidently Eli’s request that he keep quiet took precedence. That also included not sharing details of the surgery.
“You know I love you all equally, so stop trying to guilt me. Anyway, you can ask him yourselves.” Alex’s forehead was crinkled, his eyebrows meeting over a strong, straight nose as he snapped his eyes from Tag to Reese. “I don’t want a lecture from either one of you.”
“We should know what’s happened before we go in there,” Reese grumbled. Tag was glad his brother was as pissed as he was. Keeping secrets was bullshit, and not a habit the Crane men had when dealing with each other.
“We’re ready,” Alex said, beckoning a nurse. “Reese. You’re the oldest. You first. I’ll go in with you and Merina.”
“Tag…” Merina looked to him, but he shook his head and put his arm around Rachel. He understood the importance of Reese taking her with him. She shouldn’t go in there with anyone else.
“Not the way I envisioned first meeting your brother,” Merina said to Reese, her smile pale. Reese tucked her against his side and kissed her forehead. Tag’s gut twisted. Being here, everyone behaving somberly, was a premonition of something bad, and he hated that he didn’t know what it was.
His father’s assistant, Rhona, had come as well. Again Tag considered her presence, as well as the way her eyes were rimmed red, her hands laced in her lap, knuckles white. Definitely she and his dad were more than co-workers. She had taken the news as personally as any of them.
Which made him consider him and Rachel and what it meant that she’d insisted on coming with him. He couldn’t think of a single other woman from his past who would have offered. Face it, this wasn’t the most comfortable way to meet his family.
“Let’s sit,” Tag said to her, his voice gentle. He’d been growling like a caged lion since he arrived. Not only did it not help him pry information from his dad, but it also hadn’t put the scared woman at his side at ease.
Rachel sat next to him, fingers linked with his while her other hand rubbed his arm, consoling him. She was so damn sweet.
“He’s okay,” he told her, covering her hand with his. “If he’s making demands that none of us know what’s wrong until he tells us, then he’s okay.” Tag had to believe that or he’d go insane. When their mother died, Eli had handled losing Mom in much the same way he was handling this scenario—he’d locked up, shut down, and processed internally.
“I’m sorry we can’t tell you,” Rhona interrupted, her voice fragile. Worry was etched across her face, her blond-with-gray-streak ponytail sloppy like she’d hurriedly pulled it back. She was dressed casually, and so was Alex, which made Tag again consider how much time they spent together. “Eli was adamant.”
That she knew made Tag feel an ache of betrayal.
“I’ll know in a few minutes,” he said anyway, aware that taking out his anger on Rhona wouldn’t help the situation. Definitely she and his father were more serious than he’d thought.
Tag had a brief slap of insight at that thought. He hadn’t told his family about Rachel, until Reese had pressed. And here he was with her. They appeared together in every way. He couldn’t exactly fault his dad for not laying things out. Maybe, like Tag, Alex didn’t know what he and Rhona had either.
“Tag,” came Reese’s voice, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Rachel. You two can go in now.”
Reese’s pallor was sickly, his expression grim. Merina didn’t look much better.
Tag’s stomach sank. He stood, then glanced at Rachel, who rose from her seat cautiously. His girl, blond hair down and beautiful, eyes wide with worry. She was scared. She was concerned. And she was in a hospital with his entire family. She’d stayed by his side.
His sister-in-law-to-be swiped tears from her cheeks, a look of devastation covering her features. When Reese enclosed Merina in a comforting hug and met Tag’s eyes over her head, Tag’s knees nearly went out from under him.
What the fuck had happened to Eli?
“Rachel, I’m not sure this is the best time for you to meet Eli,” Alex stated. The look he sent Tag next made him feel like puking.
“She’s going,” Tag stated. He needed her. More than he’d imagined.
“Tag.” Rachel gave his hand a squeeze. “Maybe it’s best not to bombard him.” Sincerely, she continued. “It’s okay if I don’t go in. I came here for you.”
I came here for you.
She’d said it in Hawaii, and at the time the meaning had been so very different.
“I’ll go in with you,” Reese said. Merina was wiping her eyes with a tissue and visibly trying to pull herself together. He addressed Rachel next, sincerity in his eyes. “Merina can take you home if you need to leave.”
“She’s fine,” Tag bit out. But he turned and saw Rachel wasn’t fine. He wasn’t fine. None of this was fucking fine.
He bent and kissed Rachel softly. The way her arms wrapped around his waist told him all he needed to know. She was barely hanging on, and she’d done this for him.
“Dimples,” he said against her hair, keeping his voice low. “If you need to go, I get it.”
She nodded against his chest, squeezing him a little tighter. He let her go, sent her a tight smile, and left it at that. Her wide blue eyes confirmed she was better out here with Merina than in Eli’s hospital room.
Tag followed Reese down the hall.
Eli’s room was private, dim, the only light coming from the white swirling snow outside the window. Reese walked to the far side of the bed, leaving the chair closest to Eli available.
Eli’s face was dotted with cuts, some deeper than others, but mostly shallow, surface. His right arm was bandaged from elbow to fingers—all five of them sticking out of the cast, his left arm lying on his left leg over the blankets. But it was his right leg that weakened Tag’s knees and sent him straight to his ass on the chair by the bed.
Beneath his brother’s knee, the sheet was flat.
Tag covered his mouth as he mumbled, “Jesus, Eli,” into his hand.
Eli turned his head to take him in, dark blue eyes cold and distant, brown hair grown out some from the buzz cut he’d worn for years, his beard scraggly.
“Just Eli is fine. No need for formality,” he said, his voice a dry chafe. The humor didn’t hit its mark.
Eli licked his lips and reached for the plastic cup at his bedside, shifting his weight and moving his leg—what remained of it—beneath the sheet.
Tag’s eyes went to Eli again, his only thought how it was the same knee Eli had injured during a game of backyard touch football that had turned into tackle. Eli had limped for a month and bitched at Tag for causing his injury.
Hand stroking his own beard, Tag sent Reese a nod of thanks for accompanying him. Reese nodded back. No way did Tag want Rachel in here. Merina was right to suggest she not come in.
“It was a bomb,” Reese said, arms over his chest.
“Grenade,” Eli corrected, eyes going to the muted television overhead. “Benji and Christopher.” His mouth compressed as he shook his head. “Didn’t make it.”
Eli may have been in a hospital bed looking at a TV, but he wasn’t here. Tag could see by his vacant stare that his mind was back on a moment of tragedy he likely felt responsible for.
Tag reached out and took his brother’s arm above the cast, squeezing as hard as he dared to bring him back to the present. “But you did,” he managed, voice shaking, eyes filling with dampness.
Only then did Eli lock gazes with him. His own chin trembled when he said, “Not all of me.”
“Enough of you.” Tag’s voice was a raw whisper.
They had a brief staredown.
Then Tag held on to his older brother and cried like a baby.
Chapter 18
Rachel let Merina drive her home from the hospital. A huge part of her had wanted to stay for Tag, but one look around the room at his family confirmed he had plenty of support.
During the drive, Merina explained how Eli had lost his lower right leg, lucky considering two other soldiers hadn’t survived the blast. Merina and Rachel shared an awkward moment of silence before Merina admitted, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings by suggesting you not go in. It was a hard way to meet him for the first time, that’s all. And I’ve been with Reese for a while.”
Rachel understood, and told Merina as much. She hadn’t wanted to make Eli feel any additional discomfort, either. Per Rachel’s request, Merina dropped her at the Andromeda instead of her apartment. All Rachel wanted to do was talk to her friend, have a drink, and, now that she realized she’d gone two hours past dinnertime without food, have something to eat as well.
“Hey, toots!” Bree said as she filled a shot glass and delivered it to a customer. By the time she put the tequila bottle back on the shelf, she was frowning. She knew Rachel had been at Tag’s place, and now she was alone. “What’s going on?”
“Change of plans.” Rachel hoisted herself onto a barstool and plunked her purse in front of her.
“Oh, no.” Bree already had a wine bottle in hand—if that wasn’t friendship, Rachel didn’t know what was. “Did something go south?”
“Yes, but not like you think.”
“Miss?” called one of the patrons at the bar, and Bree gave Rachel the “give me a minute” look.
The rush died down gradually. Rachel wolfed down a salad with grilled chicken, and Bree refilled Rachel’s red wine glass with a generous amount.
“I’m all yours,” she said, placing the bottle on the bar between them. “Where is Tag? Why are you alone?”
“Tag is at the hospital. Or, was, anyway…I’m not sure where he is now.” Rachel briefed her bestie as succinctly as possible, watching as Bree’s face melted into a mask of concern.
The Billionaire Next Door Page 18