She found the kitchen and saw him at the stove, flipping pancakes. Grinning, she walked up to him and slid her arms around his waist.
“Good morning, Mr. Winter.”
She jumped back as he dropped the pan and spun around.
Oh, fuck.
Inca stepped back, horrified. Raffaelo Winter glowered at her.
“God, I’m so sorry … I thought you were Tommaso …” She felt the heat rush up her body and suddenly she felt like a whore. The man in front of her was as physically divine as his twin but somehow, danger radiated from every pore. His eyes were hooded, dark with menace and anger. Inca felt a frisson of fear.
“Hey.”
Both of them turned to see Tommaso watching them, a strange smile on his face. Inca felt a wave of humiliation.
“I’m sorry. I mistook your brother for you.”
Tommaso grinned. “Again.”
Inca flushed, but Tommaso wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t worry, Inca; it’s no big thing. Is it, Raff?”
Raffaelo said nothing, just stared at his brother, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. Tommaso smirked. “I should officially introduce you. Inca Sardee, my brother Raffaelo. Inca owns the Sakura teahouse in town.”
Inca held a trembling hand out to Raffaelo; for a horrible moment, she thought he was going to ignore it, but then he took it and nodded.
“Good to meet you.” His accent was a lot thicker than his brother’s, his voice deeper and softer. Inca was surprised. Was his glowering demeanor actually shyness? She dismissed the idea the next moment when Raffaelo stalked out of the room. Tommaso laughed softly.
“My brother isn’t the most social of people.” He kissed Inca’s forehead.
“You are very different,” Inca said, and Tommaso nodded.
“People are always surprised at that, but yes, we are. Now, can I make you some breakfast?”
* * *
After breakfast, Inca told him she had to go home. Tommaso walked her to her car. “Can I see you again?”
Inca hesitated. He was undoubtedly gorgeous and an incredible lover, but the scene this morning with Raffaelo had given her pause. She smiled at him. “Tommaso … I like you, and last night was mind-blowing. But I don’t know if I’m really suited to the whole ‘wrong way around’ thing. Maybe we should just get to know each other as friends and then see where it goes?”
Tommaso looked vaguely disappointed but took the rejection in good heart. “Whatever you think is best … but don’t expect me to stop trying.” He gave her a wicked grin which made her burst out laughing.
“Mr. Winter, I knew you were trouble.” Tommaso kissed her before she got into her car, and when she drove away, she saw him watching her.
Inca tried to park the car out of the way and sneak up to her apartment, but she failed miserably. Scarlett was waiting for her in the back hallway between the stairs and the tearoom. “Where the hell have you been?”
Inca gave a shocked laugh. “Okay, Mom, calm down.” She dumped her bag on a chair and took off her coat. Scarlett narrowed her eyes at her.
“You were wearing those clothes yesterday … oh my God. You slept with Tommaso Winter.”
“Ssh,”Inca frowned at her friend. The door to the teahouse’s main room was open and Inca glanced nervously around it to see if anyone had heard. Scarlett scowled at her.
“Do you know how worried we were?”
Inca rolled her eyes. “Dude, I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t need your permission to stay over at a billionaire’s place.” She grinned at Scarlett, but her friend shook her head.
“No, I know. It’s not that. Inks, didn’t you hear about the new murder?”
Inca stopped. “What?”
Scarlett nodded. “Two women now. Olly was called to the first up at the reservoir. Then, while they were there, they found the other one.”
“God, that’s horrible.” Realization dawned. “Oh, God. I am sorry, Scarlett. I honestly didn’t know or I would have called.”
Scarlett sighed. “As long as you’re okay.”
“I am, truly.”
Scarlett grinned. “So? Details, please.”
“Yeah,” Inca said dryly. “Because that’s what’s going to happen now.”
“Spoilsport.”
Nancy stuck her head around the door. “Ah, daughter mine. Glad to see you’re not dead. Any chance you two can do some work today?”
Tommaso had been waiting for Raffaelo to say something all day. After meeting Inca, his brother had disappeared into the depths of the mansion to work and Tommaso hadn’t seen him. Now, though, as Tommaso sat chatting with Debbie, their new chef, Raffaelo made an appearance in the large kitchen.
“Good evening.”
Tommaso smiled at his brother and Debbie nodded to him. She was a middle-aged woman, no nonsense and very discreet. Her food, the twins had discovered in a very short time, was out of this world.
“I was just trying to persuade Debbie to let me open a restaurant for her. It’s a crime her food is hidden away from the world.”
Debbie laughed. “Your brother is very generous, but he exaggerates.”
Raffaelo half-smiled at her. “About some things, but not this. Tommaso, may I speak with you outside for a moment? We shan’t be long, Debbie; I promise.”
* * *
Tommaso followed his brother outside. The night was cold and cloudy, threatening snow. Raffaelo lit a cigarette and studied his brother. “What the hell were you doing with that girl?”
Tommaso hid a grin. “Debbie?”
“You know damn well who I mean.”
“Oh, Inca. I would have thought it was obvious …”
Raffaelo shook his head in disgust. “That’s not why we came here, Tommaso. We said no complications. No situations that could compromise …”
“What?” Tommaso was irritated now. “I met a beautiful woman; I was attracted to her; I fucked her. I hope to fuck her again. Many, many times. What’s wrong with that?”
Raffaelo sighed. “Just don’t … get too involved. You know we can’t.”
Tommaso was silent. Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t promise anything. Inca’s a very sweet woman … and beautiful. I know you noticed that.”
Raffaelo hesitated, then nodded. “Heartbreakingly beautiful. Which concerns me, Tommaso. Women like that …”
“What? What, brother? Women like that are what?”
But Raffaelo didn’t answer him.
* * *
Olly Rosenbaum dumped his paperwork on the desk and clicked off the light. He’d been working for forty-eight hours straight with the homicide team from the city and he was drained. The horror of finding the two murdered women had finally hit him, and he wanted to go home and forget their faces.
At home, he threw back a scotch and poured another, knowing it probably wasn’t the best idea but to hell with it. Molly was in the city, working on the same case, and Olly toyed with the idea of calling Inca and talking to her, but he talked himself out of it. He couldn’t keep dumping on her; after all, he’d been the one to finish it.
Something else stopped him. Both the women who had been killed were of Asian descent and he kept seeing Inca’s face when he thought about them. Willowbrook had only ever had one murder before—long before his time—but this was a whole new level of terrifying. He hadn’t recognized either of the women, which meant their killer had brought them here to kill and dump them. That was way too close for Olly’s liking.
Don’t be ridiculous, he thought, you don’t even know if their ancestry had anything to do with it.
But he couldn’t stop imagining the killer seeing Inca and deciding she would be next on his list. No, stop it. It wasn’t as if he had any right to be her protector …
You’re the police chief; you have every right.
Dammit. He picked up the phone and called her. She answered after the second ring.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Inks, you busy?”
There was a hesitation. “I was going to have an early night. Can it wait?”
Olly couldn’t help but feel stung. “Yeah, sure. You okay?”
“I’m fine, why?”
“Doesn’t matter. Look, I’ll see you soon.”
“Goodnight.”
He ended the call and hissed out his frustration. Shit. He really had to get used to this idea of not being with Inca anymore. You don’t have the same rights now, buddy.
“I know, I know,” he said to himself and decided to go to bed. He fell asleep quickly, but was haunted by visions of Inca lying dead on the banks of the reservoir.
* * *
A week passed before Inca saw Tommaso again, although he called her every day and they talked for hours. The tearoom had been busy—Christmas season was coming up and the weather outside had turned to snow. Thick snowdrifts piled up at the sides of the roads. Inca was shoveling the sidewalk clear and sprinkling kitty litter down as she heard a car horn. She looked up to see Tommaso in his Mercedes pulling up to the curb. She grinned and shook her head.
“Mr. Winter … roof down? In this weather?”
Tommaso leaped out of the car, not giving a hoot about the slippery ice underfoot. “I like to live dangerously. Hello again.”
She liked that he kissed her cheek and not her mouth. There was something respectful about the embrace. She nodded towards the tearoom. “Come in. I’ll make you something hot.”
Tommaso grinned and Inca blushed, swatting him. “You know what I mean.”
They were still laughing when they walked into the teahouse and they chatted easily. Tommaso looked around. “Busy today.”
“Has been for a week or two.” She lowered her voice. “We’re getting a lot of homicide cops and journalists because of the murders.”
Tommaso nodded. “Did you know the victims?”
Inca shook her head. “No. They weren’t from around here.”
The door opened with a swirl of cold air and a young woman with black hair staggered in. Inca smiled at her. “Hey, Lunatic, long time no see.”
Luna Rosenbaum shook the excess snow of her coat, then looked down at the mess she had made. “Sorry, Inks.”
Inca laughed. “Don’t worry about it.” She went to hug her friend. “Come and meet Tommaso.”
Inca introduced Luna and she studied the Italian carefully. “So, you’re the new billionaire in town?”
Tommaso choked on his coffee. ’You could say that. One of them, anyway.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She took the coffee Inca offered her. “Thanks, Inks. Have you met the brother?”
Inca colored and Tommaso grinned. “I’ll say she has.” Luna looked between them both, seemingly to make up her mind about something. She gave Inca a strange look that Inca couldn’t decipher.
“Well, anyway, I just came to say hi before I went to Olly’s. I assume he’s snowed under—ha, ha—with this murder case. I’ll catch up with you later, Inca.”
Inca watched her go, a frown on her face. “That was weird.”
Tommaso sipped his tea. “Are you okay?”
Inca shook herself. “Yes, sure. Sorry, it’s just, well, I used to be with Olly, as it were. Maybe Luna’s not dealing …” She stopped and shrugged. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”
Tommaso reached out and took her hand. “So, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner one night this week?”
Inca smiled. “I would like that … but can I just say? I have a rule—Dutch, all the way. So, if you were planning on something … billionaire style,” she grinned at him, “think again. Plus, I would have nothing to wear at one of those places.”
Tommaso rolled his eyes. “Fine. How about your friend’s place?”
Inca clinked her coffee mug against his. “Deal.”
* * *
When he’d gone, she marveled at how quickly they had become friends. Even if they hadn’t had that wonderful night together, she felt like she had known Tommaso Winter her whole life. Was it her imagination? Did that instant connection come from her need for love? God, she hoped not. She hated to think of herself as a needy woman; hell, she wasn’t a needy woman. But Olly had, however gently, shifted her expectations of what men wanted.
She was still deep in thought when Nancy came in, and she asked her adoptive mother if she thought she was just looking for an Olly replacement. Nancy thought about it.
“I don’t think so, Inca. You’ve never been someone who needs a man at all times. Maybe it’s just that you and this Winter boy clicked in a way that you haven’t experienced.”
Inca reddened slightly, and Nancy laughed. “Inca, I’m not talking about sex, and it’s okay. You know, I’m not dead below the waist just because I’m over fifty. He’s a very handsome young man. Just remember, you might want him, but you don’t need him. You are your own person.”
Inca smiled at her gratefully.
“Hey, anyone serving?”
Olly grinned at her as she went to greet him, and as she poured some hot tea for him, she studied him. “You look tired.”
He gave a small laugh. “Got time to talk now?” But his words were without rancor and she sighed.
“Olly, for you, of course. Just … I can’t be the person you call last thing at night anymore, you know? For both of us, we need to take a step back.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, Luna says you have a new friend, one of the Winters?”
Inca looked surprised. “Haven’t you met them yet?”
Olly shook his head. “I don’t know whether this sounds bad, but for once, the department has been busy. I wish it wasn’t for the reason it was.”
“Me neither. Any progress?” Inca saw Nancy join them, listening to what Olly was saying.
“We’ve identified one of the women. Kristin Chu, a lawyer from Seattle. Her family is pretty broken up.”
“I would think. How did she die?”
Olly hesitated. “Stabbed. Multiple times. Poor kid was almost gutted.”
Inca looked sick. “God.”
Nancy shook her head and Olly looked at her. “The other woman was Asian too.”
Nancy and Olly shared a look and Inca sighed. “Just say it.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to be extra-vigilant.”
“I thought serial killers were only called that after at least five victims?”
“Don’t be a wise-ass.” Nancy gave her daughter’s butt a swat. “Just be careful.”
Inca rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay.”
Olly smiled at her. “So, when are you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”
“Not boyfriend. Friend.” But Inca felt relief that Olly seemed to be okay with it. “And anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Luna. Is she okay? She was a bit off earlier.”
Olly looked uncomfortable. “She’s having trouble with us splitting. You know how unstable she feels all the time.”
“Gotcha. Tell her I miss her, will you? We need to have some girly nights in.”
Olly nodded. “I will. Thanks, Inks. Look, all joking aside, you’ll make this old man happy if you make sure your deadbolt is on at night, okay?”
“Promise.”
* * *
Inca remembered his words that night and, when she went up to her apartment that night, she shot the deadbolt across and double locked it. Weary, she took a long bath, then heated up some leftovers in the microwave and sat in front of the television. Outside, the snow was piling up again and she gave an involuntary shiver as she watched the snow fall silently over her little home town.
Willowbrook was the only town stuck out on a tiny peninsula on the Washington coastline. The one road out of town would sometimes get blocked with snow during winter and then the town became like an island. Inca had always loved the place since Nancy and Tyler had adopted her and brought her home from the children’s home in Seattle. She had never questioned their love for her was as strong as hers for them, and she had never shown any interest in finding out her family history. Lately,
though, feeling lonely was becoming a habit, and she’d wondered if she should push Nancy harder for information.
Maybe I’ll ask Tyler, she thought, grinning to herself. Tyler was softer than Nancy. Younger by ten years than his seventy-year-old wife, Tyler, a tall African American with a slender figure and a kind face doted on ‘his girls’. As far as Inca was concerned, he was her father, and nothing would change that.
Her cell phone buzzed and she picked it up without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
Nothing. Inca frowned. “Whoever this is, this is a bad line; I can’t hear you. Hello?”
Nothing. She shut off her phone and forgot about it. She switched the TV off and the small lamp and sat in the darkness watching the snow fall. Her attention was caught by a movement down on the street. A figure stood under the streetlamp. He looked up, as if sensing her scrutiny, and their eyes met. Inca felt a thrill go through her: fear or desire, she couldn’t tell.
Raffaelo Winter stared up at her, his expression unreadable.
* * *
The next day, she was still thinking about him. It was her day off and, as she did her chores, she wondered what he had been thinking of, standing outside her apartment like that. Weird. Her phone rang again and this time it was her realtor, Mindy. The apartment Inca lived in was leased from the owner of the building but had offered Inca first refusal on it when he decided to sell. She’d scraped together the deposit and had put her offer in, and now she knew Mindy was calling her to finalize the details.
“Hey, Mindy. What’s going on?” Inca sat on a kitchen chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. She heard Mindy draw in a deep breath.
“Inca, honey, I’ve got bad news. The thing is,” Inca heard her sigh, “the apartment’s gone. It’s been sold.”
For a moment, Inca didn’t process what the realtor had said. Then her heart thudded, heavy with dismay. “It can’t have. I mean, I thought the offer I made was a lock …”
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