Beauty and the Brit

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Beauty and the Brit Page 2

by Selvig, Lizbeth


  And his voice made her see, a little bit, why women dragged their drooling tongues on the ground over British accents. They wreaked havoc on a person’s nervous system.

  On the other hand, she’d lost her self-control a couple of times now over the accent, and losing control annoyed her. She took in her brother and sister, the former tight as a time bomb, the latter slumped into her folding chair. She had no time to slobber over men from a different league and class.

  “Tell me where you were going tonight, Bonnie.” Doc’s perpetually kind voice eased some of the rigidity from Bonnie’s posture.

  “Hector said we were going to meet a friend of his. Said the guy was totally cool and had a sick collection of albums. He knows I love new music. But we didn’t go to Heco’s place. We met his friend in the school parking lot. We were just starting to talk about favorite groups and stuff, and we were sitting in the back of his friend’s car because he had an expensive new sound system in it. That’s when Rio showed up.”

  “That’s when Rio saved your little ass,” Rio replied.

  “Whatever.”

  “Paul.” Chase turned to him. “Were you part of this?”

  “No, man. I just found out Hector was dealing with Boyfriend. I went to tell him to leave Bonnie alone. But my stupid idiot of a sister had to bust in and humiliate everyone. Now we’re all in trouble.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Aside from getting a fist in my face after she left?”

  “What?” Rio stared more closely at her brother. Sure enough, she could see the faint outline of a lump blossoming beneath his right eye.

  He sneered. “They punched me out when they thought I’d narked to my sister. But that’s the least of it. You had to get into a damn physical fight with Hector, and now he’s vowed to pay you back.”

  “Oh, what’s he going to do, Inigo?” She used his street name derisively. “Come and scratch my face, too?”

  “You underestimate him. He’s real mad.”

  “I’ve lived here for twenty-six years. I know how to handle a threat from Hector Black.”

  “Not this time.”

  Paul bore the same olive-skinned Mexican beauty Bonnie did. Both had inherited the dark hair, eyes, and classic bone structure from their mother, her papa’s second wife. Rio had missed out on that beautiful mix of chromosomes and gotten instead a set of spliced genes from her Irish mother’s family. She literally was the redheaded stepchild.

  But Irish or Mexican, stubbornness ran rampant through the Montoyas’ bloodstreams. If Paul, obstinate since birth, thought this mess was her fault, it would take lightning and a voice from the Almighty Himself to change his mind. Losing his mother seven years before hadn’t helped, but age had done nothing to soften him. She turned to Chase.

  “When I realized Bonnie had defied the rules and gone out, I had to follow. In all honesty, that’s something she doesn’t normally do. Then, when I saw her actually get into that car, I don’t know whether I was more angry or panicked. Hector, who isn’t the freshest tortilla in the pack, is the one who let slip who was in the car, and I know girls who go off with Boyfriend don’t come back.”

  Chase turned stern eyes on Bonnie. “What do you think?”

  “I think I could have taken care of myself.” Bonnie’s defensiveness was trying to turn to defiance. She crossed one leg over the other and shook her foot in frustration, slapping her rhinestoned flip-flop against her sole like a castanet.

  “Bonnie, I’m not sure I would want to try and take care of myself in a locked car with a guy like that.” Chase raised his brows.

  “She didn’t have to attack Heco. I would have gotten out.”

  “But you wouldn’t have.” Rio kept her voice calm with effort. She needed to be the parent right now, not get drawn into a pissing contest. “Hector was physically blocking me from getting to you and blocking you from getting out so, yes, I absolutely fought him. If he’s mad as hell, so be it. I’d do it again.”

  She turned finally to her brother. “And you can protest all you want, but you were not going to stand up to Hector.”

  “You’ll never know that, will you?”

  She held her tongue with difficulty.

  “Are you positive you three don’t want a place to stay tonight?” Chase looked from Paul to Rio.

  “I’m positive.” She had faith in her locks, one of the few things she’d splurged on in the old house she’d inherited from her mother’s meager estate. She also had faith—she had to—that Paul carried enough street cred to get them through this. She sighed, burying her pride with effort to ask for one more thing. “If I could just be sure she gets home safely,” she said, inclining her head toward Bonnie, “we’ll be fine after that.”

  “Is your car nearby?” Chase asked.

  “No, it’s at the house. It was faster to run the three blocks.”

  “Will Hector retaliate?” Chase turned to Paul.

  “He could. Send his boys to threaten her.”

  “Aren’t you one of his boys?” Bonnie leveled her gaze at Paul, showing anger with her brother for the first time. “If Heco loves me like he says he does, he won’t hurt you or Rio.”

  Paul sank even more deeply into his chair, his features swimming in sour annoyance. “I’ll handle it.”

  “I can get you home,” Chase said. “I’m still not convinced I should leave you there.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Rio sat on the edge of her chair. “I’ll take Bonnie to school tomorrow before work. You, Inigo, will make sure she gets home afterward. Safely. Do you hear me?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt I can be trusted.” He glowered.

  “You might be an idiot.” She glowered back. “But I know you love your sister. Just keep her away from that scumbag Hector for one hour tomorrow. Can you do that?”

  “I’m right here, dumbasses.” Bonnie straightened in her chair. “Quit making plans for me like I’m a kindergartner or I’ll leave and take care of myself.”

  Weariness fell on Rio like a thick, suffocating blanket. Her lungs wanted one minute of simple, stress-free breathing, but she couldn’t get one breath that didn’t contain the stifling, gang-ridden, fear-scented air of Minneapolis.

  “Fine.” She threw up her hands. “You’re right. We can’t do this without your cooperation, so if you want to go trust your future to Hector, we’ll back off. I don’t want to pull you out of any more cars, rooms, or God forbid, a drawer in a morgue, so let me know as soon as possible and I’ll get on with my life, too.”

  Bonnie snapped her mouth shut.

  “That’s enough.” Chase stood from his seat on the desk. “Paul, take Bonnie and get something to drink from the kitchen. Rio, hang on a second.”

  When the two had shuffled from the room, Chase knelt in front of her chair.

  “I’m sorry.” Exhaustion sent her head into her palms.

  “No apologizing. We’ve focused completely on Bonnie and Paul, but it’s you I worry about. This is not a small gang scuffle, honey, this is serious. Maybe it’s time for you to get some help.”

  She popped her head up, adrenaline surging. She’d worked her butt off the past seven years at every restaurant or dive that would hire her, and she’d never had to ask for assistance, steal to get by, or sell herself.

  Over Chase’s head, she caught the eyes of David-Not-Philip. The warm-cocoa gaze shone with sympathy, and her face flamed, knowing how he was seeing her and her family. Despite his kind eyes and her schoolgirl attraction, his cool, quiet demeanor aggravated her. She was holding her world together with sheer will and sarcasm, and he was observing from the corner like a visitor at the zoo.

  She forced her attention back to Chase. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle things.”

  “Don’t stretch yourself too thin.” He placed one hand on her knee. “You’ve been mom, sister, truant officer, and rescuer for a lot of years. You’re too special around here to lose to burnout—or something worse.”

  “Th
ank you.” His words warmed a cold spot in her heart. “I’ve dealt with Paul’s friends a long time.”

  “I know better than to argue with you.” He stood. “I have to be here another forty-five minutes. Can you hang tight? I’ll take you home then.”

  “Whatever we need to do.”

  David moved from the corner for the first time. “I have my car out back,” he said. “Why don’t I just run you home?”

  Rio turned back to him, her pulse rising one tiny, excited half beat. The man shocked her every time he opened his mouth. “I couldn’t make you do that.”

  “I understand if you’re not comfortable with a stranger after what you’ve been through. But I’m certainly happy to help. You said you have to work in the morning, that’s all.”

  She could think of ten reasons having this man drive down Lake Street to her neighborhood at this time of night was a bad idea. Aside from the fact he’d show up like a spotlight in a coal mine, he could get lost, he could get his car keyed, he could find Hector lying in wait and get his English ass handed to him . . . and she’d have to rescue him right along with everyone else.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Chase said. “Less time for Paul to get antsy and leave to go solve things on his own.”

  That point was worth considering.

  “I’d be honored to do more than stand around gawping.”

  Honored? She sighed. She didn’t want to be responsible for him out on the streets, but when that patient smile slipped onto his lips, her brain tilted off balance yet again.

  “All right,” she said, before she could stop herself. “But let me warn you, where we’re going isn’t an English garden. It’s about as un-pretty as it gets.”

  “It’s quite all right.” He nodded, unperturbed. “I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”

  She remembered her manners just in time to stop a snort of disbelief.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  “THERE, ON THE right. With the outside light.”

  David peered down the dark street in the direction of Rio’s outstretched finger. “The two-story, just there?”

  “Yes.”

  He found an empty spot along the curb and executed an impressive parallel park for a Brit from Yorkshire.

  “I can’t see if anyone’s there.” Bonnie, in the backseat, pressed her nose to the window.

  “No lights in the house,” Rio said. “Doesn’t look like Paul’s come back.”

  The young man with whom David had crashed to the floor half an hour before had disappeared as soon as Chase had turned his back. David’s gut clenched. First the guy had, if Rio’s story was to be believed, nearly allowed his young sister to be prostituted. Now he’d run out on keeping them safe. Brother or not, Paul Montoya was a lowlife if ever one had crawled out of the primordial ooze.

  He swallowed the anger. There was nothing he could do about the girls’ brother, so he concentrated on getting them safely to the house the three siblings shared. It had been left to them after their parents’ death, he’d learned. He searched the dark, tree-lined street. At least Rio’s small house had a well-lit sidewalk and seemed secure.

  “This is nice,” he said, hoping to put a little lightness back in Rio’s face. “You made it sound as though you lived in a carton in the middle of the street.”

  She offered a rueful smile. “It’s not a lot bigger than that, but at least we have locks on our carton. Some people don’t.”

  “I don’t see anyone lurking about.” David automatically scanned the overgrowth around the house foundation looking for movement in the shadows. “But let’s get you in as promised.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” She faced him with the frank, sapphire stare that had fascinated him at first sight. Her entire spring-loaded body fascinated him, with its lithe, wary grace and rich, paprika hair so different from her siblings’ black curls. “You probably don’t want to leave this car unattended.”

  “Why ever not?” He laughed. “It’s a Subaru not a Lamborghini.”

  “Is it stolen?” she countered. “Has the odometer been tampered with? Does it have a single scratch on it? Believe me—this might as well be a Porsche made of platinum out here.”

  Her seriousness made its impression and he nodded. “All right, so noted. With that in mind, I’ll take two minutes’ worth of chance.”

  Exiting the car into the unseasonably cool, early-August night, he stared up through the boulevard trees and made out ragged wisps of clouds bearding a waning moon. He gave his upper arms a couple of warming scrubs and hurried around the front of the car to where Rio had already thrown the passenger door open. When he offered her a hand, she stared as if she had no idea what he wanted. As if she hadn’t been treated like a lady in a long time.

  Bonnie, on the other hand, beamed when he reached for her hand.

  “You know, I wouldn’t do this chivalry thing in front of the punks around here.” Rio’s eyes clearly mocked him as he guided Bonnie protectively to the front of their parade of three. “I can’t imagine what kind of field day the Whites and Browns would have over such eccentric manners. Not to mention with you if you opened your mouth.”

  “Are you making fun of my accent?” After ten years in the United States, he was used to the attention his voice drew and, thanks to BBC America, people gave it readily.

  “Just keeping it real. Around here, they’d call your accent ‘pansy-assed’ and give you a beating for fun.”

  Was she just trying to shock him now? He wasn’t shocked, but he was confused at the way she’d grown ever cooler and warier. “Well, thanks much for the warning,” he said. “Clearly I need to keep very quiet while I walk you to the door.”

  A quick, amused light flared in her eyes, and she allowed her sensuous mouth to twitch upward. “You should be a lot more nervous than you are. That’s all.” She turned and headed for the house.

  “You live here,” he replied. “If you’re not afraid, why should I be? I’m just a possible deterrent to someone jumping out of the bushes.”

  “All the more reason not to look or sound like a dude from Men in Tights.”

  “Ah,” he replied, smiled, and raised the pitch of his voice slightly to quote. “But they’ll listen to me because, unlike some other Robin Hoods, I can speak with an English accent.”

  Bonnie giggled. Rio stopped and stared as if he’d just belched in church. He laughed and took her upper arm gently, continuing toward her door. “It’s from the movie?” he offered. “Robin Hood: Men in Tights?”

  “I know that. I just think you must be insane.”

  “Inappropriate perhaps. Not insane. A bit of levity on a tense night, sorry. I don’t mean to make light of your fear.”

  “Hey.” She pulled free of his hold. “You said it yourself a minute ago. I’m not afraid. So don’t think you have to be any kind of superhero.”

  He grinned at her ruffled feathers. Her hair, piled on her head like thick, maroon silk, shone in the light from the porch, a few stray strands hinting at its length. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. On the one hand she was wise enough to seek sanctuary when she needed it. On the other hand, she clearly had her act—or her foolish bravery—together.

  She moved like a gorgeous, jungle-raised cat, watchful and smart, graceful but far from tamed. She very likely didn’t need him to play bodyguard. Nonetheless her unexpected and fascinating presence in his life had his interest temporarily piqued. No way was he shirking this responsibility.

  They reached a four-step stoop. Brick-red paint flaked off the cement in sharp-edged chips. Bonnie pulled open the aluminum storm door revealing a worn but solid wooden inner door. Rio jangled a small ring of keys and isolated one, but before she could insert it into the lock, the door swung open under Bonnie’s hand. For the first time since he’d met her, Rio’s skin drained of color.

  “I locked that door.” Her voice didn’t shake, but it lowered to a croaking whisper. “I always lock the door.”

  An unwelcome
flash from his days patrolling in Basra overtook him, and he swept Bonnie behind him. “I’m going in first,” he said. “Stay here until I call you.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  Her indignant cry dispelled all thoughts of wartime. He chuckled despite their tension. “Probably.” At her intake of breath he glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not nuts. Just let me have a look ’round first, right?”

  He stepped into a tiny entry foyer maybe six feet square. The room beyond was dark and quiet. Cocking his head, he listened before sweeping one hand along the wall to his right in search of a light switch. When he felt nothing obvious, he half-turned. “Is there a light—?”

  He banged into Rio not two inches behind him.

  “Ow!” she cried, and rocked backward. “Cripe sakes!”

  He grabbed her to keep from tripping like he’d done with her brother. “I told you to wait outside.”

  “It’s my house, excuse me to pieces.”

  She was so close wisps of her hair brushed his chin, and the heat of her words tickled his throat. The soft touches made her seem vulnerable when she was the furthest thing from vulnerable he’d met in a very long time. He cleared his throat and released her. “We’ve definitely lost any element of surprise we might have had. Where’s the light?”

  She scooted around him, brushing torso to torso far too intimately. A moment later light flooded the entryway as well as the room beyond. David blinked and then lost all control of the situation when Rio pushed into the living room and searched the perimeter like a bloody narcotics dog.

  “No one’s here,” she announced. “But I see Paul’s cap. Wasn’t that the one he was wearing tonight, Bons?”

  A battered San Diego Chargers hat lay on a threadbare sofa. David remembered the incongruous California team logo.

  “Yeah.” Bonnie tossed her fabric bag purse beside the cap.

  “My butt-headed brother left the door unlocked.” Rio shot an exasperated glance around the room. “He’s not detail oriented, to put it mildly.”

 

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