by Lizzie Shane
And there it was. Ren didn’t even think it was conscious, but Javi always seemed to sense when Ren was about to draw a line in the sand. All he had to do was invoke Lore’s name and Ren’s throat closed off and the idea of cutting off his father’s brother, his bandmate and his best friend became unthinkable.
“I miss him too,” he admitted hoarsely.
“I’m a lucky bastard to have you, Junior. You’re so like him. He would have been so proud of you. So proud to see the man you’ve become.”
Javi wouldn’t steal from the foundation. He wouldn’t. There had to be a mistake. And even if there wasn’t… this was Javi.
“I’m lucky to have you too, tio.”
A police cruiser pulled into the neighborhood behind him and Ren cursed internally as blue lights flashed in his rearview. “Shit, I’ve gotta go, Javi. Something’s come up here. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Javi signed off and Ren tossed his phone on the passenger seat, placing both hands on the steering wheel where they would be in clear view of the officer unfolding himself from the cruiser. Ren had a fair amount of interaction with cops in California—Elite Protection prided itself on a good relationship with law enforcement—but this wasn’t Los Angeles. This was an uptight, white-bread part of Virginia and in retrospect that woman walking her dog had looked awfully suspicious of the brown man talking on his cell phone on her block.
Ren kept his hands in clear view and his expression steady and calm—two things his state patrol buddies had told him made them feel more at ease—as the officer approached.
Please don’t let this go to shit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Eight-and-a-half months ago…
“Junior!”
Javier Tate looked exactly like Candy had expected an aging rocker to look. Instead of clinging to his past glory with long hair and eyeliner, he was clinging to relevance with an outfit that would have been right at home on a boyband member. His head was shaved—doubtless to conceal any telltale traces of grey—and he was lean—as shown off by his skinny jeans—but even with his lighter frame, there was a wiry toughness about him, as if instead of wasting away he had been condensed down to his most aerodynamic form.
Darker than Ren, and much less pretty, it was hard to see a family resemblance in the shape of his features—until he smiled. They had the same smile.
He hugged Ren, slapping him on the back—the gestures big, as if he was performing them for the crowd he’d just left in the theatre rather than where no one could see him backstage in his dressing room. “It’s been too long, kid.”
“Hard to keep up with you when you’re touring,” Ren protested.
Javi snorted derisively. “I’d hardly call it a tour. Fucking clubs and little theatres like this. Hardly worth showing up. Not like it used to be.”
Candy grimaced, hanging back. Javi certainly wasn’t trying very hard to break her stereotype of him as the has-been in constant search of a return to his glory days. She must have made some sound, because his gaze locked onto her.
“And this must be Candy!”
She covered her flinch at his enthusiasm as he descended on her and yanked her against his lean, sweaty body for a hug, swamping her in the scent of cigarettes and Jack Daniels that seemed to seep from his pores. “Nice to meet you,” she murmured, patting his shoulder awkwardly.
He leaned back to leer at her, evidently approving of the rocker chick look she’d chosen for tonight. “I can see why Junior’s been hiding you from me. Quite a piece you got here, kid. You’re lucky I didn’t see her first.”
Ren tugged Candy against his side—doubtless to keep her from accidentally snapping his uncle’s wrist after he patted her on the butt. They chatted for a couple minutes before Javi declared that he’d better let the groupies backstage before they broke down the door. He invited them to party with him and Candy was relieved when Ren declined. She’d already had enough time with a man whose only mode of conversation seemed to be talking about himself and what a god he’d once been.
Neither of them spoke much until they were back in the car. The pounding bass had given her a headache so Ren drove, even though they’d driven her car.
“I didn’t realize you’d told your uncle about me,” she commented, watching his profile as he drove.
“I told you I’ve wanted you to meet him for months. Why wouldn’t I tell him about you? Haven’t you mentioned me to your family at some point?”
She blushed, turning her gaze out the passenger window. He had no idea exactly how much she’d been telling her family about him. But that was different. That was the Lie.
“Javi liked you,” Ren commented and she pinned her lips together, unable to formulate a positive response to the butt-grabber. She studied the dashboard, missing her Tesla, the gorgeous, clean lines of it.
She’d had to sell it to Max last month, even though she’d only had it for a couple months. She’d known she couldn’t afford it when she bought it, but it had just been so pretty she hadn’t been able to resist. Thankfully, Max had been willing to take it off her hands when she couldn’t make the payments. He went through cars even more rapidly than she did, though he tended to veer more toward the Detroit muscle variety.
It had been a shame to let it go, but she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Her heart writing checks that she knew she couldn’t cash.
A fitting metaphor for her relationship—or whatever the hell this was—with Ren. Getting in over her head with him because she wanted it to be something she could manage, even though she knew someday the emotional debt she was racking up would catch up to her.
It was only a matter of time.
*
Present day…
Ren wasn’t back for the rehearsal dinner.
Candy tried not to panic. She tried to tell herself that he wouldn’t just vanish on her—if for no other reason than because he’d left all his clothes in the carriage house closet. He loved that grey sweater. He’d be back for that, wouldn’t he?
Even if he didn’t come back for her…
“Where’s that sexy husband of yours? Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise.” Alicia sank onto the empty chair next to Candy, a glass of red wine balanced in her dainty fingers.
“He had a family matter to take care of.” At least she hoped he was taking care of it and not already on a flight back to California.
“He does have an important family.” Alicia smiled—and Candy was starting to hate that smile.
The rehearsal had gone smoothly. Or as smoothly as could be expected with her mother second-guessing the wedding planner at every turn. Candy had wondered if Aiden would boycott, but whatever her brother’s issues with her parents, he must’ve decided to play nice for Charlotte’s sake because he’d been there, right on cue, smiling and ready to learn his usher duties and herd his daughters through the flower girl routine.
The nanny had been there also, helping to manage the girls and earning a steady stream of suspicious glares from the matriarch of the Montgomery-Raines family. Candy could see what Aiden saw in her—a pretty young woman with silky dark hair and a sweet, self-effacing manner—but they weren’t acting like a couple in love, the tension between them palpable as they guided the girls through the flower girl routine.
Then Charlotte had swanned down the aisle on her father’s arm, Candy had performed her reading, and the happy couple had sketched through their vows—the bride looking slightly smug while the groom looked slightly bored. Candy only hoped they both had a little more grace for the actual event.
Alicia—in her role as maid of honor—had seemed somewhat less than blissful as she stood at Charlotte’s side, but that may have had something to do with the conspicuous lack of a ring on Alicia’s finger. Candy had learned that Alicia had been married and blissfully in love—for exactly six weeks before she found her husband bending his secretary over his desk. The divorce had been finalized last week.
Alicia swirled her wine now,
scanning the room speculatively. “Your father’s looking very receptive tonight.”
Candy looked where Alicia indicated with a single manicured fingertip and saw her father, who looked like he was three bourbons over his limit and feeling no pain as he flirted into the cleavage of a woman younger than Aiden. The object of his latest infatuation gazed worshipfully up at him. Young, pretty, and awed—just his type.
Candy turned back to Alicia, not bothering to veil her irritation. “I’ll talk to him later.”
Alicia shrugged, smiling sweetly. “Your call,” she sing-songed. “I just always think if a friend is relying on me that it’s best to take care of things right away. Don’t you?”
“You know, as blackmailers go, you really need to work on your subtlety.”
“Blackmail?” Alicia laughed. “I’m not going to tell anyone your secret, Candice. I thought you might want to thank me, but if you don’t, I’m still not going to tell. Is that why your husband isn’t here? Is he hiding from the evil blackmailer? That’s a silly reason to miss your sister’s rehearsal dinner. We’re all friends here. We’re practically family.” Alicia smiled at someone past Candy’s shoulder. “I really must speak with Jane Elton.” She smiled angelically, flicking her gaze once again toward Candy’s father. “Don’t you see someone you need to talk to?”
Candy glared after Alicia’s dainty form in retreat.
She might have said she wouldn’t tell, but Jane Elton was as big a gossip as Alicia was and just seeing the two of them whispering together made her wish she had her Tums. It wouldn’t hurt to be in Alicia’s good graces.
Ren still wasn’t here and the last thing Candy wanted to do was accidentally blow up his life by revealing his real identity when he was already pissed at her for her—completely blameless—part in uncovering his uncle’s deception.
She might not be able to turn Javi into a decent human being, but she could keep Alicia on a leash.
Candy stood and collected her own glass of wine before crossing to where her father was pontificating on foreign trade agreements to a young woman who either had no idea what he was talking about or was doing a very good job of pretending she had no idea what he was talking about while filing all the details away for some future use. In DC it was always hard to distinguish between the two.
“Dad.”
Her father continued to hold court, so Candy waited until he paused for breath and tried again.
“Dad.”
He glanced up, smiling benevolently. “Candy! How’s my girl?”
If the infant he’d been wowing with his political prowess was surprised to find his daughter was older than she was, she didn’t show it. “Can I have a word with you?”
“Of course! Always time for my girls!”
Candy glanced around, wondering if her mother had any idea just how toasted her father was, but she didn’t see any sign of the matriarch of the Montgomery-Raines clan as she gently steered her father away from his admirer.
“What’s on your mind, Candy girl?”
Crap.
Candy grimaced. How was she supposed to broach this particular topic? Her father knew she and Alicia weren’t exactly besties. He would be immediately suspicious if Candy started asking favors on her behalf. And he knew as well as anyone that Candy hated being involved in politics in any way, shape or form. Asking for political favors was so far out of character her father would immediately wonder what was wrong—even if he was three sheets to the wind. He was still the smartest man she’d ever met in her life, for all his flaws.
She didn’t want to lie—Christ, she was so sick of lies—but this particular truth wasn’t hers to tell. Maybe if she skirted close to the truth…
Except there was no even remotely truthful, plausible way to introduce the subject. Candy decided to go for blunt and vague.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything for you, Candy, my girl. You know that.”
“It isn’t for me actually. What do you know about a seized Whitcomb Tech shipment?”
Her father’s cheerful bonhomie evaporated and he frowned at her over the rim of his glass. “Now why do you want to know about that?”
“It’s for Alicia. She’s doing me a favor and in exchange I told her I would talk to you about the shipment.”
Her father’s frown darkened. “Is she blackmailing you? Are you in trouble?”
She shouldn’t be surprised that her father saw through Alicia’s sweet and innocent act, but part of her was. “I’m fine, Dad. Just out of curiosity, how impossible would it be for you to do something about the shipment?” Technically, Candy hadn’t agreed to get her father to release the shipment, she’d just agreed to talk to him about it. And here she was.
Unfortunately, she didn’t think Alicia would agree with her semantic argument.
“Not impossible,” her father admitted. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it. Frankly, Tug would have more direct access to the contacts required in that situation. Now why are you asking me? What’s going on?”
“It can’t be bridal party solidarity?”
Her father gave a soft huff of laughter. “No. It can’t.” He gently touched her elbow, as if he would have taken her arm, but expected her to shake him off. “Are you sure you’re all right? I worry about you, Candice Marie.”
“Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’m the tough one.”
“I know. But you know you don’t always have to be tough with me, don’t you?”
Candy frowned, caught by the echo of Ren’s words.
“I used to be the one you leaned on. You still can, if you want.” There was something vulnerable and hopeful in her father’s hesitant smile, something that almost made her want to lean on him like he asked, but she knew better.
Just that afternoon he’d been trying to get Aiden to give up his new girlfriend-slash-nanny-slash-whatever because she would be bad for his career. He hadn’t changed. He might seem like the good guy when he stood next to her mother, but they were the same. Their goals, their ideals—they were both family first, everything else second, but to them family was the Family Name more than any individual member’s happiness.
Prestige and power. That was what they played for.
No. She wouldn’t be fooled by his smile.
He’d proven long ago that image was more important to him than blood.
“I’m good, Dad.” She gently shrugged off his touch on her elbow. “I should go find Ren.”
She immediately wished she’d used any other excuse—the last thing she wanted to do was draw her father’s attention to the fact that her husband was MIA—but he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He sent her off with an air kiss above her left cheek that smelled of high end bourbon and returned to his devotee in the tight black dress.
Candy looked around for Alicia to tell her the deed was done—or at least that she’d held up her part of the bargain—but the maid of honor was nowhere to be seen in the country club dining room that had been rented out for the rehearsal dinner.
A subtle sliver of worry began to work its way into her brain when she couldn’t find Alicia—was she off somewhere spilling Ren’s secrets even now? Candy would feel so much better if she could just see Alicia, but instead she saw Aiden.
He was drinking again, like he had the night she arrived, though he wasn’t swaying on his feet this time. He sat at the bar, hunched over his drink, his fingers tapping out a pattern on the glass. Looking like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Candy was moving toward him almost before the conscious thought to do so finished forming. “You okay, little brother? That was quite a throw down this morning.”
Aiden looked up, eyes narrowed. “Did they send you to talk to me?”
Candy snorted. “Have you met me?”
“Sorry,” he muttered into his drink.
Candy hitched herself onto the stool beside him, signaling to the bartender for one of whatever he was drinking. She didn’t dr
ink much, never had—just the odd beer here and there. She didn’t like the feeling of being out of control, never trusted the people around her not to take advantage if she let down her guard, but tonight she needed something to take the edge off. She waited to speak until the bartender had dropped off the drink and she’d taken her first bracing sip of the liquid—shuddering a little as the potent alcohol seared down to her stomach.
“So. The nanny, huh?”
“I know. It’s a cliché.”
It was also practically a family tradition, but she didn’t think Aiden knew that. He’d been so young then. “Is she what you were trying to talk to me about when you called?” She tried to remember the name Aiden had shouted this morning… something with an S? “Serena?”
“Samira,” he corrected, following it with a shrug. “Sort of. Things are complicated.”
“Does she feel the same way about you that you do about her?”
Aiden nodded, but his head drooped and he managed to look even more miserable at the prospect of Samira’s love. “She believes in me,” he whispered dejectedly.
“How dare she.”
He snorted, but didn’t rise out of his slump. “She thinks I can make a difference. That I can change the world.”
“I’m not seeing the downside here, Aiden. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”
He looked up then, his eyes bleak. “She knows my career will be more challenging with her around. She knew it even before mother screamed it in her face this morning. Every time I get close to her and she starts to let me in, she takes two steps back. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”
Candy cringed. She didn’t. But she had a feeling Ren did. Funny, though, how from the outside, the man in love looked so much more in the right than the woman who was pushing him away for his own good. Or maybe that was just because it was Aiden and her little brother deserved every happiness. But then, didn’t Ren deserve it too?