by Hahn, Joni
Cass paced the passage off of the main garage as she waited for Dar and Aidan to return. Two hours ago, a D.I.R.E. convoy had been sent to investigate the crash site. She and Mitchell had ridden back in one of the jeeps, while Aidan and Dar remained behind to answer questions. Mitchell had assigned a team to guard Dar, a team to investigate the deaths of the pilot and stewardess, and another to oversee the crash.
The crash. Cass should’ve been terrified, should’ve been frantic. In all honesty, she could’ve screamed her head off if she’d allowed herself.
However, Aidan’s presence had taken off the edge. He’d taken charge with no backlash from Mitchell, had gotten them out of a spiraling airplane and safely on solid ground.
Cass never wanted to experience anything like that again.
She’d entered her private quarters in the security wing to find most of her personal belongings in her room. Under different circumstances, she would’ve been excited to see her clothes, purses, shoes, etc. from her home at Grand Lake. Now, she knew she’d never see home again.
Mitchell Jacobs didn’t have to treat her this well. He could have her out in the desert with no food or water. He’d given her and Dar rooms as though they were guests, rather than prisoners.
She just couldn’t figure out why.
And Dar. He’d handed over his parachute to Mitchell Jacobs. That told her one thing.
Her twin had given up.
After Aidan had single-handedly taken out the Naylor team at the hospital last night, Cass knew Dar had surrendered. Knew he took the blame for the loss of Naylor Interests, knew he realized their family unit was gone.
Robert Naylor would never forgive them for any of it.
Cass twirled her damp hair. The cool shower relaxed her after standing in the heat of the desert so long. She’d donned a sky-blue, strapless sundress that fell just above her knees, with silver sandals on her feet. She wanted to look her best when Aidan saw her. Hopefully, that kiss they’d shared in the desert meant he’d given her another chance.
Walking at a brisk pace, Mitchell approached her, his black hair slicked back from his face. “They’re coming in, Cassandra.”
Excitement coursed through her veins. She fell in step beside him as they headed to the garage, her long legs serving her well with his all-business stride. Opening the door, Mitchell stood aside and allowed her to pass. She walked onto a landing that overlooked the garage below. The caravan of SUV’s entered the garage, lining up side by side, one per bay.
With a hand at the small of her back, Mitchell guided her down a set of stairs to a second landing. They waited there as the agents emerged from each vehicle. Cass stood on her tiptoes, looking out over the mob of activity, searching for Aidan and Dar.
Leaning in close, Mitchell pointed to the far end of the building. “It looks like they’re down there.”
With the noise amplified by the metal walls of the structure, Cass bent closer to hear. Nodding, her gaze connected with Aidan’s swirling green glare as he climbed out of a far vehicle.
Her body, her mind, her heart wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms.
His glare left her rooted to the spot.
Marching toward her with obvious intent, Aidan took the steps up, two at a time. Storming across the landing, he grabbed her by the hand and hauled her behind him - before shoving Mitchell against the railing. Electricity zapped and buzzed around him.
“Didn’t waste any time, did you?”
Cass gasped at his bold move. “Aidan.” She touched him on the shoulder.
Whipping around, he glared at her, his jaw clenched. She backed away.
“Stand down, Monroe.” Mitchell’s voice carried in the garage, his tone irate.
The garage silenced. She heard running footsteps.
“What the hell, Monroe?” Dar came up beside her, his guards behind him.
She shook her head, dumbfounded at Aidan’s behavior.
Dar looked around. “Where the hell is Jacobs?”
“I bet you hoped I’d bite it in that plane, huh?”
Mitchell stood earthly still, his nostrils flared, his blue eyes nearly navy blue in color. “I’m not going to say it again, Monroe.”
A flash of light lit up the landing. Tristan appeared beside Mitchell.
“Monroe. What the hell’s wrong with you?” Stepping between them, Tristan shoved Aidan. Shocked, he snatched away his hand.
Cass turned to her brother. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed fine on the ride here.”
Aidan said, “Were you tongue-tied with her, too, Mitchell?”
Tongue-tied? What was he talking about?
“Maybe curious about whether the daughter is as good in bed as the mother?” Aidan tilted his head.
Cassandra stilled. She looked at Dar whose gaze sat locked on the duo. What did that mean?
Mitchell’s growl rattled the walls of the blistering garage. Pulling back, his arm shot forward. Tristan jumped out of the way right before Mitchell’s fist connected with Aidan’s cheek.
His head snapped back. Growling low, Aidan hunched his shoulders.
“Bring it, old man. I’m ready.”
This madness had to stop. She didn’t know if it came from the stress of the crash or the desert heat, but something had gotten into Aidan.
“No.” Cassandra stepped between them and glared at him. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage, Aidan? You’re acting like an idiot. Mitchell has been nothing but kind to me since we got here.”
“I bet he has…”
She spread her hands wide. “Okay, enough. What is going on?”
The two men glared at each other, breathing hard.
Aidan lifted his chin toward Mitchell. “Go ahead, Mitchell. Tell her.”
Staring at Aidan a long moment, Mitchell stepped back and straightened to his full, authoritative height. “Tristan, take him to the brig.”
Cassandra caught her breath. Tristan’s eyes widened.
Mitchell looked over the crowd of agents below. “If I catch anyone taking him water or food, they’ll be fired.” His gaze shot back to Aidan. “As soon as I can get Robinson to strip your system, you’re outta here, Monroe.”
######
He really screwed up this time.
Sitting on the edge of his cot, Aidan stared at the stark white wall across from him, his face throbbing from Mitchell’s punch. One would think he’d learned to control his temper after that incident with Sandra back in high school.
He’d ruined his future then.
He did it again now.
Not only did he lose his future with D.I.R.E., he’d most likely lost Cass. Like Sandy, he’d humiliated and insulted her in front of everyone.
Would he ever grow up?
Narrowly escaping that plane had made him realize he didn’t want to spend his life with regrets, like Mitchell. The man obviously had a thing for Cass’s mother in the past.
On the drive in from the desert, Aidan had decided he’d beg Cass for any time she’d grant him, and then carry her off to the nearest bedroom. He didn’t care who her father was or what she believed he’d do to him.
He wanted her.
Blowing out a breath, he rubbed his hands down his face. Question was: did she want him? She’d seen him at his worst. Hell, he’d even shocked himself with his behavior. This freaking system kept him on edge.
Yeah right, Monroe. You’re the only one that believes that.
What really kept Aidan on edge was staying away from her. He wanted to be near her all the time. He knew if they ever did get together, her father would probably disown her and hold that whole disappearing threat over her head.
If anything good had happened at all, Aidan felt a new respect for Dar Naylor. In a moment of imminent disaster, he’d offered his parachute to Mitchell Jacobs, of all people.
There was hope for him yet.
Then again, who was he to judge? He’d just royally s
crewed up his life.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Rachel and Tristan entered the clear acrylic door of his holding cell. Apparently, Tristan felt Aidan had screwed up enough to teleport back to Creekmore and get Rachel. His sister knew Aidan’s temper and its history. She didn’t look surprised.
Like Mitchell, Tristan didn’t raise his voice often. However, today seemed to be a day for exceptional circumstances.
“You don’t shove Mitchell. And, you sure as hell don’t accuse him of making a move on your girlfriend. Have you lost your freaking mind?”
Despite the fierce talking to he’d just given himself, Aidan raised his voice in response. “He’s the one that hit me. Besides, you didn’t hear him on the plane before it went down.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Rachel squeezed Tristan’s hand. Glancing down at her, Tristan released a breath.
“Did you know your father had the hots for Naylor’s wife?”
Rachel gasped. “What?”
Pulling back his head, Tristan stilled. “What?”
“He told me their mother was just as beautiful as Cass. She left him tongue-tied when he first met her.”
Tristan’s eyes went round with shock. “He did?”
“So, when I saw him…” Aidan shook his head.
“What?” Rachel said.
He cleared his throat. “When I saw him with Cass on the landing, I thought he was making a move on her.” He looked down at the floor. “Hell, I guess I was still strung up after that bullshit on the plane.”
Frowning, Tristan said, “I don’t remember much about my mother, but I do remember Mitchell was devastated when she… died. I remember him sitting at the dining room table with his head in his arms, crying. He loved my mother.”
Holy… shit.
He saw the notion hit Tristan when his eyes widened. Rachel clutched his arm in a tight grasp.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Aidan said.
“Shit, at this point, anything is possible.” Kissing Rachel’s hand, Tristan dropped it and went to the door. “I’m going to get the Naylors.”
He scanned his thumb over the access panel for Aidan’s cell. The door swished opened. “I’ll be right back.”
He and Rachel watched him go.
“You know…” Rachel turned around to face him. “…they say a mistake isn’t a mistake if you learn from it.”
Here we go…
“You didn’t learn anything back in high school, did you, Aidan?” She planted her hands on her hips. “You didn’t learn anything when your father got shot, or when he died after you hadn’t spoken to him for years.”
Aidan felt the sucker punch as surely as if she’d dealt the actual blow. He’d give anything to have one chance to apologize. One chance to tell his father he loved him.
“You didn’t learn anything today, Aidan.”
“Rachel-“
“Shut it, Aidan. Just… shut it.” She dropped down on the cot beside him. “You need to quit ruining your life. Stop trying to protect your heart. It’s going to break. You’re going to be disappointed. Face it. It happens to everyone.” She slapped his leg. “Stop being a coward.”
A coward?
Rachel lowered her voice. “If you love my sister, tell her. Show her. Stop with the drama.”
“Love her?” He didn’t love Cass. He desired her, admired her fortitude, wanted to be with her every waking moment. But love her?
No. He didn’t do relationships.
“Rachel, you know I don’t-“
Turning her head, she waved away his words. “There you go again. Protecting your heart. As long as you avoid relationships, you’ll continue to ruin your life.”
She stared at the floor, her hands clasped between her legs. “Me? I’m done with the drama. I’m done with the temper, I’m done with the turmoil.”
Guilt assailed Aidan when she sobbed aloud.
Tristan would kill him when he got back.
“I just want my family back, whomever they may be. I want Sunday dinners, and baseball games, and church socials.” She cried outright. “I want Ben back.”
Aidan held his sister as she balled on his shoulder. He realized that everything she wanted involved relationships. Rachel hungered for something he kept at arm’s length.
Maybe the time had come for change. Heaven knew he couldn’t get much lower than where he sat now.
“What the hell, Monroe?”
Tristan charged into the room, the Naylor’s at his heel. Aidan jumped up from the cot. Tristan went straight to Rachel and pulled her into his arms.
Rachel shook her head. “Don’t start, Tris. He didn’t do anything. I’m still a little rough from the funeral, that’s all.”
Aidan’s gaze landed on Cass, who refused to look his way. Dar, on the other hand, smirked at him with obvious glee.
Asshole.
“Cass, do you want to sit?” Aidan extended his arm to offer his cot.
She ignored him completely. Damn.
Tristan turned to face her. “You may want to sit down for this.”
The smirk disappeared from Dar’s face. Taking her elbow, he guided Cass to the cot. Rachel sat beside her.
“Okay Jacobs, what’s this about?” Dar crossed his arms over his chest.
Rachel glanced up at him, hands folded in her lap. “Your mother.”
Cass wrinkled her brow. What would she do if Aidan leaned down and kissed that mole under her left eye?
“Our mother?”
Nodding, Rachel said, “Cassandra, how did your mother die?”
Cass glanced up at Tristan then back at Rachel. “She committed suicide. Father has the note.”
“How old were you?” Tristan said.
Dar shrugged. “We were babies. A year, maybe.”
“So, that would make you what? Twenty-six?” Tristan said.
Cass and Dar nodded.
Aidan looked away. Did this shit ever end?
Tristan gave a bitter laugh. “My mother committed suicide... when I was three.”
Dar slowly lowered his arms to his sides. Cass shook her head in denial. Aidan moved closer to her, in case she needed him.
Her voice sounded whisper soft. “What was her name, Tristan?”
“Angela Davis.”
Cass covered her mouth with her hand. Aidan pressed his bare hand to her back, though he didn’t think she noticed.
“We have a match, folks.” Dar’s face looked pasty white against his dark hair and aqua eyes.
Cursing under his breath, Tristan spoke into his armband. “Mitchell, get down to the brig. We have a problem.”
Chapter 10
Mitchell Jacobs looked like he wanted to throw up.
Cass sat adjacent to Mitchell in a small conference room in the security wing. He’d refused to remain in Aidan’s cell because Aidan reeked of sweat and desert. He’d granted Aidan a shower and change of clothes for their benefit alone, not his.
Tristan and Rachel sat across the table holding hands, the scowl on Tristan’s face downright terrifying. Dar fidgeted beside her, shaking his leg, clearly uncomfortable with their company and the high level of tension in the room. Aidan sat on his right, opposite Mitchell. The two men glared at each other like gladiators in a two-bit movie, one complete with metal armbands.
At least for now, anyway.
Tristan sat forward, fists on the table. “Okay Mitchell, enough of the bullshit. Is Angela Davis my mother?”
Though outwardly calm, Mitchell’s gills were definitely a bright shade of green.
“Yes.”
Dread fizzled in her stomach like soda pop. “As far as you know, she’s our mother, too, correct?”
Taking a deep breath, Mitchell blew it out slowly. “Yes.”
Oh… my gosh. Dar wilted in his chair. Cass grabbed his hand. First Kate and her father, now Angela and Mitchell?
She now had a new sister and a new brother, both raised by
men she’d been raised to hate. How did that happen?
“Just what the hell kind of orgy did all of you have going on back then?” Dar blurted.
Mitchell turned his ferocious glare on him. “Not that I owe any of you a damned explanation but, Angela and I were married at the time Tristan was conceived.”
Tristan tilted his head. “Oh, I think you owe us a lot more than a simple explanation.”
Anger emanated off Mitchell like strong cologne. “How do you figure, Tristan? My relationship with your mother is my business. Not yours,” he glanced around the table, “or anyone else’s in this freaking room.”
Keep it cool, Cassandra. You’ll never get answers if he doesn’t calm down.
She spoke softly. “So, you and Angela were married for a short while before she and my father married?”
Elbow on the chair arm, Mitchell pressed two fingers to his temple and stared at her without answering.
This was not good. She felt like she had her fingers in an open car door with no way to move them before it shut.
Mitchell’s voice held a note of resignation. “Cassandra, Angela and I never divorced.”
A turbulent, illogical anger suffused her body. Her father had an affair with Mitchell’s wife?
Dar puffed up in his chair. “Are you telling me we’re freaking bastards?”
“I think you need to talk to your father, Dar.”
“Talk to my father? Yeah, right. I can talk to him but he never gives me answers. Hell, we’ve never even been told why he hates you.”
Cass laid a reassuring hand on his arm. She turned to Mitchell. “How did my father and Angela get together?”
The green in Mitchell’s face turned a bright red. “I wouldn’t know. I was out with my team at the time.”
Dar spread his hands on the table. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that my father did to you what Jim Monroe did to him?”
“What Jim Monroe did wasn’t intentional.”
Cass caught her breath. “You’re saying my father slept with my mother to get back at you?”