by Lynda Chance
That left Garrett and Maria. He’d been unable to actually speak to Garrett—but they’d been playing tag by phone. He’d left a voicemail that said only enough—that they were facing an emergency, and that Garrett needed to find Maria, keep her close, and get his ass home.
As he stopped pacing for a moment to stare out at the window, his phone rang. “Yeah?” he asked abruptly.
“They’re here. Conference Room One.”
He dropped the phone back to its cradle and strode down the corridor. He’d expected only his brothers, but as he walked into the room, Maria stood in front of Garrett, his brother’s hands on her shoulders. Damian glanced over to Nick, who was sitting at the conference table gripping a pencil so tightly that it looked like it was about to snap in half.
Nick’s gaze met his and Damian asked, “Where’s Courtney?”
His middle brother gave him a heated look that indicated Courtney wasn’t his to worry about—and it was enough to set off Damian’s temper. “Son-of-a-bitch, Nick—I get it. You’ve harped on it long enough. She’s yours now—not for the Rule family to worry about anymore—but I’m under a lot of pressure here and I want to know that the women are safe. All of them. Just tell me where you’ve put her.”
“Where I’ve put her?” Nick drawled with narrowed eyes.
Damian remained mute as he stared at Nick, his silence demanding an answer.
His brother never flinched but he did finally relent. “She’s in the penthouse with Angie.”
Damian let out a pent-up breath. “Good.” He turned to his youngest brother. “Don’t you think Maria should be with the women as well?”
Garrett blistered him with a look that said Maria was going nowhere. “Why? What the fuck is going on?”
Damian had already broken the majority of the news to Nick and the two of them shared a glance now. This was not going to be good and they both knew it. “You better sit down,” he said to Garrett.
His youngest brother gave him a smoldering look. “I’m good—just spill it.”
Damian couldn’t put it off any longer, shit, he didn’t want to put it off any longer. He needed to share his burden with both of his brothers. “Maximo Villarreal has Erin and he’s taken her to Argentina.”
The changing expressions of alarm, horror, and rage he saw on Garrett’s features didn’t surprise him; the color that blanched from Maria’s face and left her looking like a ghost surprised the fuck out of him. The girl knew something and he needed to know exactly what that was.
But before he had a chance to question her, Garrett exploded. “What the fuck do you mean ‘he has her’?”
Damian quickly explained what he knew. “He purposely trailed her during her trip to Vegas—I’m guessing the motherfucker got her drunk, because somehow, he tricked her into marrying him.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Garrett slowly enunciated through clenched teeth.
Damian cracked his knuckles, feeling a new wave of rage wash over him when he thought about Villarreal holding their sister. “No, I’m not shitting you.”
Still standing behind Maria, Garrett’s legs braced apart and he suddenly looked ready to attack. “Well, what the fuck are we waiting for? Can we find her? Her phone has GPS—unless he’s taken it from her?”
Damian shook his head. “It’s not going to be as simple as that.”
Garrett’s mouth flattened. “Why not? Is she safe for the moment at least? Have you spoken to her?”
Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, I’ve spoken to her and she seems to be safe, but she’s pretending—goddammit—like it’s love or something.”
Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she pretend?”
“I don’t know but it was more than obvious that she was saying what she felt forced to say,” Damian answered.
“So, it’s coercion at the very least,” Garrett said between gritted teeth. “Is he holding her for ransom? What the hell could he possibly want?”
Nick broke in, his impatience obvious to see. “You tell us, Garrett. You know the fucker better than we do. What the hell did you do to piss him off?”
A look of fury lit Garrett’s eyes as he swung in Nick’s direction. “Me? Why the fuck is this my goddamn fault?”
Damian butted in before all hell broke loose. “It’s not your fault, Garrett, but we need to know why the bastard has it out for us—”
His words broke off as Maria interjected in a shaky voice. “It’s my fault.”
Garrett froze, his hands tightening on the girl. “It’s not your fault—you have nothing to do with Villarreal’s hatred.”
Damian watched as she closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “Maybe not.” She swiveled in Garrett’s arms until she was facing him. “But remember the last time he came to the hotel? It was right before you walked into the office—the guy was pumping me for information but I was so agitated that I didn’t realize it at the time. And I let it slip—” Her voice trailed off.
Garrett lifted her chin with a gentle finger and asked, “Let what slip, baby?”
She bit her lip and her face crumpled as she said, “That y’all have a sister.”
As Garrett comforted Maria, Damian took the opportunity to glance at Nick and they shared a moment of silent communication. There was no question that Maria wasn’t to blame, but with the information she’d given them it became damn well obvious: Villarreal had been planning to take Erin since the moment he’d found out about her existence.
So, now the question was, why?
Damian knew they had to get the ball rolling. They had two things to accomplish—they had to keep the family safe and they had to get Erin back home in one piece. Not wasting any more time, he picked up the phone and dialed his head of security.
****
When Erin woke up the next morning, she couldn’t tell if Max had slept beside her or not. She’d tossed and turned and she remembered looking at the bedside clock several times. She knew at two o’clock he hadn’t been in bed. And now it was eight and if he’d come into the room in the middle of the night, then he’d already vacated his place beside her. Evidently, he needed very little sleep—something that Erin couldn’t understand. If she didn’t get a full eight hours, she was practically worthless the following day.
As she jumped in the shower, she thought back to the previous evening. Supper had been a quiet, somber affair. It had been just the two of them, and Marisol had served the meal in the formal dining room, although she had put Erin’s place setting directly to Max’s right.
The meal had been served late, as was the custom, and all Erin had been able to think about was the disappearing day—and the night to come. Max had been almost silent throughout the meal, but she’d felt his eyes on her relentlessly. She’d barely been able to eat and he’d noticed, frowning at her plate.
As the minutes had ticked by, her anxiety level had risen.
Thankfully, he’d retreated to his office once the meal had been finished, but not before giving her a molten look that had promised future intimacy—no wonder she’d tossed and turned before falling into a fitful sleep.
Now, after finishing a late breakfast alone in the atrium, she entered the room that Max had given her the previous day and looked around. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it was better than nothing.
She hadn’t been standing there longer than ten seconds before Max walked in behind her. “Good morning,” he said in a low tone.
Erin turned to face him, her pulse accelerating. “Good morning.”
He was silent as he studied her, walking into the room and leaning against the back of the settee. An air of raw, sexual chemistry seemed to fill the space that separated them. It was almost as if an invisible pulley was hooked between them simulating an unbreakable force, drawing her to him no matter how firmly she tried to plant her feet to the floor.
As his gaze trailed down her body, it was almost as if he touched her in every place that his eyes stopp
ed. She could practically feel his body next to hers—and it was causing conflicting emotions that she couldn’t seem to get control over.
He was impatient—she could feel it. And she didn’t know if she had what it was going to take to keep putting him off.
Just as she thought she was doomed, just as he pushed away from the settee and took the first step toward her, Marisol interrupted the tension in the room when she cleared her throat.
Max snapped his gaze away from Erin, the flecks of red that highlighted his cheekbones telling her that he wasn’t finished with her yet. “Yes?” he asked the housekeeper.
Marisol smiled cautiously as she advised, “Company has arrived, señor. I’ve put the Navarros in the front room.”
An air of annoyance blazed across Max’s countenance. “Thank you, Marisol. Serve them refreshments and we will be there momentarily.”
“Si, señor,” the housekeeper murmured before leaving.
Max’s full attention came back to Erin as his gaze traveled from her eyes, to her lips, to her throat, where she knew he could see how fast the pulse was quivering in her neck. “Not a good time for guests,” he rasped as his eyes came back to lock with hers. “I’d much rather give you an example of how we will spend our leisure time together.”
Ignoring his insinuation and grasping onto the excuse, she asked, “Who are they?”
“Neighbors. The Navarros own the closest ranching operation to us.” When he used the word ‘us,’ Erin felt a splinter of amazement that he would include her, as if they were a unit. “They are twenty miles away, but still, the closest neighbors we have. It is good to stay in contact.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, looking forward to meeting the people of the area.
A harsh glitter suddenly lit his eyes. “You will not flirt with Rafael.”
The neighbor? “Why would I flirt with Rafael?”
His lips flattened. “I don’t know if you would, but I feel compelled to warn you against such an endeavor—it will not please me.”
“Because …?” she prompted, although she already had Max’s number. The guy was not going to share and how the hell did that make her feel?
“Because he is a friend of mine—of sorts—and I would hate to have to get rid of him,” he announced matter-of-factly.
Erin studied him for a moment, trying to understand him. “So you would take it out on him but not on me?”
“I would deal with him—and then I would undoubtedly feel compelled to litter bruises across your posterior.”
She swallowed at the description while she fought the skittish feeling. “I thought it wasn’t your intention to hurt me.”
His eyes narrowed as his hands sank around her shoulders in nothing less than a death grip, his eyes blazing into hers for the space of several seconds. And then his mouth abruptly lowered as he skimmed her parted lips before trailing down, past her jaw line, down, until his lips sank onto the pale skin of her neck. Lightning went off in her head as he held her glued to him and began kissing her neck with such force that she began to see stars. Her legs began shaking and her heart began beating rapidly as she abruptly remembered what it felt like to lie underneath him.
She hung in his arms for how long, she didn’t know, but finally, he lifted his head. Her eyes snapped open and when she came to her senses, she found a ferocious look on his features.
He swung her around until her back was to his front and his arm sank around her middle, holding her tightly to him. He walked her forward a few feet until she was standing in front of a gilded mirror; Erin leaned back on him, her legs feeling like jelly. Her eyes were glued to his, watching his lips move as he snarled, “Look.”
She took a shaky breath and glanced into her own eyes—eyes that had darkened dramatically. Her gaze skipped over her reflection. Her hair was mussed, her cheekbones flushed. Her eyes dropped to her neck where he’d been kissing her so intensely only seconds before.
The large purple mark he’d left was showing against her pale skin already, and the sight made her lungs seize up.
His other arm sank around her middle as well, until he was holding her hostage within his arms. His mouth dropped to her ear as he watched her in the mirror. “There will be no pain when I bruise you—but understand that if necessary, the world will know you are mine. If you want bruises across your entire body that is up to you—but my warning stands—do not flirt with Navarro.”
His warning ringing in her ears, she lifted her fingers to trail against the mark on her neck before lifting her eyes to his, the butterflies in her stomach making it almost impossible to speak. “You’re crazy.”
His mouth set in firm lines. “It seems so—when it comes to you at least. It might do you well to remember that.”
With those words, he released her from the captivity of his embrace, but only as far as sinking a hand around her fingers to pull her from the room. She walked beside him until they reached the drawing room where he paused, pulling her tightly against his side, as if they were truly equals. But she knew the reality—he was calling the shots, and his roughened fingers holding hers captive were the only reminder she needed.
She glanced around, seeing their guests were already seated. The man, Rafael Navarro, was situated in one of two chairs that flanked the sofa. A younger woman sat on the sofa to his immediate left. Erin saw with a glance that they seemed to be pointedly ignoring each other as they waited.
Both visitors stood when Max and Erin entered the room and releasing Erin only briefly, Max walked first to the girl who had hair as dark as Erin’s own. He hugged her with what seemed to be genuine warmth, searching the young woman’s face as if he were concerned—a look similar to the ones she’d seen on her brothers’ faces when they hadn’t seen her for a while.
Erin didn’t completely understand it, but the look in Max’s eyes was so … so familial that she wasn’t bothered by his attention to the girl. The concerned look disappeared completely as he released the girl and turned to the man and shook his hand with much less effusiveness.
And then, pulling Erin forward, he swung her in front of him, her back to his front, and sank his arm around her waist again, a position that must please him because he kept doing it so damn much. “Nora, Rafael—I’d like to present my wife, Erin.” The arm he held cinched around her waist became like a band of steel, almost a warning. “Erin, these are our closest neighbors, Rafael Navarro and his sister, Nora.”
Erin smiled at the young woman who appeared several years younger than she and shook her hand. As she turned and greeted Rafael Navarro, the man corrected, “Nora’s my stepsister.”
As the man released her hand, from the corner of her eye, Erin saw two things: Nora flinching at the correction and Max’s body growing rigid. Her mother’s training saved her in the seconds that followed, as Erin smiled. She dipped her head graciously as a hostess would, even though she felt like a fraud for doing it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m astounded at how beautiful the area is. You’re very lucky to live here.”
As she motioned for them to sit again, Max’s grip slowly receded and Erin took the few steps to the sofa and sat next to Nora while he took the empty chair.
Nora spoke up. “I’m sorry we barged in like this but when I heard about you—well, I just couldn’t wait.”
“It’s no problem. We’re delighted you could visit.” Abruptly, with only the slightest twinge of discomfort at her machinations, Erin decided to take the opportunity to plant the seed in Max’s mind that she was trustworthy—that she was accepting of the situation and was prepared to get along cohesively in his household. So with that in mind, she flashed him a demure smile before settling her gaze on Nora once again. “My husband has been showing me the house, nothing more. I’m really glad you guys came by. Max tells me that your home is twenty miles away—and that you’re our closest neighbors. From where I come from, that kind of open space is almost mind-boggling.”
Nora’s sweet laughter spilled into t
he room. “Yes, but it gets boring and lonely here. I hope you and I get on. Maybe we can go riding together soon?”
Riding? “Riding—what?” Erin asked, trying not to show her alarm at the thought of getting on a horse.
“Horses? You do know how to ride, don’t you?” Nora questioned with a hopeful look.
No, she didn’t, and she wasn’t about to learn. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Nora wriggled in her seat, not about to accept the setback. “I can teach you.”
Erin tried to keep the alarm from her features. “That’s sweet, but, for you to teach me, I’d have to, you know, get on a horse.”
“You don’t like horses?”
Erin tried with everything she had not to flinch. “No, they’re fine—from a distance.”
As the men sat silently listening to the exchange, Nora continued. “You have to learn. I need someone to ride with—”
The girl was interrupted when Rafael reached over and put a restraining hand on her knee. Erin glanced at Max and saw his eyes narrow at the other man’s action.
“Stop hounding her, Nora,” Rafael admonished. “She’s only just gotten here and riding doesn’t seem to be her thing.”
Nora seemed to freeze, moving her leg and glaring at her stepbrother before turning back to Erin with a hopeful smile. “No problem. I’ve got a brand new four-by-four we can take. It looks kind of like a golf cart—not at all like a horse,” she laughed. “It’s a Kawasaki Mule and it’s awesome—”
Max and Rafael interjected at the same time. “No—”
Erin only listened to the exchange, wondering at Max’s vehemence while Nora glared at the two men before retorting, “Why not?”
For a moment, Max and Rafael exchanged glances, almost comical in their male solidarity, looking as if they were desperately trying to come up with a reasonable objection to such an innocent outing. Nora rolled her eyes and jumped into the silence. “There’s no reason. Come on, Erin, it will be fun. Please, have pity on me. You haven’t been stuck here forever like I have—”