Any Way You Want It

by Maureen Smith

  Johanna secretly agreed. But Landis was convinced that Zandra would be a liability to his campaign, and Johanna couldn’t have that.

  “From what I understand,” she said coolly, “people in your line of work move around all the time.”

  “I don’t,” Zandra said with implacable calm. “I have no reason to run and hide from the authorities.”

  “Don’t you?” Johanna challenged.

  “No. I don’t.”

  Johanna pursed her lips with distaste. “I don’t even understand why you’re involved in that type of business. You’re an intelligent, highly educated woman. Your father told me that you have an economics degree from Oxford and a master’s from Northwestern. You’re influential and well regarded in artistic circles. You could be running your own art gallery instead of a...a...”

  “Brothel?” Zandra supplied.

  Johanna flushed uncomfortably. “I wasn’t going to use that word.”

  “You didn’t have to. Your husband already did.” A trace of mockery curved Zandra’s lips. “You know, we’re not so different, you and I. We both came from nothing, and we both did whatever it took to survive.”

  Johanna held Zandra’s steely gaze for a moment, then swallowed hard and glanced out the window. They were heading south on Michigan Avenue, passing the manicured greenery of Grant Park on one side, and modern skyscrapers and hotels on the other.

  Johanna turned back to Zandra. “I don’t understand why you and your father can’t put the past behind you once and for all. Your father—”

  “—has demons.” Zandra’s lips twisted cynically. “And I happen to be one of them.”

  Johanna frowned, nervously fingering the cultured pearls around her slender throat. “I know you may find this hard to believe, but I love Landis.”

  “So did my mother. And loving him destroyed her.” Haunted dark eyes met Johanna’s. “If I were you, I’d be careful.”

  A chill ran through Johanna. “I don’t know what happened in the past. I’ve never asked, and I don’t plan to. All I can tell you is that your father is a wonderful man, and he’s been nothing but good to me and my children.”

  Zandra smirked. “Then you’re lucky. He was never good to me or my mother.”

  Johanna frowned.

  “Everything is going well for him now,” Zandra smoothly continued. “After my mother passed away, he was able to attend law school like he’d always wanted. And then he struck gold by meeting you. Now he gets to enjoy your wealth and connections, his political career looks promising, and he doesn’t have the burden of raising a child he never planned for or wanted. Life is good for him.” Zandra paused. “Let his circumstances change, and you may see an entirely different side of him.”

  Johanna swallowed with difficulty.

  “Does he know you came to see me?” Zandra inquired.

  Johanna hesitated for a moment. “No.”

  “Then you’d better hope he doesn’t find out.”

  Johanna felt another chill of foreboding.

  Zandra lowered the privacy glass to speak to her driver. “Norman, would you please turn around and take Mrs. Kennedy back to the restaurant?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zandra slid her sunglasses back on, all but dismissing Johanna.

  It infuriated her. Who the hell did this girl think she was?

  “People are very fickle, Zandra. One day you’re the toast of the town. The next day you’re a pariah.” Johanna smiled narrowly. “You’d do well to remember that.”

  Zandra gave her a smile etched in steel. “And you’d do well to remember what I said about your husband. Perhaps the reason you’ve never asked about the past is that you don’t want to know. One can only wonder why.”

  Long after Johanna returned to the opulence of her mansion, Zandra’s warnings haunted her.

  Zandra smiled her way through the women’s empowerment luncheon.

  She kissed rouged cheeks, laughed charmingly, received invitations to more socials.

  She posed for photographs, and accepted congratulations for raising the funds needed to renovate a cultural arts center on the South Side.

  She pretended that everything was perfectly normal.

  On the way home, she asked Norman to stop at her favorite gourmet coffee shop. She ordered a café au lait, sat at a small table in the corner and stared out the window until she was transported back in time to the bustling streets of Paris.

  When she arrived home, she peeled off her clothes and put on her robe. Then she padded to the living room and roamed around gazing at her mother’s paintings, feeling Autumn’s spirit through every delicate but powerful brushstroke.

  When she felt strong enough, Zandra made her way to her bedroom closet, unlocked the hidden safe and retrieved the letter that had been delivered to her a week after her mother’s funeral. The letter no one but Remy knew about.

  Autumn’s suicide note.

  Zandra ran her eyes over the page, though she’d long ago memorized every word, knew the slanting curve of each letter.

  * * *

  My dearest Zandra,

  I’m sorry. I know those words cannot begin to assuage the pain and confusion you’re feeling right now, but I had to say them. I’m sorry. I tried for so long, but I can’t run this race anymore. I’m tired, and my spirit needs rest.

  Thank you for Paris. Being there made me the happiest I’ve been since the day you were born. I don’t know how someone like me could have given life to such a ferociously strong daughter, but I thank God for it, and I thank God for you.

  Be your own woman, darling, but never be afraid to open your heart. The right man will know how to take care of it.

  I hope, in time, you will forgive me for leaving. I had to, and now I’m at peace.

  Love forever and always,

  Mom

  * * *

  Zandra carefully folded up the letter, but she didn’t put it away. Her throat ached, but her eyes were dry. She wouldn’t cry.

  Not this time.

  She sat down on her bed, curled her legs up to her chest.

  Night fell, plunging the room into shadows.

  She didn’t move.

  Her cell phone rang.

  Calls from Colin, Skylar and Racquel Brand went unanswered.

  When Remy called, she reached over and picked up the phone because she knew he’d come over if he couldn’t get in touch with her. And if he found her like this, he’d hold her and murmur soothingly to her, and she would cry.

  Sounding as normal as she could, she told him she was having dinner with a client, and he told her he was hanging out with his brothers. She smiled, sent them all her love and wished Remy a good time.

  Then she calmly hung up the phone.

  Still holding her mother’s letter, she closed her eyes to the darkness blanketing her bedroom, wishing it were as easy to banish the darkness in her soul.

  Chapter Twelve

  That evening Remy met his brothers for drinks at their favorite sports bar and grill on the South Side, just minutes from the rough neighborhood they’d once called home.

  Even though they’d moved on to greener pastures and become successful in their own right, they’d never forgotten the hardscrabble days of their childhood, when crime and violence had plagued their block, and their parents had scraped and struggled to feed and clothe six children. They’d never forgotten who they were and where they came from.

  So when Remy walked into the South Side pub and was greeted boisterously by the owner, he felt right at home.

  He sidled up to the bar, and without being asked, Donnie poured him a tap beer. Sipping from the foamy glass, Remy spent a few minutes shooting the shit with the burly, bald-headed owner while ESPN highlights blared from a plasma television mounted in the corner, and the mouthwatering aroma of baking pizza wafted through the air. When it came to deep-dish, Donnie served up some of the best in town.

  The bar’s dark wood walls were covered with newspaper clippings a
nd Chicago sports memorabilia. There were old baseball tickets, vintage photos of Comiskey Park, autographed jerseys from various Sox, Bears and Bulls players—most notably Frank Thomas, Walter Payton and Michael Jordan.

  After Donnie topped off Remy’s beer, he got up and sauntered toward the back, where his brothers sat around their regular table swigging beers and cracking jokes. They were in shirtsleeves, sporting five o’clock shadows and the broad, wicked grins that left no doubt they were all related.

  They’d saved Remy an empty chair facing the door, because they knew he never sat with his back to the entrance of any establishment. Even though he’d been out of the navy for three years, he still did a mental headcount of other diners upon entering a restaurant. He still noted the number and location of windows, still checked for things like thick tables for absorbing shrapnel or bullets. He always had to know where the rear exits were, and he never left home without packing heat. But if he was going to see Zandra, he’d usually leave his weapon in the car, because even though he’d taught her how to shoot, the sight of guns still made her uneasy.

  “Fellas.” Remy grabbed the vacant chair, turned it around and nimbly straddled it. “What’re we talking about?”

  Royce drawled humorously, “I was just telling Rod to enjoy having all the sex he can with Lena, because once the baby gets here—”

  “—he’s in for a serious drought,” River cracked.

  As the two brothers laughed, Remy grinned at Roderick, remembering how excited he’d been when Rod called a few days ago to tell him that Lena was pregnant. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that hearing the emotion in his twin brother’s voice had gotten him choked up.

  Roderick chuckled, shaking his head at Royce and River. “Why do you clowns assume that having a baby will put an end to my sex life? It sure as hell didn’t hurt Mom and Dad’s, unless you think they got six kids by osmosis.”

  At the mere thought of their parents having sex, the brothers groaned in laughing disgust, which made Roderick grin with satisfaction.

  “Point taken,” Royce conceded.

  “Definitely,” Remy agreed.

  River grinned, swigging his beer. “We were just teasing you anyway. As hot as Lena is, you’d be crazy to let anything keep you from hitting that every night. I know I wouldn’t.”

  Roderick chuckled. “Watch it now. That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

  “Only because you met her first.”

  “Please,” Roderick snorted. “Lena wouldn’t have given you the time of day.”

  But she would have been in the minority. With his dark good looks and cocky swagger, River Brand had women eating out of the palm of his hand. He was the youngest of his siblings, and the one least likely to ever settle down.

  Leaning back in his chair, Royce hitched his chin toward River. “I’ve been meaning to ask what’s going on between you and Lena’s sister.”

  River frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the way you were putting the moves on her in St. Lucia, I just figured you two would be dating by now.”

  “Nah,” River said dismissively. “We were just having fun, passing time. Besides, Morgan’s not really my type.” At Royce’s raised brow, he elaborated, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. She has a great personality and a pretty face. But she’s, like, a size zero. And you guys know I prefer my women with more meat on their bones. We all do.”

  Royce, Roderick and Remy looked at one another, then broke into wide, knowing grins and chorused, “She turned him down.”

  River scowled. “She didn’t turn me down.”

  “Uh-huh,” the others laughingly mocked. “Yeah, sure.”

  River’s scowl darkened. “Only because she’s already seeing someone. Some dude named Isaac.”

  “Isaiah,” Roderick corrected. “His name’s Isaiah. He and Morgan have been dating off and on for the past few months. You would have met him at the wedding, but he had to go out of town on business.”

  River shot him a dark look. “It would have been nice if you’d told me that before we went to St. Lucia.”

  Royce snorted a laugh. “As if that would have stopped you from hitting on her.”

  “It might have.” River gulped down more beer, smacked his lips and shrugged a broad shoulder. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Like I said, she’s not my type.”

  Trading amused glances with Royce and Roderick, Remy drawled, “Methinks the boy doth protest too much.”

  As they laughed, River smirked and gave them the finger.

  When the humorous moment passed, Roderick said casually to Royce, “Yesterday when I spoke to Robyn, she mentioned that Daphne was upset because she wasn’t invited to St. Lucia. Is that true?”

  Royce grimaced, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “Unfortunately, it is.”

  “Are you serious?” River demanded incredulously. “Why the hell should she have been invited? Ever since the divorce, she’s barely wanted anything to do with our family.”

  “Except, apparently, when it comes to taking all-expenses-paid trips to the Caribbean,” Remy said sardonically.

  Roderick sipped his beer, then calmly set the glass down on the table. “As Lena and I explained to everyone, the trip to St. Lucia was our way of thanking all of you for your love and support. Now, Royce, I know you were married to Daphne and she’s the mother of your two children, whom I adore. But I don’t consider her a member of this family anymore, and I make no apologies for that.”

  “Nor should you have to,” Royce grimly agreed. “Daphne had no right to complain to Robyn, and I’m sorry you had to hear about it. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re not responsible for Daphne’s petty behavior.” Roderick grinned. “Besides, she already got an earful from Robyn.”

  The four brothers chuckled at the thought of their big sister reading Daphne the riot act. Robyn had always been fiercely protective of her family. It was well-known that anyone who harmed a member of the Brand clan would invariably incur the wrath of Mama Bear Robyn.

  “Speaking of getting an earful,” River drawled, grinning lasciviously at Remy, “when are we gonna talk about all that moaning and groaning I heard coming from Zandra’s hotel room in St. Lucia? Either she hooked up with one of those cabana boys who were checking her out—or you finally got your prayers answered.”

  Heat crawled up Remy’s neck as his brothers stared expectantly at him, their eyes gleaming with salacious curiosity. He hadn’t told any of them—not even Roderick—that he and Zandra had become lovers, because she’d asked him not to.

  So he looked River in the eye and said with a straight face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  As a roar of incredulous groans went around the table, he grinned.

  “C’mon, Rem,” River complained. “How’re you gonna hold out on us like that? Haven’t we been nothing but supportive of your secret crush on Zandra?”

  “Secret crush?” Remy scoffed. “Fug outta here. How old do you think I am?”

  Royce chuckled. “You’ve spent the past two years secretly pining away for your childhood friend. What would you call it? A discreet longing?”

  Remy scowled as his brothers hooted with laughter. When he leveled a glare at his twin, Roderick only laughed harder.

  Shaking his head in amused defeat, Remy drank his beer.

  “You know,” Royce said, eyes glinting as he stroked his trim goatee, “I’ve been giving this some more thought.”

  “What’s that?” Roderick asked.

  “Well, I think our dear brother here has been in love with Za-Za a helluva lot longer than a couple years. Hold on,” he added when Remy opened his mouth to protest. “Hear me out.”

  Roderick grinned. “I’m all ears.”

  Royce sat forward. “Do you remember Zandra’s prom night? Remember you and Remy were home from college, and Robyn and Mom had gone to Zandra’s grandmother’s house to help her get ready? So we decided to head over there to meet h
er prom date, give him the talk, etcetera, etcetera.”

  A slow grin spread across Roderick’s face. “And Remy went overboard, started lecturing the guy about Zandra being a virgin and a nice girl, not one of those skeezers at school. He told him he expected Zandra to be returned home in the same condition she’d left—or else.” Roderick laughed at the memory, wagging his head at Remy. “You scared the shit out of that poor kid.”

  Remy scowled. “That ‘poor kid’ was the captain of the football team. He knew exactly where I was coming from.”

  Royce laughed. “Remember how Remy wanted to follow them to make sure they didn’t take any detours?”

  “Yeah, and when we talked him out of that idea, he actually suggested hanging out at Zandra’s grandmother’s house to wait for her to come home.”

  Remy’s face heated as his brothers burst into another round of laughter. Damn, he should have kept his ass at home tonight.

  Roderick looked at him, his eyes dancing with mirth. “All of us were protective of Zandra, so at the time we just figured you were acting out of brotherly concern for her. But now...” He trailed off, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Knowing what we know now, it puts the past in a whole new light.”

  Remy frowned, dropping his gaze to the frothy dregs of his beer. He didn’t want to consider the implications of what his brothers were saying. He didn’t want to believe that he’d been carrying a damn torch for Zandra all these years, and he’d done nothing about it.

  Grinning mischievously, River slung an arm around Remy’s neck and offered consolingly, “Look on the bright side. Unless that was a cabana boy in Zandra’s hotel room that night, you’re—as they say—in like Flynn.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Wednesday afternoon, Remy was in his office reviewing holographic schematics of a secret military compound located off the coast of Norway.