The women were all in one of the ballrooms at Taylor’s baby shower. She was due any day. Gavin was worse than Aiden had been when Jesslyn was pregnant. One would think their wives were the first women ever pregnant.
The men read books, for the love of God, on how to raise kids, and how to deal with babies. Had there been any books when he and Kaitie were having their sons? Hell, no. And they’d turned out all right.
Quinlan told whoever was on the phone to hang on and reached for the landline phone there in the conference room. Well, there was still time for that one.
At least the others were all settled with their own families.
He looked away toward the windows that bordered the street and watched the cars pulling into the hotel. Not even eleven in the morning and already they were seeing traffic. Some probably for the luncheon crowd, others as early arrivals, others meetings. Who the hell knew, it was all profit.
He took a deep breath and looked back at his oldest son. “Why did we purchase it?” He leaned up onto the table. “Just because I’m not in the office doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what the hell is going on with the company, damn it.”
He might be getting older, but he wasn’t in the grave yet.
Aiden closed his eyes.
Gavin turned. “Dad, would you relax. They’ll make a profit. They always do. Even I, who has nothing to do with Kinncaid Enterprises, knows that. That’s why I trust them. And so do you. You’re so worried about the latest purchase, go see the thing. Take Mom on vacation. Just quit griping about it.”
He sat back. “Excuse me?”
“You’ll get yourself worked up, then Mom will have our asses.” Gavin frowned.
Brayden said, “Gav, sit down and quit your pacing. You’re making me twitchy.”
“Sounds like a medical problem to me,” Gavin answered.
“Dad, Gavin’s right,” Aiden interjected. “It’s fine. The castle needs very little work, a facelift on the interiors, and we’ve already contacted the contractors for that. We’ll be open in two months and we’re already booked three weeks past opening.”
Jock sat back. No one had told him that. He humphed. “I should have been told.”
Aiden gave him a dubious look. “I thought you retired.”
“I did, doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what the hell you boys are doing.”
“Afraid we’re going to—” Aiden frowned, looking out the window.
Jock turned, saw three black SUVs pull up. “Huh. We have any dignitaries staying with us?”
Gavin turned. “Probably a politician and some friends coming for lunch.”
“Anything on the books?” Quinlan asked, already dialing his damn phone.
Brayden shook his head and rose. “It’s a wonder you don’t all have high blood pressure. Who the hell cares who it is. Can we order now? The shower will be over and then the women will want to oooo and ahhh over every little thing. Discuss birthing horrors and what all.”
Aiden laughed, his attention turned. “Like that would matter to you. Christian pregnant yet?”
Jock watched Brayden out of the corner of his eyes. The door slammed open and Ryan, ten, and Tori, nine, came hurtling into the room.
“I still don’t understand why we had to leave,” Tori was saying, her voice reminding Jock of his wife’s. That little girl was going to slay some men when she was older. And if she didn’t, he had the impression that Ryan sure as hell would for her if any of them didn’t treat her right.
“I said I’d explain later,” Ryan said, a serious expression on his face. The door shut behind them and they hurried over to the built-in television, turning it on, the two of their heads together as they usually were.
Aiden was still grinning, “I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer, Brayden.”
No comment from Brayden, who only glanced at Tori.
“Bray?” Gavin asked
“Our table’s ready,” Quinlan said, hanging up the phone.
“You need a woman, son,” he said to Quinlan, still watching Brayden, who hadn’t answered.
“Don’t have time for one,” Quinlan said.
Boy would never learn.
“Bray?” Gavin said.
Brayden sighed. “She wanted to wait until after the shower to say anything. We didn’t want to take away from your and Taylor’s day. And it’s still early yet—”
Jock leaned back in his chair laughing.
“Daddy,” Tori said, turning. “You weren’t supposed to say anything. You promised Mom.”
Ryan shook his head. “You think he could keep quiet about something like a baby? My dad couldn’t.”
“True,” she answered, turning back to the television.
“You kids hungry?” Jock asked. Damn right. What man wouldn’t want to shout to the world when learning he was a father?
He frowned as a memory, long buried, flinted through his mind.
Well, most of his family was happy. If he just had the chance to . . .
No point in that. He was happy with how God had blessed him. Four grandkids and two more on the way.
He smiled. He and Kaitie had succeeded with their kids.
All but one.
He rubbed a hand over his heart, feeling the tightening.
“Dad?” Aiden asked, concern etched in his face.
He shook him off and stood. “Let’s go to Heather’s. Quin just said they had our table ready. I hope Andre isn’t cooking today, I really don’t care for some of his dishes.”
“Yeah!” Tori jumped up. “I want a burger with—” She stopped, watching Ryan.
Ryan watched someone outside. “He’s here.” He turned and hurried from the room, all but running out the door.
Tori hurried after him.
“Now where are they off to?” Gavin said, following. “I swear keeping up with those two is like keeping up with pet monkeys.”
They all walked out of the conference room and he saw Tori catch up with Ryan at the end of the hallway.
It never failed. Every time he saw those two together, something around his heart squeezed. They all walked into the lobby and saw Ryan standing by a large potted palm near one of the seating areas. Tori was shaking her head and pulling on his arm.
Ryan jerked away and Tori turned to look at them, her face pale and worried.
Brayden hurried over and asked, “Honey, what is it?”
She only shook her head.
Ryan was looking toward a group of men at the front desk.
Jock scanned the crowd. Maybe he’d get the soup and salad. Kaitie would be proud of him and his aging body just didn’t do food as well as it used to. He’d love a filet mignon and some potatoes, but he could just hear everyone if he ordered that.
“Ryan?” Gavin asked.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Tori asked.
What were they talking about?
“I’ll be damned,” Aiden muttered.
Jock looked up. Ryan was pointing. “Dad,” Ryan said to Gavin, “that’s the man we told you about. The man who got us away from Nina.”
That caught Jock’s attention.
“Where?” Jock asked, scanning the crowd, interested in seeing the man who saved his grandkids.
“There, Pops.”
All he saw was the back of a man holding a little girl, standing next to an exotically beautiful woman with light green eyes and a Mediterranean complexion.
“Are you certain?” Gavin asked.
Ryan nodded. “Yep, that’s him. That’s Rob Roy.”
The man turned and Jock looked, studied him. Something . . . He turned more so that his profile showed.
Jock’s pulse slowed, then sped.
Could it be? No. No, it wasn’t. Or was it?
But then those eyes slammed into him like fists to his gut and he knew. Jock stumbled back.
Chapter 13
Ian turned from the front desk, wishing the older man behind the desk hadn’t recognized him, but that’s what lif
e was about, he supposed. Of all the employees, he had to get the one that still worked here from when he’d been a kid. Fate loved to fuck with her minions. And he had used his name and come to the family hotel. He could have very well stayed at the Four Seasons down the road, but didn’t. He always stayed in Kinncaid hotels if he could.
It had been so long since it mattered whether or not anyone recognized him, he wasn’t certain what to do about it.
Ian Kinncaid. What kind of man was he that his own name took him a moment to recognize himself?
They had two adjoining suites. When the concierge had recognized him, old Thomas had tried to give Ian his penthouse apartment, but Ian declined. It was one thing to be recognized. One thing to stay in the family hotel. Another to walk in and assume you were home.
He had no home.
Not anymore. He’d done too many things, been gone too long to ever feel at home anywhere this normal. Place smelled like it always did. Not like many hotels he’d been in—that fake floral scent hiding the smell of bleach and disinfectant.
No, the Highland had always smelled like the outdoors to him. Somehow.
“Here’s your rooms, Mr. Kinncaid. Though I still believe you’d much prefer the penthouse,” Thomas said, sliding over the plastic cards.
“Thank you, Thomas, and one more thing. This is a quiet trip. I expect the same amount of discretion as any other guest.”
The old man’s gray brows beetled on a frown. “But you’re not just any other guest, Mr. Kinncaid. You’re a . . . well. You’re a Kinncaid.”
“Does the word ‘mistake’ float through that brain of yours now, boyo?” Rori asked to the side of him. He ignored her.
A tug on his leg had him glancing down. Ryan Kinncaid stood there in khaki pants, navy pullover, with a tentative smile. “Hi, Mr. Roy.”
Bloody hell.
Mistake.
Ian ignored Rori’s cough and mutter. He couldn’t help it—he grinned into the kid’s freckled face and summer blue eyes. “Hello, Ryan.”
Ryan frowned. “I heard Mr. Thomas. You’re a Kinncaid. I thought you were Mr. Roy.”
Wonderful, just bloody marvelous. He glanced over his shoulder and saw his brothers and damn it all . . . Jock. He took a deep breath. Those dark eyes more lined, the face more haggard than he remembered, but still hard and fierce.
“I’m any number of things and people, kid.”
Yes, this had been a mistake. But mistake or no, he could see they were all well and fine. He could let them know to be careful if nothing else. He glanced back at Ryan standing to his side. He hefted Darya up and turned, passing one of the keys to John and another to Rori.
“You have a penthouse apartment here?” she said with a raise of brow. “Wonders never cease. Mr. Rich boy turned—”
He merely held her stare, his own anger at the fact this was not going as planned—hell, the plan was shot out of the water—until she shook her head.
Her eyes moved slowly from him to his side. “Hello. Ryan, isn’t it?” She looked back at him. “Looks as if your idea of just a few days and no contact isn’t going to hold.”
He stared past her to the men standing by the palm plants. Aiden was grinning, Gavin was shaking his head, as was Brayden, and Quinlan was walking back toward the ballroom.
Hell.
Roth slapped him on his shoulder.
Ian sighed, and said to John, “Johnno, check the security. I want to know every guard on duty, and a list of the employees.”
John held up the keys. “We’re still going to need these?”
Hell if he knew.
Aiden shook his head again and started forward. Two feet away he grinned, then stepped forward and wrapped Ian and Darya in a hug.
“’Bout time you came home, bro,” Aiden said.
Ian felt Darya stiffen and burrow into him.
“Lyubimaya, ne volnooysya.”
She only shook her head. He would make it all right.
Brayden was next to hug him and then Gavin. Jock stayed glued to the floor by the palm. No surprise there.
Old resentment started to worm its way through him.
Screw it. He had more important things to worry about. Jock Kinncaid was the most stubborn man Ian had ever met, and some things would simply never change.
“Who’s this?” Aiden asked, looking at Rori and at Darya. Then his gaze landed on the other men.
Ian sighed. “Could we do this elsewhere? This is rather . . . open.”
His eyes scanned the crowd again, noting two men in suits stood near the elevators. His gaze shifted to the front door. Two more men stood there looking at him.
Damn.
“Two at the doors,” Rori said.
Roth slid up to one side of him. John stepped up closer to their back. He felt Rori start to bend down. She’d strapped an ankle holster and her clutch piece on in the car. Thanks to Roth.
“No,” he said, grabbing her hand.
Without looking at Aiden he said, “We need a close secure location. Conference room still on the ground floor?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Johnno, call Pete.”
They all stood there talking quietly, as if meeting up. Ryan and Tori were shoving back and forth, Gavin and Brayden watching them.
Ian tightened his hold on Darya. He glanced at the hallway back toward the ballroom, where Quinlan had disappeared to. Idiot probably went for Mom. That was all he needed, another person to cover.
John handed him the phone.
Pete Jones answered as he always did with a simple, “What?”
“What? Pete, tell me you put men on me.”
A moment of silence passed before Pete’s voice, as solemn as the man himself, said, “That would depend on your location.”
“I don’t care to give you that information.”
Pete sighed. “We’re working on the damn leak and this phone is secure. Are you stateside yet?”
“Affirmative.”
The two near the front door shifted, one put his hand in his jacket.
Ian heard the faint swish of Roth pulling his gun.
“I’ve ordered men to watch the hotel, figuring you’d show up sooner or later.”
Well, hell. “Have I gotten that predictable?”
Pete snorted. “More a hopeful hunch.”
“Descriptions, ranks and names.”
“Don’t shoot them, for the love of God. You have any idea how hard it is to find half-ass decent agents these days?”
“Pete.”
“Four. Evans, five-eight, blond, blue.”
Man number one by the elevator.
“Becker, five-nine, brown, brown.”
Elevator man number two.
“Callum and Fisher. Both six even, Callum lanky, brown and hazel. Fisher, linebacker, bald.”
Match. “Callum and Fisher by the door,” he said to Roth. “Check their IDs.” To John he said, “Becker and Evans at the elevators, Evans is the arctic one.”
John relayed the message to Snake and Snake and Roth moved off toward their targets.
“Let me know who and where or you might find a couple of agents with bullets in their brains.” He clicked the phone shut, knowing Pete would now know where to get in touch with him. Fine.
The phone rang.
“What?” Ian asked in tandem with Pete’s own verbosity.
“You still need to learn some manners,” Pete’s nonfluctuating voice said.
“I learned from you.” He watched Roth and Snake talking to the guys and checking their IDs.
“True. How long you in town?”
“Don’t know.” He scanned the crowd again and stepped forward, jerking his head to Aiden who raised his brows and walked back across the foyer into a door marked Private and down the hallway.
“We need to meet.”
Yes, they did.
He turned and saw Rori was directly behind him. “I want a name, Pete.”
“I know that. We’re working on it.”
“Work harder.”
With that he flicked the phone shut and handed it off to John as they walked down the hallway.
The receptionist frowned at them as they all trouped in and Aiden said, “Sally, we’re ordering room service in the conference room. The ladies will be joining us shortly.”
She nodded and picked up the phone. “Anything in particular?”
He shook his head. “I don’t care. We’ll let you know in a minute.”
“Yes, sir.”
The conference room had a faux fireplace in it, a long conference table that sat sixteen, a sitting area in front of the fireplace, and a built-in entertainment/conferencing area in one wall.
The door clicked shut behind them.
*****
She watched all the people around them. They’d ridden on another plane and then in the car to this big building.
The man carried her like he always did, his voice gruff, reminding her of pebbles falling on stones.
Where were they? Maybe he was taking her to see Zoy?
Before, in the area out front, he’d become tense, his shoulders and arms like bands of steel, his voice low and cold. It reminded her of the night he’d taken her from the monster’s den.
Her tummy rumbled and he looked at her and grinned, those hard features softening. “Are you hungry, pumpkin?”
She nodded and laid her head back on his shoulder. He smelled nice and funny. It was that stick he smoked. Aunt Sonya’s man had smoked those. She didn’t like them. Wrinkling her nose, she smelled the better scent on his lapel and his coat was soft against her face. Who were all these people?
She knew and understood the lady was Rori, and there was the man John and Roth and Tanner and Snake. He didn’t look like a snake, but he had a snake on his bald head. She frowned. The last two were the last behind them, all walking down the hallway.
There were other men. Five. No. One. Two. Three. Four. And a boy and another girl.
She looked around as he turned with her in his arms, one of the other men saying something that made him grunt.
She leaned back and watched.
Ian said something in English to another dark-haired man. She looked from him to the man who held her. They both had dark hair, and the same blue eyes, the same eyebrows, but Ian had a streak through his eyebrow where no hair grew. She reached up and touched it. His gaze met hers and his eyes squinted at the edges when he smiled at her.
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