The rage he’d felt about the stupid Dylan prick returned, hotter and more vicious. “Jesus Christ, seriously? She left you alone? With a baby sister to look after?”
Iris gave a funny little shrug. “She didn’t want to stay and I couldn’t make her. I just…decided I’d be a better mother to Jamie than Mom ever was.”
The look on her face changed at that and he knew what she was thinking.
“Hey.” He tapped her chin gently. “Remember what I said? No more beating yourself up. Sounds to me like you pretty much raised your sister on your own. And the fact that both of you are alive and well, given that, is pretty goddamn amazing, okay?”
The tightness in her mouth eased, the corner curling in a way that reached way down inside him and pulled. Hard.
Luckily, before he could examine that pulling sensation too closely, his phone chimed with a new text message and, shifting his hold on Iris, he reached out to grab the annoying piece of technology, scowling when he saw who the text was from. Quinn, being his usual autocratic self and asking Zane where the hell he was and saying that he was needed for a meeting with Duchess.
Zane was very tempted to tell his brother what he could do with his damn meeting, but he had a suspicion it was going to be about Iris, and that meant he couldn’t. Ignoring the very real reluctance that clenched inside him, Zane carefully released Iris and began the process of untangling their limbs.
“Where are you going?” There was a plaintive note in her voice, and he couldn’t stop the small burst of satisfaction that rolled through him at the sound of it.
“I have to go meet Quinn.”
“Really?” She pushed back the inky fall of hair that had flopped over her eyes. “Now?”
Her face was flushed, her mouth full and red, tearstains on her cheeks, and she looked fragile and vulnerable and so damn sexy that for a second he debated telling Quinn to go screw himself. But no, of course he couldn’t do that. Not when her life was at stake.
“Yes, now,” he replied, getting out of bed and reaching for his boxers. “It’ll be something to do with your outstanding warrant.”
“Oh.” Her gaze drifted down to his groin. “You don’t look like you want to go.”
“I don’t.” He tugged up his boxers. “There are other things I’d much rather be doing.”
Iris slipped from the bed and came over to him, sliding her hand down over the cotton of his underwear, the feel of her fingers on him making his breath catch. “Yeah, and I know which things.” She leaned against him, all naked softness and feminine heat, her palm resting over his cock. A smile turned her mouth. “You sure you have to leave? I’m thinking I have a favor I need to return.”
Oh, he’d love her to return that particular favor. Just not quite yet.
Reaching down, he slid his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away. “I need to see what’s happening with your warrant first, okay?”
She pouted. “Fine. Your loss.”
Her obvious disappointment made him smile and he tugged her against him. “Hold that thought, okay? I’m planning on coming back here right after the meeting.” He gave the inside of her wrist a stroke with his thumb. “And believe me, I’ll be wanting you to return that favor. In fact”—he bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers—“I’m going to insist on it.”
She gave a delicate shiver. “Maybe I’ll have changed my mind.”
“Better not.” He nipped her lower lip in warning. “Or I’ll have to punish you again.”
A snort escaped her. “Or maybe this time I’ll punish you.” She blinked up at him, her eyes searching and sharp. “I bet I could get some secrets out of you.”
Yeah, like that was going to happen. His secrets weren’t for public consumption, no matter how hard she might try to get them out of him.
But you have no problem with stealing hers.
Well, no, he didn’t. She’d obviously needed to tell someone about her sister, needed to trust someone, and he was the perfect person. He’d never betray her. But it wasn’t going to be reciprocal. He didn’t want to talk about the people he’d failed with anyone, not even Iris.
“You can certainly try,” he said and kissed her again before she could reply.
After a moment, Iris gave a sigh, then shoved at him. “Go on then. Leave. See if I care.” Turning back to the bed, she grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around her, sitting on the mattress and watching as he reached for the rest of his clothes.
“So, you’re a soldier then,” she commented as he pulled on his pants, then reached into the bag he’d brought along the night before, extracting a dark blue business shirt.
Zane shrugged on the shirt, doing up the buttons. “Special Forces.”
“That’s pretty…fancy, isn’t it?”
He grinned at that. “I guess that’s one way to describe it.”
She eyed him as he tucked his shirt in, did up the cuffs, then reached for his jacket. “Why aren’t you wearing your actual uniform?”
The question made him uneasy for some reason. In fact, the whole way she was looking at him, as if she was seeing something in him he couldn’t see himself, made him uneasy. “Because I’m not technically a soldier at the moment. But not for too much longer. I’m going to be reenlisting as soon as I’m finished here.”
An expression crossed her face, too fast for him to recognize. “Oh, right.” The words were curiously flat. “Nothing beats the army, huh?”
Was that disappointment in her voice?
Zane, in the process of adjusting the lapels of his jacket, paused, glancing at her. She stared back, the look in her eyes impossible to interpret.
“I can’t stay,” he said, not really sure why he felt the need to say it, only that it had to be out there, that she had to know. “The army is where I belong.”
She gave a sudden scowl. “Hey, I don’t give a shit what you do. We only slept together, Zane. Doesn’t mean marriage or anything.” Turning away, she wrapped herself more securely in the sheet, flopping back down on the bed. “I guess I’ll just wait here until you get back.”
He stared at her, uncomfortably aware that he’d hurt her in some way. Why? Because he was leaving? Had she wanted him to stay?
Why are you surprised? She’s not a woman who trusts easily and yet she gave her trust to you.
Last night she certainly had. Then again, she couldn’t expect for there to be anything more than sex between them. They’d only known each other a few days for one, and then there was the fact that she had a drug cartel on her back, and a sister in foster care. Getting involved with someone like him would be the last thing she’d want, surely? Anyway, even if she did, it wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t want a relationship and he never would. The army was his future and he was happy with that.
You shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have gotten her to trust you.
No, he shouldn’t have, and even after he’d left the hotel room and was on his way to meet Quinn, he couldn’t stop thinking about that. Or the look on Iris’s face, the ferocious scowl and the flickering of something he couldn’t quite read in the depths of her eyes. It lingered like the heat in a burn, making him ache in a way that had nothing to do with the unfulfilled physical desire that still gripped him.
Yeah, it was a good thing he’d be leaving soon. Good for both of them.
Fifteen minutes later, following the directions that Quinn had given him, he found himself standing outside a tall, clean-looking building in the center of downtown Austin that surely couldn’t be the offices of a bail bond company. They were usually scummy, dingy, run-down, and full of criminals, and they definitely did not look like the headquarters of a particularly affluent accounting company.
Apparently Duchess Bail Bonds was not your usual bail bond company.
Stepping out of the elevator on the seventh floor into a neutral-toned, light, clean reception area, Zane was soon clear that nothing about Duchess was your usual bail bond company. There were flower
s on the reception desk. Fucking flowers. And they actually had a reception desk with an honest-to-God receptionist, a blonde with bouncing curls and perfect makeup, who gave him a friendly smile as he approached. “You’re Mr. Redmond?”
“Yes,” he said, glancing past the blonde at the glass-walled offices behind her. Jesus. Glass-walled offices. “I’m here to meet—”
“Ms. Hammond,” the blonde finished. “She’s expecting you. Please go through.”
Holy shit. This place was nice. Professional even. Certainly nicer than the hotel that housed Lone Star Bounty. In fact, it was the kind of office he’d always wished Lone Star had, not a grotty, fading hotel that smelled of cigars and spilled liquor.
Zane went past the reception desk to the office the blonde had indicated and pushed open the door.
Inside was a large, airy space with big floor-to-ceiling windows that gave impressive views over downtown Austin. The neutral decor was here as well, except there were no flowers on the big desk, only a slim computer screen and a neat stack of papers to one side. And a woman who was leaning back against it, her elegant fingers resting lightly on the edge on either side of her.
At the other end of the room were a meeting table and several chairs, currently filled by a number of people he didn’t recognize and one he did.
“Mr. Redmond,” the woman leaning against the desk said in a cool voice. “So glad you could join us.”
It was the woman he’d seen at Lone Star a couple of days earlier, tall and slender and perfectly put together in a cream-colored pencil skirt and a sheer white blouse, a lacy camisole underneath. Her platinum-blond hair was swept up into an elegant bun, emphasizing delicate, narrow features with a sweet little rosebud of a mouth. Her eyes, though, were the light, icy blue of a winter’s day and just as cool.
Lily Hammond aka Duchess. And she looked like one.
“Finally,” came Quinn’s voice. “Where the fuck were you?”
His brother was lounging in a chair that he’d pushed away from the neat little meeting table down the other end of the office.
“Relax. I was only twenty-five minutes tops, so you might want to take it down a notch,” Zane replied, keeping his voice as cool as Ms. Lily Hammond’s. “Anyway, I was making sure Iris was okay. You have a problem with that?”
“I guess that all depends on what ‘making sure she’s okay’ entails.” Quinn’s expression was belligerent, his eyes glittering with barely concealed temper. He was pissed. Again.
Zane ignored him. Shutting the door, he took a step toward Lily and stuck out his hand instead. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Zane Redmond.”
“And she’s Attila the Hun,” Quinn said without a trace of humor. “Attila, this is my brother Zane.”
She gave Zane a slight smile, but didn’t move or take his proffered hand. “Lily Hammond. But most people call me Duchess.”
Shrugging off the momentary awkwardness of standing there with his hand out like a tool, Zane shoved it back into his pocket instead. “Pleased to meet you, Duchess.”
Something like detached amusement danced in her eyes, though he couldn’t imagine why. “A polite Redmond,” she murmured. “Amazing. We should give you a medal or something.”
“Stop flirting with my brother,” Quinn growled, shifting impatiently in his chair. “We’ve got more important shit to do.”
Duchess sent him a wintry glance. “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar, Quinn. Or haven’t you learned that yet?”
Quinn stared back at her, his gaze baleful. “It’s not flies I want to catch.”
Zane studied the pair of them curiously. There were undercurrents here, definite undercurrents. And judging by the expressions on the others’ faces in the room, they were aware of them too.
Duchess gave a casual, elegant shrug. “Let’s just ignore him for the moment. Zane, you won’t know the rest of my team. This is Nora, Rhys, and West. You already met my sister Rose. She’s currently doing reception duties.”
The Duchess team was as unlike the Duchess herself as the Lone Star hotel was to the clean, bright, professional offices they were now sitting in.
Nora was a small, curvaceous woman in a tank, dusty jeans, and boots, her long, honey-blond hair in a ponytail worn low at the nape of her neck. She wore a black cowboy hat pushed back on her head, and there was a very serviceable Colt on her hip. Sitting in the chair next to hers was Rhys, a big guy in the same uniform most of the others were wearing, jeans and a T-shirt. But while Nora gave Zane a friendly enough smile, the expression on Rhys’s lean face was almost blank. He stared at Zane rather unnervingly, his dark eyes guarded in a way that reminded Zane weirdly of Iris’s. West, by comparison, jerked his chin up by way of greeting and gave Zane a brief smile. He looked older than the rest of them, late thirties probably, his blond hair in a buzz-cut. Definitely a guy who’d seen some action from the looks of things, and probably of the military kind.
None of them was even remotely the same pencil-skirted, business type that Duchess was, and the contrast was, he had to admit, a little strange. Yet for some reason he found that comforting. He didn’t know what Quinn was doing involving Duchess in this business with Iris, but at least her team looked like they knew what they were doing.
“Good to meet you,” Zane said, giving them all a nod in return. Then he glanced at Quinn. “I presume you’re going to tell me what all of this has to do with Iris?”
“I see you get on with him about as well as Rush,” Duchess murmured. “Why am I not surprised?”
Quinn’s gaze glittered with irritation, but he didn’t look in her direction. “Because unfortunately Duchess knows the bail bond company that has Iris’s bond. And if we can get them off her back, that’s one less thing we have to deal with. Christ knows she doesn’t need them and the cartel after her.”
Well, that made sense.
Zane flicked a look at Duchess, whose cool smile hadn’t wavered. She looked as slim and delicate as a sapling. With a core of solid titanium.
“Quinn’s been explaining why he needs my help,” she said. “And I have to say I’m considering making him beg.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” Quinn growled. “This isn’t about you and me.”
“Why, Quinn, I didn’t realize you felt that way.” She gave him a sweet smile. “I’m touched.”
“Jesus, you two, get a room,” Nora said with the air of someone who’d seen this particular drama play out many times before. “Can we go now? Quinn isn’t the only one with shit to do.”
“In a minute.” The sweet smile disappeared from Duchess’s face, her expression now wholly professional. “Quinn was in the process of explaining exactly what’s in it for us.”
Quinn sat back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “How about the sheer joy of doing something for someone else?”
“Yes, I’m quite the Samaritan,” Duchess said dryly. “Seriously. What’s in it for us?”
Tension slowly gathered between Zane’s shoulder blades, because it looked like the same argument he’d had with his brothers was going to play out here. Fuck, did no one want to do anyone a favor in this goddamn town? Just because it was the right thing to do? Did it all have to be quid pro quo and I’ll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine?
“First of all,” Zane said coolly, “you’d better tell me what’s in it for Iris.”
Someone at the meeting table snickered as one of Duchess’s perfect blond brows rose skyward. “Another cocky Redmond. What a surprise.” She gave him a look that had probably quelled lesser men. Luckily Zane wasn’t a lesser man and remained determinedly unquelled. One narrow shoulder rose in an almost imperceptible shrug. “Okay, fine. We can get the Dallas agents off her back if I take on her bond, which they’ll probably be glad to do, since they have more than enough on their plate at the moment.”
Zane held her gaze, stare for stare. “And that’s a problem for you, how? Just means she’ll owe the bail money to you inste
ad of the agents in Dallas.”
“It’s a problem for me when Quinn is suggesting I don’t take her in.”
Of course. It would leave Duchess out of pocket, and if there was one thing a bail bond agency couldn’t be if they wanted to remain solvent, it was out of pocket.
“Fine,” Zane said without missing a beat. “We’ll buy her bond.”
“Hey,” Quinn snapped. “Who’s fucking running this show? You or me?”
Duchess settled back against the desk and folded her arms, watching the pair of them with that same cool amusement. “Oh, excellent. I do like the theater.”
“Hell, it’s better than Cats, that’s for sure.” West’s voice was as deep and gravelly as Quinn’s, his expression as amused as his boss’s.
Nora was grinning. “Nice to see other people arguing for a change,” she said with some satisfaction.
Rhys said nothing, only stared watchfully.
Impatience coiled inside Zane. This was ridiculous. Why should he have to stand here justifying helping Iris to all these people? It was like watching his father go on and on about how they had to stick together now that their mother was gone, all the while drinking himself into insensibility. Not giving a shit that Quinn was always angry all the time. Or that Rush spent every night in the local bar getting drunk and chasing tail. Or that his youngest son needed his father to be there for him, too busy drowning in bourbon to notice.
Not caring that the family he was so proud of was disintegrating around his ears while he did nothing.
They were just like him. Selfish.
“I don’t give a shit who’s running this,” he said to his highly irritated brother. “I’ll even give you the fucking money if that’s the issue. But it’s not, because once we get the cartel handled, then—”
“The cartel?” Duchess interrupted, her voice suddenly sharp. “What cartel?”
“Oh, yeah,” Quinn drawled. “I forgot to tell you. She’s being hunted by the cartel she was couriering for. That’s why she’s a skip. The DA was going to make her testify against them.”
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