He clenched and unclenched his jaw as he followed her up the stairs, tried like hell not to look at her ass and failed. Just like all the other times, last night he’d proved to be the fuckup everyone thought he was. When was he going to learn?
She was waiting at the door when he rounded the corner, arms crossed over her ample chest, fire flashing in her eyes. He stuck the key in the lock, pushed the door open and waited while she marched by him with her head held high and her pride wrapped around her like a shield.
His own temper nearly at the breaking point, he slammed the door and dropped his keys on the small half-moon entry table his mother’d had in their house when he was growing up.
The air-conditioning was the only thing that marginally cooled him out. He went straight to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and popped the top. Then guzzled half the thing before turning and looking over the kitchen counter toward Nicole, standing in the middle of the living room turning her nose up at his measly furnishings.
Was his ego hurt that she thought he lived in a ghetto? It shouldn’t be. She didn’t mean anything to him, not really. Hot sex and a hot bod. That’s all she was. Instead of being everyone’s fuckup, it was time he started using that million-dollar brain God had given him. “You lied to me.”
She turned slowly to face him as he came around the corner into the living room, blocking her path to the door. “I did not.”
“Then you conveniently omitted the truth.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, you know. That doesn’t work on me.” He brought the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow.
“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it’s not working. I’ve seen you naked, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. Your little distract-and-dismay technique worked. For about a day. Gotta admit. You were good. And that whole, you’re-only-the-second-guy-I’ve-been-with and I’ve-never-had-a-one-night-stand thing? Had me going.”
She dropped her arms. “I never had a one-night stand before you.”
“Tell it to somebody who cares. You’re a lying little piece of—”
She stomped her foot and curled her fingers into her fists. “Don’t you dare even say it. You don’t believe me? Fine. But it’s the truth. One guy. Three years ago. It wasn’t all that memorable and I didn’t particularly enjoy it. So I never had the urge to try again until—” She closed her mouth tight. Glared at him, hard. “And I don’t know what my sister told you, but I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t tell you everything.” She tipped her head and shot his anger right back his way. “But then why would I? You’re just some hustler I picked up at a beach bar.”
He moved in close and leaned down so she got the full effect of his temper. “Don’t fuck with me. You told me your bronze was gone, but it’s not, is it? You’ve got it. You’ve always had it.”
“Do you think I’m stupid enough to just give it away?” she scoffed. “Security, Billy. That’s all I’ve got. But the bronze isn’t the real issue here, is it? It’s the numbers on the bottom that matter. And I know mine by heart. I always have. Just like I know what’s on the bottom of my mother’s sculpture. If Hailey thinks she can go around me to get what she needs, she’s going to be sorely mistaken. Our mother isn’t going to let Daddy’s little treasure hunt be finished. She’s got her own reasons for that, and if Hailey knew what they were, she wouldn’t believe them. I guarantee our mother won’t help Hailey. Which means I’m the only one who can.”
As he listened to her words, Billy saw a little bit of himself in Nicole. All the years he’d resented Rafe for being older, wiser, the son who could do no wrong. Is this how he looked? Vengeful? Bitter? Empty?
“Why do you hate her so much?” he asked, seeing her, and himself, in a whole new light.
“Who? Hailey?” Nicole’s eyes widened. “I don’t hate her.”
“What do you call it?”
She looked around the room as if searching for an answer. “Competition,” she finally said.
“Not everything in life’s about winning.”
“It’s not?”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“Then why are you here, Billy? Are you telling me you aren’t trying to prove something to someone by helping my sister? That you’re just doing it out of the goodness of your heart?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t buy that for a second. You and I are way too much alike for that to be true.”
Surprise rippled through him as her words registered. In the silence his chest tightened and a whole lot of aha! pinged around in his brain. For a guy with an above-average IQ, he was a class-A dumbass.
All this time he’d been telling himself he’d been helping Hailey out of friendship, that doing this would prove to Rafe and Pete and everyone else that he wasn’t the fuckup they all thought he was. But that wasn’t the truth, not really. His mother was in a hospital in Puerto Rico, probably dying right this very minute, and he was in Miami looking for a piece of metal that, in the grand scheme of things, meant very little to his life. Every time Rafe had called over the last month to ask him to come back, he’d given some lame-ass excuse why he couldn’t. The reality was he was hiding. Pretending nothing bad was happening. That life was just fine and dandy. Proving to himself that when all was said and done, he didn’t need family. Didn’t need anyone for that matter. Not his aunts and uncles in Puerto Rico. Not his brother or his brother’s new wife. Not even his mother, the only person who’d ever really believed in him.
He swallowed hard as his stomach dropped. Then nearly came out of his skin when the phone rang. He reached for it with a hand he hoped like hell didn’t shake. “Yeah.”
“Jesus, Billy. I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. Turn your fucking cell on.”
Rafe. Wonderful. Just what he needed right now.
He reached a hand up to rub his suddenly throbbing forehead. “I was busy. What do you want?”
Rafe, the ever-confident, always-in-control rock of the family, heaved out a sigh that sounded like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I need you to come home. Now. And this time no excuses. The doctor just left.” He paused. And over the line, Billy heard Rafe’s voice crack. “They don’t expect her to make it to morning. Billy, this is it.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She was as nervous as a virgin on prom night.
Madeline Roarke stared out at the rush of people wandering up and down the Hollywood Beach Boardwalk. Boardwalk was a silly term in her mind. There were no “boards” here, not like the boardwalks in New Jersey and Delaware. Just a long stretch of grimy pavement that ran up and down the never-ending beach.
Behind her, music played from the open door of an icecream parlor. The sun was starting to set, and a warm glow she didn’t feel reflected off the water and sand and the faces of each person passing by her hiding place.
She shouldn’t have come. But when she’d gotten the note…she’d had no choice.
Her hand slid around the strap of her purse, her eyes darted from side to side behind her oversize Ralph Lauren sunglasses. Her stomach tightened as she looked for anyone waiting for her. But no one had paid her one ounce of attention since she’d stepped foot on the boardwalk. No one recognized her. No one even cared who she was.
That was a good thing, right? Maybe the note was nothing but a prank.
Shoring up her courage, she took one step away from the building where she’d been hiding in the shadows, and made it as far as the Hollywood Grill before a boy, no more than eight, came barreling out of nowhere and slammed into her from the side.
She shrieked and whipped around just as ketchup and mustard splattered her white slacks and ran down to drip onto her Ferragamo flats.
“Sorry,” the kid mumbled, holding a hot dog in his hand, then tore off around her and hollered, “Wait up!” to his buddies.
Disgusted with the child, the location, at the world in general, Madeline shook the red and yellow goo from her fingers and grimaced. Nothing was
worth this. She didn’t care who had sent her that blasted note. Someone was toying with her. Had probably paid that kid to run into her. No one knew about what she’d done.
“Look at that,” a voice whispered in her ear. “Déjà vu, Maddie?”
Madeline froze. Swallowed. And turned slowly to look into the face of a woman she despised.
Lucy Walthers smiled like the innocent girl she wasn’t, tucked her short blonde hair behind her ears and nodded at Madeline’s dripping fingers. “If I were you, I’d find a napkin. Wouldn’t want anyone remembering this image. Strikes a little too close to home, doesn’t it?”
Madeline’s throat closed, and her heart fired rapid beats. Without a word to Lucy, she ducked into the café and found napkins on a nearby table.
Could she run? She thought about it as she cleaned her hands and wiped at her shoes. But how far would she get? The fact the little tramp was standing out there right now instead of the police meant she wanted something. Did she think Madeline had that stupid bronze? What else could this be about?
The look of victory in the younger woman’s eyes grated Madeline’s last nerve when she stepped back into the cool January air. “Let’s walk, Maddie. What do you say?”
Madeline clutched the strap of her bag as she turned and Lucy fell in step next to her. Her eyes flicked over each face they passed, her brain thinking through her options. But when Lucy started talking, the only things Madeline focused on were the other woman’s words.
“The way I see it, Madeline, you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. One word from me and the police will be breaking down your door.”
Here it came. The threat. Madeline held her breath. She’d thought Bryan had been alone that night. She’d gone there to confront him. To tell him she’d had enough of his lies and cheating and his obsession with the Roarkes. She’d wanted a divorce. And freedom. And she’d wanted him to pay.
That freedom now looked a million miles away.
“Nothing to say to that?” Lucy asked.
Words lodged in Madeline’s throat. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing much. Just your help in one very small matter.”
She stopped walking to turn toward her enemy. “Why should I do anything for you?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll go right back to those Chicago detectives and tell them I suddenly remembered something important.”
“They won’t believe you.”
“Won’t they? Don’t you think it’s only a matter of time before they realize Hailey wasn’t even there that night? What about your alibi, Madeline? Where were you?”
Madeline’s voice dropped to a whisper so the people passing couldn’t hear her. “I should have gone upstairs and gutted you while I was at it.”
Lucy grinned. “Lucky for us, you didn’t.” Her smile dropped. “Now here’s what you’re going to do, Madeline. You’re going to get me Eleanor’s bronze.”
“I would rather—”
“I know you would. But you’ll get it just the same. You and Eleanor are thick as thieves at that stupid country club. You’ll get it, and you’ll bring it to me. And if you don’t…” She shrugged. “I think the police would love to know how you were waiting in the shadows for your dear beloved husband to come downstairs, then murdered him in cold blood and framed Hailey for the whole thing.”
Madeline’s skin chilled. Sickness welled in her stomach. But she lifted her chin, determined not to give this woman an inch. “You live in a fantasy world.” She turned to leave. “Get your own damn bronze.”
Lucy chuckled at her back. “Don’t be so sure, Maddie,” she called. “Do me a favor. When you get home, check your earrings. I’m pretty sure you’re missing a pearl. A South Sea pearl, hanging from a little silver catch. White, I believe, isn’t it? Or was.”
Madeline’s feet stilled. And in the bustle of the boardwalk, her heart all but stopped.
Lucy circled around to stand in front of Madeline. And in her soulless black eyes, Madeline knew she was cornered.
Lucy tipped her head to the side. “Now let’s go through this one more time. Eleanor hasn’t been cooperating. That’s where you come in. You’re going to get us Eleanor’s bronze. And you’re going to do it tomorrow.”
“Well, that was productive.”
Hailey ignored Shane’s snarky comment and stared at the key in her hand as they exited her father’s bank in downtown Miami. Ever since the incident in the parking lot of the Calder Race Course, Shane had been in another of his moods, though this one was way more sarcastic and just a little suggestive.
Okay, not touching that one. She’d decided—when she was standing in a dressing room at some no-name mall, slipping into clean clothes that weren’t covered in parking-lot grime—that his enjoyment of the push-pull power struggle between them was a really bad sign. Because she liked it, too. And she had a strange feeling one of them was going to get seriously burned when it bubbled to a head.
“It looked like a safety-deposit-box key,” she said, pushing the thoughts aside. “I just assumed that’s what it was.”
“I’m getting the impression we can’t assume anything where your father’s concerned.” He walked next to her, his hands shoved into the front pockets of new low-slung denim that fit him like a glove. The long-sleeved black Under Armour shirt with the white stripes down the sleeves looked damn sexier on him than any hunky sports model she’d seen in Sports Illustrated.
She averted her gaze because, yeah, just looking at him in those new duds did things to her blood she didn’t like. “True. But why would he give it to me without some kind of explanation as to what it goes to?”
He tugged the baseball cap lower over her face and frowned. “Couldn’t you have found a Cubs hat on that rack? Shit, I’d even settle for a Red Sox cap at this point.”
“You don’t like the Yankees? They’re like America’s team.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at her like she had three eyeballs. “You’re sick, you know that?”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “It’s only baseball, Maxwell.”
He slapped a hand against his heart. “Only baseball? Only baseball? That’s only my heart you’re ripping to shreds and throwing on the sidewalk.”
She rolled her eyes and kept walking. “Please tell me you aren’t one of those guys.”
“What guys?” he said, catching up.
“Those guys. The ones who don’t have a life from March to October because they’re either at the ball field or glued to their TVs. The ones who base their year on whether their team wins the pennant, then plot ways to murder their Yankee neighbors when the Yankees take the World Series. Again.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She shook her head and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Dammit, she liked him. More with every passing hour.
“And if I don’t have a life,” he added, that clicking coming from his pocket again, “it’s not because of baseball.”
“What’s it from then?”
“Work, I guess. These days my job is my life.”
She stopped and looked at him. “A job is what you do. Not who you are.”
“You don’t really know who I am, Hailey.”
She studied him. Tried to read his mood but couldn’t.
No, he was right. There were facets to Shane Maxwell she definitely didn’t know. And suddenly wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. Yes, he intrigued her. And yes, she was attracted to him—wildly attracted to him. But the distance he kept between them, the way he seemed to need to be here helping but didn’t appear to like it a lot of the time was a contradiction she just didn’t understand.
She kept walking as thoughts of what he’d said ran through her mind. The things he must have seen working homicide. She’d seen her fair share of death and cruelty in the Keys, but she knew instinctively it was nothing compared to what he witnessed every day in Chicago. No wonder he kept to himself and was impossible
to read.
A thought occurred to her as they turned the corner and headed for their rental two blocks down, one she’d had numerous times over the past three months but hadn’t thought of the last few days until right now. “Why aren’t you married?”
“How did we go from your dad’s wacko mind to my marital status?”
Good question. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to answer. It’s just not exciting.” When he didn’t elaborate, she was sure he was letting the subject drop. But then he surprised her when he said, “I thought about it once. Briefly.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
There was more, though. A whole lot more he wasn’t saying. She could sense it in his suddenly tense shoulders and the fact he was looking down at the pavement and not at her.
Oh, yeah. He had facets.
They walked another half block in silence, darting around other pedestrians before he said, “What about you?”
“I think you already know my marital status.”
“Not that. Why did you marry Sullivan in the first place? You two don’t have a thing in common.”
“Of course we do.”
He shot her a yeah, right look. “He’s a thief, you’re a cop. He’s into art, you couldn’t care less—”
“I like art.”
“Not like he does. Thing is, I can’t figure why any woman would marry him, let alone you.”
“I’m not married to the man anymore. You’d get further if you asked your sister.”
He frowned. “She already told me why. Hell, she’s told everyone. Something about him speaking Spanish and…” He stopped himself, almost as if he’d said too much.
And Hailey smiled, because this facet of Shane Maxwell, at least, she knew how to handle. “Sex. Yeah. There was that.”
He grimaced. “Christ Jake. I don’t need that image in my head.”
At his repulsed expression, Hailey stopped. Could it be…? “Are you jealous?”
His brows drew together. “Of what?”