by Lisa Childs
Farrah Colton stood in her domain, gazing around with the same lost expression on her face. “There’s nothing to do,” she murmured. “Tatum’s restaurant catered everything and cleaned up.”
“That’s good,” Kylie assured her.
The older woman nodded. “Yes, and the food was good.”
“Excellent,” Kylie said, though she hadn’t had much more than a bite of anything. She’d felt too sick to eat.
“There you are,” Abigail Jones said as she joined them in the kitchen.
Kylie assumed the older woman was talking to her daughter until her slender arms wrapped around Kylie, pulling her into a hug. “You must be so lost, dear, with Ernie and Alfie gone. I can’t imagine what the office must be like.”
Tears stung Kylie’s eyes, at the woman’s kindness and understanding, over her loss.
“At least you and Heath have each other,” Mrs. Jones said. “I’m so grateful for that.”
No. Kylie couldn’t come clean—not yet—not when she was able to give at least some of the Colton family some comfort.
Abigail turned toward her daughter now. “Guests are looking for you, Farrah. They want to say goodbye before they leave.” And she led her daughter from the kitchen then, leaving Kylie alone.
But she was only alone for a moment before Carly joined her. “I’m sorry,” Heath’s sister told her.
Kylie turned to her in confusion. “For what?”
“For third wheeling on the way back here,” she said. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”
“Of course,” Kylie said. “You weren’t third wheeling at all. I understand how difficult this day must be for you.”
“Of course, Heath must have told you about Micha...” Her voice cracked as it trailed off.
Kylie nodded. “I’d already been working at Colton Connections for a few years when it happened.” When Heath’s sister’s fiancé had died in combat. “I’m so sorry.”
Carly drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “It’s been two years, but his was the last funeral I attended, so...”
“It’s hard.”
She nodded.
“And I thought I was doing so much better,” Carly said. “I actually just started dating someone.”
Kylie smiled in encouragement. “That’s great. Who?”
“A friend of Sean’s, Harry Cartwright. He’s a really nice man,” Carly said, as if she was trying to convince herself of that. “I don’t know if we’ll ever have the kind of relationship...”
“That you had with Micha?” Kylie asked when the blonde trailed off again.
Carly smiled, “Or that you have with Heath.”
Kylie flinched, hating that she’d lied to all of them.
“I’m sorry,” Carly said again. “I could sense that something was wrong earlier between the two of you. Do you want to talk about it?”
Kylie shook her head. “I really shouldn’t. Not now.”
“What did Heath do?” Carly asked with a sister’s exasperation for her older brother.
Kylie smiled. “I don’t know if he did anything,” she admitted. “But I saw a bunch of calls and voice mails from Gina on his phone.” Heat suffused her face. “Not that I was looking or anything, but he has been ignoring some calls and acting strange about them.”
Carly smiled. “So naturally you were curious. I understand.” Her smile slipped away. “There seemed to be a lot that Micha never shared with me.”
“I’m sure he would have if he’d been allowed,” Kylie assured her. “But with his being in the military, a lot of what he did must have been classified.”
Carly shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
Kylie expelled a shaky sigh. “I understand that feeling.”
“But you can ask Heath,” Carly said. “I don’t have that option anymore.”
A twinge of guilt struck Kylie. “I feel silly talking to you about this.”
Carly chuckled. “I’m glad that you did. I want us to be close.”
That twinge of guilt struck her again, harder this time. She didn’t deserve Heath’s sister’s kindness. “I’m not sure that’ll be possible now,” Kylie murmured.
“You need to talk to Heath. I’m sure he has an explanation about those calls and voice mails,” Carly said.
He probably did, but Kylie was afraid to hear it, to hear that he’d started up with Gina again.
Carly must have seen that fear because she reached out and grasped her hand. “You’re imagining the worst,” she said. “And you don’t need to. I’ve never seen Heath as in love with anyone as he is with you. He certainly never cared that much about Gina.”
In love with her? He cared about her, as a friend, but he was hardly in love with her. But the sudden yearning in her heart confirmed that she wanted his love.
She wanted Heath. Not just for his family, that she’d always wished she was a part of, but only for him. For his intelligence and his integrity and creativity and sexiness...
Carly smiled. “And you’re so in love with him that it’s scaring you,” she said.
With a sudden rush of fear, Kylie realized Heath’s sister was right. She had fallen in love with him.
“You know Heath better than anyone else does,” Carly continued. “You know you can trust him.”
She did know Heath better than anyone else, but that was why she wasn’t certain she could trust him. He’d never been able to commit to a real girlfriend. Why would he suddenly be willing to commit to a fake one?
* * *
Jones’s head pounded and he flinched against the sudden light as Heath opened the blinds in Uncle Alfie’s den.
“This is where you’ve been hiding?” his older brother asked.
“Not hiding,” Jones said defensively. He had nobody to hide from—nobody sought him out like they did his mom and aunt and his siblings and cousins. “I just wanted to rest a minute.”
“You look like hell,” Heath said. “I can’t believe you’re hungover on the day of Pop and Uncle Alfie’s funeral.”
Jones couldn’t believe he was either. Usually the amount of alcohol he’d had wouldn’t have affected him, but he hadn’t been eating or sleeping the past few days. “I can’t believe you’re lecturing me right now,” Jones remarked—since there were dark circles beneath Heath’s eyes too and he looked thinner, as well.
He probably wasn’t hungover, but he clearly hadn’t been sleeping or eating well either.
“I have to,” Heath said. “Pop’s not here to do it anymore.”
Pain clenched Jones’s heart, squeezing it tightly. That was mostly what his father had done with Jones, lecture him, while praising Heath.
“You’re not Pop,” Jones said. “Even though you’ve been trying your damnedest to be him all these years.”
Heath’s brow creased. “What are you talking about?”
Jones lurched out of the chair where he’d been sitting and stalked over to his self-righteous brother. “You’re not beloved like Pop and Uncle Alfie. Your employees hate your guts.”
Heath shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I don’t think you do either.”
“Some lawyer stopped by the brewery last night,” Jones said. “He’s so disgusted with you that he wants to back me to take over the company, to be CEO.”
Heath laughed in his face, enraging Jones. He was just like Pop—thinking Jones was an idiot, inept, incompetent—not as smart or successful as the rest of them. He shoved his brother back against the bookshelves behind him. A couple volumes tumbled from the shelves.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Heath asked.
“Stop laughing at me,” Jones said. “Stop lecturing me! You have no damn right!”
“I’m laughing at Morrison,” Heath said. “I fired him yesterday, and he just refuses to accept it.�
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Heat suffused Jones’s face. Clearly the lawyer thought he was an idiot, too, and had tried to play him for a fool. But yet Jones wasn’t entirely certain his brother hadn’t been laughing at him, too. “So you think that I could take over Colton Connections?”
And Heath laughed again.
Jones reached for him, but Heath’s arms were just a little longer. He pushed at Jones this time, knocking him back. He stumbled and fell over a chair, sprawling across the floor. The wind knocked out of him, he gasped for a breath. Then he lurched up from the floor. Before he could swing at his brother, strong arms pulled him back.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Sean Stafford asked as he held tightly to Jones despite his wriggling in his grasp. “Your family is all upset enough. They don’t need to deal with you two fighting.”
That heat suffused Jones again, burning his face with shame and embarrassment. His shoulders sagged, and he stopped fighting. Sean held him for a moment longer before propelling him back into the chair he’d been in when Heath had walked in to lecture him.
Heath’s face was also flushed and probably not from that brief shove he’d given Jones. “I’m sorry,” he said. To Sean...
Jones flinched.
“And I’m sorry I bothered you,” Heath said. “I should have just left you alone in here, but I didn’t want to do that—today of all days.”
“You wanted to lecture and belittle me instead?” Jones asked.
Heath chuckled. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to. The words just came out.”
“Like you were channeling Pop,” Jones said, then admitted, “I shouldn’t be hung over. It’s just so damn hard.”
“I know,” Heath said. “I also know that you’ve made a hell of a success of your brewery.”
Jones’s lips curved into a slight grin. “You just don’t think I could take over Colton Connections like Morrison suggested?”
“You want to deal with patents all day long?” Heath asked.
Jones chuckled. “God, no. I’ll leave Colton Connections to you.”
Heath sighed. “I guess we’ll see—after the wills are read.”
“So you two are good?” Sean asked. “All made up?”
Heath nodded. “Yeah, Morrison was causing some more trouble, though. The guy just won’t go away even after I fired him.”
Sean’s eyes narrowed. “The lawyer? Parker pulled him in today for questioning.”
“Questioning in what?” Jones asked.
“The attempts on Heath and Kylie’s lives and in the murders.”
Jones gasped at the thought of being so close to his father’s killer. “God, I should have beaten the hell out of him.”
“I wanted to, too, but Kylie stopped me,” Heath admitted.
“You guys have no proof that Morrison is guilty of anything,” Sean said.
“Company espionage,” Heath said. “I know he was selling information to that drug company.”
Jones’s head pounded hard as he tried to follow their conversation. He rubbed his gritty eyes. “God, you’re right—I don’t want anything to do with Colton Connections.”
“Good thing,” Heath said with a heavy sigh. “It puts you in danger.”
Fear gripped Jones as he finally processed everything that had been happening since the murders. Someone was trying to kill his brother, too. The big brother he’d always loved and admired and wished he was closer to.
Now he might not have the chance if this killer was successful. “You mean that Morrison guy might be trying to take you out next and not just out of your chair but out of the world?”
Heath shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Parker’s looking at him as a serious suspect,” Sean said. “When did you talk to him?”
“I don’t know exact time.” Jones searched his memory. “I think he showed up at the bar around nine or so.”
“Would he have had time to get from the West Loop to that hotel downtown when Kylie and I were nearly run down?” Heath asked.
A surge of fear overwhelmed Jones. He had nearly lost his brother the night before his dad and uncle’s funeral. He gasped.
“Parker will check,” Sean assured him as he pulled out his cell. “But you gotta be extra careful. You and Kylie. You don’t know who the hell is coming after you.”
Heath nodded.
Sean tapped his phone. “I’m going to call Joe, fill him in.” He stepped through the French doors to the little courtyard between the den and the driveway.
Jones jumped up from his chair and reached for Heath who stepped back as if suspecting his brother might be going after him again. But Jones hugged him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as emotion overwhelmed him.
Heath clutched him close and murmured, “Me, too.” When Jones pulled back, his brother’s eyes were damp. “I’m so sorry,” Heath said. “And I hope you know that Pop was very proud of you. He told everybody about Lone Wolf.”
Tears flooded Jones’s eyes now. “I—I didn’t know that. He didn’t tell me.”
“He would have,” Heath assured him. “If he hadn’t been denied the chance.”
Jones wasn’t so sure but he nodded at the sentiment his brother had expressed.
“And though it might not mean much from me, I am proud of you, too,” Heath said.
“Damn you,” Jones said as the tears flooded his eyes again.
Despite the tears in his eyes, Heath chuckled. “It’s the day to express feelings. When it’s over, we’ll go back to ignoring them and just grunting at each other.”
“Promise?” Jones asked.
Heath nodded and started to pull out of their brotherly embrace. But Jones gripped his shoulders.
“Promise me,” he began.
“I promise to stop talking—”
“No, promise me you’ll be careful,” Jones said. “Promise me that I won’t lose my big brother, too.”
Heath nodded, but they both knew that wasn’t a promise he could make. He had no way of knowing if there would be more attempts on his life.
But Jones suspected there would be, that the killer would keep trying until Heath was dead.
Chapter 23
Heath and Kylie had driven back to the penthouse in silence, but it hadn’t been silent inside Heath’s head where his words to his brother echoed. Today was the day to express feelings. But his fight with Jones had drained him.
Hell, the whole day had drained him. So he remained silent, and so did Kylie, while he parked the SUV and they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. But when Kylie started toward the hallway leading to the guest room, he reached out and caught her hand in his.
“Please...” he said.
She turned toward him. “What? What do you want, Heath?” She was tense. Maybe she expected him to drag her to his bedroom for sex.
“I just want you to talk to me,” he said, imploring her. “I want you to tell me what’s going on with you...with us.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’ve been different since last night,” he said. “Something’s wrong. You’re upset about it, and I don’t know what I’ve done.”
She expelled a shaky sigh. “Okay...”
So he had done something, something that had upset her—just as he’d upset his brother. Regret gripped him, but maybe he could make it right with her like he had with Jones, if she would give him the chance. “You’ll talk to me?”
She nodded. “Yes. Let me make some tea and we’ll talk.”
He expelled a shaky sigh of his own as he followed her to the kitchen. “I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried.”
“Why?” she asked.
“My talk with Jones today didn’t go well.” At first.
“I heard,” she said.
Everybody apparently had because th
e hallway outside the den had been crowded when he and Jones had walked out of it. Without getting into details, they’d assured everybody that they were fine.
“What were you fighting about?” she asked as she filled the kettle before putting it on his stove. Then she reached for her canister of teabags on the counter.
Just as she’d spread her things about the guest room, Kylie had spread them about the kitchen. But he liked seeing her things here almost as much as he liked seeing her here—in his home. With her here, it was finally beginning to feel like a home and not just the place where he crashed after working all day.
She waved a teabag in front of his face. “Want some?”
He shook his head.
“Can’t you tell me about the fight?” she asked. “Is it between you and Jones?”
He snorted. “Even if it was, I would tell you. I tell you everything.” Which Gina had hated.
Kylie’s eyes narrowed in a faint glare, though, as if she didn’t believe him. “Really?” She sounded doubtful, as well.
“Yes,” he said and hastened to do just that. “Morrison stopped by the brewery last night and wound Jones up with a lot of crap about disappointing our dad.”
“What a jerk,” she said. “What was he trying to do?”
“Get Jones to take over the company, so I couldn’t fire him.”
“Jerk,” she repeated.
“Yeah, but maybe a jerk with an alibi.” Which was a pity. He really wanted Morrison to be guilty of something—something more than company espionage.
“He might have been with Jones when someone tried running us down?” she asked.
He nodded. “But I don’t want to talk about my fight with Jones,” he said. “I want to talk about my fight with you.”
She shook her head. “We’re not fighting.”
“But we’re not talking either,” he said. “What happened last night? One minute we were so good and the next...”
The kettle whistled then, and Kylie turned either eagerly or gratefully toward the stove. When she turned away, his cell phone began to vibrate.
