by Lucy Leroux
“Wait here. I’m going for the life jackets. We’re going to need them.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, diving back into the water with a rapid freestyle. He reached the boat in seconds, climbing on the stern.
“Patrick, don’t you dare get back on that burning boat!” Tahlia’s voice was shrill with panic.
He didn’t waste time answering. Instead, he threw up the cushion to reveal the storage spaces built into the seats in the back. The lifesavers were in the third one he checked. He grabbed two and jumped back into the water in one clean dive. He made it back to the others in less than a minute.
“Put this on,” he ordered, anxiety making his voice curt.
Tahlia grabbed his arm with a death grip. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she sobbed.
“I had to. Now please, put this on!”
Tahlia hurried to obey, insisting on putting a jacket on Alfonse first. They could only manage to get the uninjured arm threaded through one armhole. The bodyguard managed to hug the jacket to his chest, helping him float. Once Tahlia put her jacket on, their battered trio began to paddle to the shore.
They beat at the water, limping along at a slow crawl for what felt like hours. Slowly, the land came closer and closer as the sun began to dip in the spy.
Damn, I don’t want her out here in the dark. His thigh and calf muscles were burning, but he didn’t give up. He needed to get Tahlia to safety.
The cold water began to sap his strength, but he ignored it. Then Tahlia’s teeth began to chatter, and he swore aloud.
“Hang on, baby!” He started kicking harder, fighting to speed them up.
The arduous journey was cut short by a rescue a few minutes later. Nolan had spotted the smoke from the harbor and drafted a local with a small motorboat to come pick them up. Together, Nolan and the stranger managed to fish them out of the water. They were in the local hospital less than twenty minutes later.
Trick closely supervised the doctors as they treated Tahlia for possible shock, wrapping her in those foil blankets to keep her warm. He reluctantly left her under Nolan’s care while he checked on the injured bodyguard. Alfonse got lucky, though. He was going to recover.
Interviews with the local police followed. The coast guard was able to recover the boat before it sank. They were taking it in to examine it for evidence of explosives.
Hours later, Nolan was finally able to drive them back to the hotel. Trick had an arm tightly wrapped around Tahlia. She was quiet, curled against his chest.
“We have to change rooms,” Nolan said as he pulled up to the front entrance of the Hotel de Paris. “In fact, we should change hotels entirely.”
He shook his head. “No. We’re checking out. I’m having the Caislean jet meet us at the airport. I’m taking Tahlia back to Boston.”
“What?” Tahlia’s ice-blue eyes blinked at him.
“I know you were worried about bringing trouble home, but if this wasn’t an accident, then we’re better off back there.”
“I don’t th—”
He stopped her with a few fingers to her lips. “It won’t be forever. I kept telling you to join a think tank as a job. After this, I realized we already have one. Between my family and friends and yours, we have the collective brain power of a small country. We’re going to figure out what the hell to do next together. And while we’re at it, we’re going to get married because fuck your family. Fuck them.”
“It could have been an accident,” she protested half-heartedly.
He scowled at her, probably for the first time.
She held up a hand. “All right it wasn’t. But what about Gina and Jenny? How do we keep everyone safe?”
Trick bent to kiss her forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”
They had to.
Tahlia watched the falling snow from the suite’s living room window. The snowstorm had been going on for days, blanketing the city with a pristine white powder. At least that was how it appeared from a distance. Except for the roof garden, she hadn’t set a foot out of doors since they returned a few weeks ago.
The traffic on the streets below was crawling at a snail’s pace to avoid spinning out on the slushy streets.
Large swaths of Boston were on lockdown because of the weather. Kind of like me.
Staying indoors was part of the concierge doctor’s advice. Their unintended dip in the Mediterranean in winter had given her a terrible cold, one so bad Patrick was convinced it was pneumonia. The illness had knocked her out for weeks. She was still a bit shaky and tired easily.
A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds, bathing her in warmth and light. It caught the massive stone on her right hand, making it sparkle and shine. Fingering the engagement ring, Tahlia closed her eyes, soaking up the bright rays before the clouds moved again.
She turned at the sound of the electronic door lock whirling open. A wave of dizziness came over her and she swayed, her vision momentarily darkening.
“Hey.” Tahlia glanced up to see Ethan rushing toward her. He cleared the couch in a jump and was at her side in a flash. He grabbed her arm, ushering her to the couch with a murmur.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thanks. It’s just taking forever to shake this cold.”
Ethan frowned but nodded anyway. He gestured to the kitchen area. “Can I fix you some tea? Or soup?”
She smiled weakly. “I ate with Maggie and Peyton a little earlier. Was there something you needed?”
At this point, Tahlia felt safe in calling the FBI agent a friend, but he wouldn’t have come into the suite she shared with Patrick alone unless it was important. Ethan wasn’t big on hanging out and chatting when he could be chasing down Peyton.
Ethan put his hands in his jean pockets. He pursed his lips. “I was looking for Trick…”
She tilted her head back in understanding. “But it’s about me, or rather about my family, isn’t it?”
“Uh…yeah.” He shuffled on his feet. “We were wondering why things were so quiet since you and Trick got back from France, so I pumped a few contacts and they dug up a possible reason.”
She leaned forward, her chest tight. “What is it?”
“Your uncle Lucas is being treated for cancer. He’s been flying back and forth to Pennsylvania from the Florida estate. There’s a pretty good cancer center at the university there.”
Tahlia’s lips parted. “I see.”
What did this mean? Her family prided itself on their good fortune. No member had ever been diagnosed with cancer before.
“There’s more.”
She screwed her nose up, unsure if she wanted to know.
“Apparently, the whole family is up in arms about a series of financial reversals. It’s nothing too major. They’re not broke—unfortunately. Not yet. But all these little things cropping up should keep them busy for a while. My friend at the FCC thinks there’s something fishy going on with them judging from their investment patterns. He’s optimistic he can get something on them. In the meantime, my buddy Mason from Interpol is checking some of their overseas operations. Your family has a long reach, but we’re going to find something on them. I don’t want you to worry. Your family’s bad luck is our good fortune.”
Something about that last phrase made her skin crawl. “Yeah,” she said, twisting her engagement ring absently.
“Don’t tell Trick I said that by the way. He swears like a sailor anytime anyone uses that word.”
“What word?”
“Luck. Or more specifically, he loses his shit when someone calls you lucky. But this is good news,” he insisted.
That didn’t make her feel any better, but she tried to appear more confident. “I know. Thank you.”
Ethan grinned, his tone a little too deliberately upbeat. “That rock weighing you down? You should have Trick get you a normal-sized one that you don’t have to drag behind you.”
She lifted her left hand into a fist. “It would make a good weapo
n, don’t you think?”
“Yeah… So you said you had lunch with Peyton. She’s in today?”
Tahlia nodded, her lip twitching. She’d had lunch with Peyton and Maggie, but Ethan had a one-track mind.
“Peyton should be at her desk downstairs. I actually forgot to give her something at lunch.” She stood and went for one of the many boxes littering the dining room table.
She fished the wedding invitation with her friend’s name on it out and handed it to Ethan. “If you’re headed down there, can you do me a favor and give this to her? I’m not done addressing them all so the W’s aren’t done yet, but I can do yours really quick if you can wait.”
Ethan tried not to beam at her. He snatched the invitation from her hand and was at the door before she could blink.
“Don’t worry about it,” he called behind her. “It’s not like I don’t know where it’s going to be!”
He waved goodbye, rushing out without further delay.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Ethan was shameless. She only prayed her friend would wake up and see what a great guy he was.
Tahlia remembered Peyton’s face when she saw Liam with his girlfriend on the security feeds. Maybe that was too much to ask. Ethan had an uphill battle ahead of him. Things could get ugly.
However, there was nothing she could say or do that would help anyone involved. Resolving to not interfere, she went back to her wedding invitations before settling down in front of the computer for a little online poker.
A few hours later, her screen was filled with giant letters.
WINNER.
Tahlia gasped, watching the numbers in her pot jump an entire order of magnitude.
“Patrick!”
Damn it. He wasn’t here. Tahlia rushed out the door to find him in his office, but he was out.
Oh, right. He was meeting with some vendors in the kitchens this afternoon. Tahlia hurried out, catching sight of Liam arguing with Peyton by the elevators.
She was too far to hear what they were saying, but it was obvious Liam was reading Peyton the riot act.
Concerned, Tahlia shuffled her feet, debating going forward to casually interrupt. Liam was a very private person. He’d probably stop picking on Peyton as soon as he saw she was there, witnessing it all.
Tahlia needn’t have worried. Her friend was having none of it. The elevator doors opened behind them and Peyton stalked inside, flipping off Liam as she went.
Grumbling, he spun on his heel, checking himself mid-step when he saw her standing there.
“Hi,” she said, wishing Peyton had waited for her.
“Hey.” He waved the pile of papers he was holding. A dyed-in-the-wool workaholic, she’d never seen him without a document of some kind or another in his hands.
Liam passed a hand over his face before his head cocked to one side. His eyes narrowed.
“Can you talk some sense into her?” He pointed back at the elevator.
“To Peyton?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Yes. She’s insisted on staying at her dad’s old place, but I want her to sleep at the hotel until this business with your family blows over.”
“Uh…”
Their fight was her fault. She swallowed hard, gearing up for the long apology he was probably waiting for. “I am so sorry about that. I know you must wish me a thousand miles away. I’m putting everyone in danger and—”
He held up a hand cutting her off. “You have to stop with that. You’re part of the family now… or will be soon enough. I just don’t like Peyton staying on in that rattrap she calls home when there’s plenty of room here. Especially now you’ve moved into Trick’s rooms. The suite next door, the one you were in at first, is empty. She should sleep there. Do you think you can talk to her?”
“I can try,” she hedged.
She didn’t want anything to happen to Peyton because of her, but asking the other woman to come here to move down the hall from Liam sounded like a terrible idea.
He hesitated, the expression of doubt on his face unfamiliar. “Make sure she thinks it was your idea.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not exactly her favorite person these days because of her deadbeat dad.”
Tahlia nodded, a little surprised at the undercurrents she was detecting. Liam wasn’t a demonstrative man, but she was too adept at hiding her own emotions not to know when someone else was doing it, too. Underneath, Liam was roiling.
Wow. She would have never guessed.
“I thought Peyton’s father passed away.”
“He died last year and good riddance. Unfortunately, his legacy of bullshit lives on,” Liam growled.
Tahlia stared, unsure what to say. His face softened, and he thumped her on the back in what she guessed was supposed to be a reassuring manner.
“Donny is no loss, trust me. If he were still around, Trick wouldn’t have let you near that asshole with a ten-foot pole.”
“All right,” she said, eyeing the elevator. The space between her shoulder blades stung a little. Liam was such a bear of a man, he must not know his own strength.
“Peyton likes the cheese danish from the cafe downstairs.”
“What?” This conversation was getting away from her again.
Liam gestured with his papers. “You can butter her up with one before you bring up moving in here.”
“Oh. Of course…” The elevators doors opened. Freedom!
She backed away. “I’m going to go do that now.”
He waved her on. “Don’t take no for an answer,” he ordered.
The words were pretty much what she’d come to expect from Liam, but the expression in his eyes was something else.
Anger would have been expected. What she saw was…desperation.
Chapter 28
Tahlia was almost hopping up and down with excitement, dancing around the coffee table in their suite before hesitating. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, turning to her gorgeous fiancé.
“Yes.” Patrick was emphatic. “You don’t need this money for our campaign against your family. If Mason is right, and he usually is, then Cain and Dante are guilty of a litany of white-collar crimes. It’s a miracle they’ve managed to stay undetected until now.”
Mention of her family dampened her enthusiasm. “It won’t make that much of a difference if they don’t get Uncle Lucas on something, too.”
Patrick held up a hand. “We’ll get him, too. If it’s not Interpol, then the FCC will bring the hammer down. Trust me. But your gambling winnings won’t make a difference.”
She pressed the pamphlet Peyton helped her create to her chest. “Then I should put some of them toward our wedding expenses…”
“Liam won’t take a dime from you, and you know it. And don’t bother suggesting saving it for our children’s college fund. That’s done, too,” he added with a wink.
She stood up straighter, holding the pamphlet with both hands. “All right then. I’m ready to do this.”
‘This’ was a special education program run out of select women’s shelters.
Despite her recent good fortune, Tahlia’s experiences living at the fringes of society stayed with her. Patrick and his family were her inspiration. She admired everything the Tylers did to help women in trouble. She wanted to do her part, too.
To that end, she approached Maggie and Peyton for some help fleshing out an idea she’d first had while staying in a shelter in New York.
Tahlia was going to use her winnings to fund a vocational boot camp out of local shelters and hotels. In addition to providing beds for their guests and whatever children they had, the program was a crash course in math and computers. Participants would be trained in different vocational software. If they completed the course, they would receive a special certificate they could present to future employers. After the pilot program, she and Maia were going to work on getting the program official state certification.
If I can let go of my cash.
“I’m sorry I’m still hesitating.
It’s just that I get nervous. I’ve been seeing my winnings as sort of a shield against my family—even though I know it’s nonsense. Money isn’t going to stop them.”
Trick pulled her close to his side. “We are going to put an end to all of this, but not with your poker winnings. There will be plenty more of that by the way, believe me. You’re too good not to be a high roller.”
He took the pamphlet from her hands. “Let’s move on this now. You and Peyton are having so much fun designing the curriculum.”
Tahlia let her head fall against his chest. “I feel guilty about that. I should be helping more with the wedding preparations.”
He shook his head. “Only if you want. Maggie and I have that covered.”
She pursed her lips. “Why don’t you want me to help? Are you afraid I’ll turn into a bridezilla or something?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d declined her help.
“No, that’s not it. I’m afraid you’ll see all the wedding fripperies and get cold feet.”
He showed his teeth in something that only loosely resembled a smile.
Tahlia nudged him with her hip, making him lose his balance. He landed on the couch. She climbed on his lap before he was able to recover. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He gave her a mock exasperated look as if to say finally before bending his head to kiss her. Unfortunately, he cut their make-out session short a few minutes later with a groan.
“I hate to go, but I have a conference call.” Patrick gently set her aside next to him. He stood, straightening his jacket and tie.
“Is it a video conference call?”
He nodded. “It’s better if we can see the faces we’re all making at each other,” he joked. “Reading people’s reactions helps with negotiations, but in this case, the Sydney group opted for it.”
She hopped up, tweaking his tie. “Those Aussie surfer babes just want to check you out. I can’t say I blame them. But you’re officially off the market, mister.”
A corner of his mouth turned up. “This conference is all men.”
