by Leroux, Lucy
Julie had called someone in the intervening period. She looked up guiltily as he entered the room, pulling the phone closer to her face. Pretending not to notice, he bustled around, putting the sheets on the chair before pulling out some of his clothes for later. He’d wash up in the guest room when he got the chance.
Julie’s hushed tones were hard to pick up, but it was obvious she had called her boss. A minute later, she hung up and called a woman, touching base with her babysitter. Not her boyfriend or a family member… Didn’t she have anyone to help her? Was there no one she could count on?
Leave it alone, Ethan. This wasn’t his problem. All he was obligated to do was get them up and running again.
Julie hung up the phone, looking despondent.
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. You don’t need to get more involved… Ethan cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?
“Oh, I suppose.” She grimaced. “You were right. I’m not missing work because there is no work. Tully’s is closed until further notice. Old Tully is in the hospital with whatever I had. The rest of the staff is in and out. No one is going out in this weather. The bartender, Mike, told me to check back in a few days.”
“Sorry,” he replied. It had been a long time since he’d depended on hourly wages. His paycheck from Uncle Sam wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was steady and came with decent benefits.
“Um, thank you for everything you’ve done.” She hesitated, clearing her throat, touching it as if it hurt.
“But?” He knew there was one.
“I should go back downstairs now. You don’t need us in your way. Luna is too much to handle on your own. She gets in everything.” Blushing, she looked down at her soiled clothes. “Besides, I need a shower.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you can stand long enough for that?”
Ethan doubted it.
“Of course.” The faux bravado lasted about as long as it took her to push the tray away and stand. She swayed on her feet.
“Here,” he said, helping her to the chair instead. “Since you’re up, I can change the sheets fast, but you should rest after that. And don’t worry about Luna. We’re becoming friends,” he said, suddenly determined to prove her wrong.
Yes, the toddler had been a handful, but compared to some of his friend’s children, she was a relatively easy kid. Granted, last night had been crazy, but that was understandable under the circumstance. With a little prep work, they’d get through this blizzard fine. He simply had to lay down some ground rules.
Julie worried her lip. He closed his eyes briefly and turned away, surprised at the rush of heat. The woman was next to an invalid for Pete’s sake. The fact she could do this to him was a testament to her pulling power. Crap. He was going to have to tread carefully for the next couple of days.
Ethan finished changing the sheets, gesturing for the woman to stand. He threw the clean top sheet over her before guiding her to the bed, carefully avoiding contact with her skin.
“So I won’t have to wash my hands before touching Luna,” he explained, well aware he was going to wash them regardless. Donovan had been clear on that point. He would wash every time he moved between them.
Julie nodded. With a soft goodbye, he left the room, telling himself it was because the toddler had been on her own long enough.
He closed the door, shaking his head at his behavior. The reaction not to touch Julie had been instinctive, but he didn’t dwell on it. If there was anything he’d learned on the job, it was that little white lies made the world go round.
Chapter Seven
Juliet dragged herself to the window, kneeling on the leather chair as she tried to measure the height of the snowbanks on the street below. With a sinking feeling, she realized the snow was almost level with the post office mailbox across the street. The distance from the door of the building to the street looked so short, but, with snow that deep, it would have taken a snowmobile to cross it. Now that she had one…anymore.
How long would the street be impassible? According to Ethan, more snow was forecast for this evening. It might last the whole night, and the snowplows were nowhere in sight.
She pulled the clammy sheet tighter around her shoulders. Driving would be impossible, too, she thought, then snorted lightly. Juliet didn’t even have a car. She hadn’t driven anywhere since she left Mexico.
Grimacing, she tried to eat. How badly she had underestimated and misjudged everything shook her. Life in the United States was so much harder than anticipated. The prices of needed items had been a huge shock. Actually, scratch that. The prices were nothing compared to what she used to spend on clothes and shoes as a teen. In the old days, she would drop more on a weekend shopping trip than she’d earned in the last six months here.
By comparison, a box of diapers was cheap—but then household necessities had always been bought by the housekeepers her family employed. Juliet had never learned the economy of scale.
Everything was different now. Leaving had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Her fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, and she’d flown. There had been no time to think, let alone plan. She’d grabbed the necessities she and Luna needed, pretending they were going shopping.
Juliet had driven to the local mall, but only to use her bank cards to withdraw all the cash she could. Then she dumped the lot in the trash. They would be too easy to trace. She’d held onto her ID a little longer, hoping to use the picture to create another identification. The best she’d been able to do was remove a few extra letters from her first name. But, in any case, the Mexican identification was useless the moment she crossed the border. Without a forged visa to use with them, it did her no good in the United States.
Without proper documentation, she’d been forced to do whatever work she could find. It hadn’t been easy with Luna, but Juliet was smart and willing to work harder than the next guy. Being paid under the table meant earning slave wages. It had been terrifying getting that first wad of crumpled bills and realizing how little it was. If she hadn’t pawned her jewelry, she wouldn’t have been able to pay for that first illegal sublet in Texas.
The door opening shook her out of her reverie. Blinking, she slid down the seat to see her landlord.
His broad shoulders almost filled the doorway. He was carrying a tray with a sandwich and a bowl of soup. When he saw she was awake, he grinned broadly, making her freeze. He was shockingly beautiful when he smiled.
“Hey,” he said. “I brought you lunch, but Luna finally went down for a nap. I thought you might like to take a shower while I can help.”
Eyes widening, she could feel her face heat. “Um…”
His lips parted. “I mean…while I can be on hand in case you need help. I’m not sure you can stand the whole time. You’re still very weak.”
“I’m sure I can. I don’t need help,” she replied. With ill-judged bravado, she stood and took a few steps.
The room spun. Ethan’s arm shot out to support her. He helped her to the side of the bed, easily balancing the heavy-looking wood tray in his other hand.
“Maybe I’ll sit in the shower,” she amended, grateful he did not appear to be one of those men who said, ‘I told you so’.
“Why don’t I draw you a bath instead?” he offered. “I have a brand-spanking new whirlpool tub I haven’t used yet.”
He hadn’t? How long had he been living here? “Don’t you want to be the one to break it in?”
His expression blanked. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “No worries. You can do that for me. I’ll go get the water started.”
He crossed the room, disappearing into the bathroom. The water began to run and he came back, taking her arm to guide her into the marble-tiled room. The European-style bathroom had a separate toilet and sink behind another door off to one side. She hadn’t gone much beyond it because she couldn’t figure out the space-age lighting panel.
Ethan pressed a few buttons, and overhead lights flooded the room. The polis
hed tiles were done in swirling light brown tones flecked with gold. The accents were a rich caramel. Compared to her recent accommodations, it was glamorous, but, unlike her parent’s home, it managed to be warm as well as luxurious.
Ethan fussed with the tub controls, turning the water tap off. “You don’t want to boil, particularly since you keep running a temperature.”
Tossing a few towels on a bench next to the tub, he turned to face her. “Do you need help undressing?”
His delivery was matter of fact. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed, but Juliet flushed wildly.
“I can manage if I sit down,” she said weakly.
Ethan maneuvered her to a small bench next to the tub before hesitating. “I was going to talk to you about the studio you’ve been using…”
Panic flitted across her expression, and he rushed to hold up his hands. “I don’t mean you have to move out. Not yet. But without speaking to the other owners, I think we might be able to work something out for a longer stay—that is, if I can get in there and do some of the upgrades we have planned. If I can finish them quickly, you can sublet for a few more months, at least until we turn the rentals over to the management company.”
Oh. Of course he and his partners didn’t want to be bothered with finding tenants or doing day-to-day repairs. After the renovation was done, a management company would takeover. Mason had mentioned this. She’d forgotten.
“That’s so kind of you…” Juliet stared at the floor. “I’m afraid I don’t have any other place to go just yet.”
He gave her a slightly exasperated smile. “I don’t expect you to apartment hunt in a blizzard. You can stay here during the work. My guest room is almost ready. I have some furniture—Luna is small and doesn’t need much, but I was going to go out and pick up a real bed for the guest room as soon as the streets are drivable.”
She fiddled with the grubby T-shirt, her chin tight. “I can’t impose any more than I already have.”
“You’ve been no trouble. Well, except for scaring the crap out of me when you were out of your mind with fever,” he added, softening the words with a smile. “Other than that, you’ve been no bother. I’ve barely heard a peep from you.”
“I took your bed.” She winced, twisting the hem of the shirt.
“The pull-out couch isn’t that bad. Believe me, I’ve slept in worse places. In my line of work, it’s a hazard…”
She frowned, wondering what he did for a living. Investing in this place would have cost him a small fortune. Although, for some reason, he didn’t strike her as a man who would be content working in an office.
“I’m making some serious headway on my paperwork thanks to the blizzard,” he elaborated, immediately contradicting her.
So he does have a white-collar job.
Now she was picturing him in a suit, maybe at a law firm. Guilt and frustration swamped, fighting for supremacy.
Ethan bent at the waist to test the water temperature in the tub, swirling it around with a long-fingered hand. He straightened. “Even if the office is open, I can take Friday off. Barring any hidden problems, the studio is small enough for me to handle the renovations on my own. It should take a few days at the most. You and Luna can hole up here until it’s habitable again.”
Her lips parted. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally said, “Thank you. I accept, but I still want to pay rent.”
Juliet tried to sound grateful, but the words came out of her mouth with a jagged edge, as if they had been ripped from her core. She hated depending on others, and it showed.
Ethan’s mouth pulled down. “I think you should be saving for a deposit on a new place.”
He braced himself, as if waiting for the inevitable plea to stay in the studio at the old rent after renovations, but she kept her lips firmly shut. Juliet wasn’t in a position to let pride govern her behavior. She owed Luna that much…but she had never begged for anything in her life. Pride was all she had left.
Her host stared for a moment before nodding. “You’re in luck. I finished redoing the bathroom a few days ago—it has a steam shower in addition to the whirlpool bath.”
He pressed a button next to the water tap, and the water in tub began to bubble and swirl.
“It works!” Ethan grinned unexpectedly. The expression warmed his face, transfiguring it from merely attractive to dazzling. Confused at her reaction, she gaped, blinking stupidly.
“Wasn’t it supposed to?” she asked when he continued to watch her expectantly. Her fuzzy mind wasn’t connecting the dots fast enough. That and being this close to someone so physically attractive was tying her tongue in knots.
“Yes, but I did the work myself, so there was still room for doubt,” he answered, self-deprecation making him impossibly more handsome.
He gestured to the door. “There’s even some heat lamps for after. I’ll hit the switch on my way out.”
“Thank you,” she said, wondering how many times she would tell him that before this was over.
Not trusting herself to stop staring, she kept her eyes downcast, waiting until the door closed behind him before starting to undress.
Chapter Eight
Ethan was almost sorry Luna had fallen asleep. Taking care of her would have kept his mind off what was going on in the bathroom. X-rated images flashed through his mind—caramel-colored limbs with water streaming over them…
He coughed, shifting around his sudden arousal. Damn. Right when I need a cold shower, the bathroom is busy.
Determined to get his mind out of the gutter, he flipped through the notes from his newest case file. It was ironic he should have to be dealing with the Komarov clan again.
Despite working in the white-collar division, Ethan had been aware of the Russian crime family since he moved to Boston. He’d made a study of the local syndicates, expecting one of his cases would involve them sooner or later. Only his first brush with the family had come from a more personal avenue…
His partner Jason’s wife was a wealthy hotel heiress. It was through her that Ethan had ended up rubbing shoulders with a slew of billionaires. Most were bachelors, or at least they had been when he’d met them. One, Calen MacLachlan, had met Maia, a girl on the run from the Komarov crew. He’d ended up marrying her, but Timur Komarov had still gone after her, determined to silence her for the crime she’d witnessed him committing. In the end, Maia had been okay. Her personal safety had been guaranteed by Anton Komarov himself, or so Calen had been assured by an intermediary.
Ethan thumbed the card with the scrawled note, promising Maia would never be bothered again. He was almost sure it had been written by Viktor, the six-and-a half-foot bodyguard who had been charged with keeping Timur in line.
Now the Komarov’s heir was rusticating in eastern Europe, Viktor’s profile had been substantially raised. Rumor had it he had been handed a hell of a lot of responsibility in the last year, which surprised most of Ethan’s coworkers. They had only ever seen him in pictures—a giant bull of a man with massive hands who could choke the life out of the Hulk. Most people dismissed someone that big as stupid. But Ethan had met the man in the flesh in the aftermath of the Timur debacle, and he’d soon realized that Viktor’s size and silence was an effective mask for a razor-sharp mind.
That one could take over the Komarovs if he put his mind to it… But if Ethan was right, the deceptively threatening man also had an equally well-honed conscience. He lifted the note his office had anonymously received last week, addressed to him and Jason.
9, the Lorano, Friday the 20th, midnight.
After a little legwork, Jason had discovered the Lorano was a boat out of Croatia. It was due at the docks week after next. It wasn’t a known smuggling vessel, but that meant nothing. What or why someone wanted them to take a look was a mystery.
It could be nine alligators or nine weapons of mass destruction. He snorted. Jason had said it was more likely nine boxes of Cubans or something innocuous. His partner couldn’t credit that t
hey might get actionable intel from an anonymous tip.
Ethan wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed on the peculiar slant on the L of the second note. The writing didn’t look the same, but the office handwriting expert had agreed with his assessment. A concerted effort had been made to disguise the writing, but the emphasis on both notes was similar. Not enough for a definitive answer, however.
Jason had laughed out loud when Ethan had suggested the new note came from Viktor, but his partner trusted Ethan’s hunches enough to agree to investigate the possibility regardless.
Ethan dived back into his files, determined to find a connection. They needed a viable lead to convince the upper brass to let them proceed. Thirty minutes later, he raised his head, belatedly wondering how Julie was faring. He’d expected her to call out to him if she needed help after her bath, but there had been nothing.
He went to the bathroom door to listen. No splashing sounds. No sound at all. Crap. He knocked. “You didn’t fall asleep in there, did you?”
There was no answer. He knocked louder, but there was still no response.
Ah, hell.
Ethan cracked open the door, then raised his voice. “Are you all right in there?”
He strained his ear. She hadn’t even shifted the water in response. It’s your apartment, and she might have fallen asleep in the tub. Ethan had every right to enter and check on her.
It was harder than he would have imagined to push the door open. Too many mandatory sensitivity-training seminars…
The pearlescent tiles were a little shinier than usual, and the mirror was fogged. Julie lay in the tub, her head resting on the far wall.
“Hey,” he said loudly, concerned when she didn’t move.
Sighing, Julie shifted, sliding a few inches lower in the water. Cursing under his breath, he stepped forward. He didn’t own any fancy bubble bath or those things that made the water change color. There was nothing to prevent him from seeing Julie in all her glory, the only thing between her naked body and him was a few inches of soapy water.
