by C. C. Gibbs
“I didn’t exactly save you,” Rafe murmured. “Rat bastard shot you anyway.”
“Still, I owe my life to you.” Tears welled in Ganz’s eyes.
“Hey, I owe my company to you,” Rafe replied. “I wouldn’t have a single drug formula left, present or future, without you stopping those assholes’ attacks. Twelve times, don’t forget. I should probably give you a partnership,” Rafe said, smiling. “Seriously, you can have a piece of the action if you want. I mean it.”
Ganz smiled back. “If Zou hadn’t made me rich as hell I might take you up on your offer. But you know he gave me that bundle of money when I left the unit.”
Rafe was pleased to see Ganz smile. “I remember. So he wasn’t all bad after all,” Rafe quipped. “Although with the fortune he’s left around the world, feel free to add to your exchequer. I was thinking his wife should have some, although that might not be very easy to accomplish. Certainly his son, who’s out of the country at Oxford, could be a recipient. And maybe the nice young lady who had to pretend to be Zou’s mistress all those years. That should be worth some combat pay. What do you think?” Rafe wanted to distract Ganz. His emotions were clearly shaky as hell, his body struggling to regain its equilibrium. He needed a task to occupy his mind. “I’d like you to think about disposing of those funds. Some charities of your choice as well. There’s a fuck load of frozen assets in all of Zou’s secret accounts. More than enough to benefit a whole lot of people.”
Ganz laughed. “Smooth, Contini. You keeping me busy?”
“Preferably twenty-four/seven, dude. That’s what it’s gonna take to break the cycle. Let Madeline help. You said she’s as good a hacker as you. Fuck, with Zou’s money, you two could make some major changes in the world. So think about it, that’s all I’m saying.” He deliberately made no mention of Jin. Ganz didn’t need any further anxiety when he was going through withdrawal. And Carlos would take care of the island. Ganz was safe.
Ganz leaned back against this pillows. “I’ll give it a go. I like the idea of payback. Madeline can help too. It’ll be super nice to have her here. Henny says you’ve been missing your babe too, chaffing at the bit.”
“Henny’s right about missing my babe. But I’m in no rush. Nicole’s busy helping nurse her sister back to health.”
“You really in love?” Ganz looked at Rafe, puzzled.
“Pretty much. No one’s given me a definitive rundown on love so I’m not sure about the details, but so far it feels really fine. Like I got it right. I bought a house in San Francisco,” Rafe added. “Didn’t even question the impulse.”
“I don’t suppose I’m allowed to suggest there’s a sexual subtext to that impulse.”
Rafe gave him a steady look. “No, you are not.”
Ganz raised both his hands and smiled faintly. “Then I am witness to the end of an era.”
Rafe knew what he meant, but his voice when he spoke was without humor. “It lasted long enough…” His voice trailed off, ruinous memory pulsing through his senses, cruel and pitiless. “Too long.” He stopped to breathe, back in the past.
Rafe’s naked regret was extraordinary. Clearly he was a man in love. “You have my permission to go,” Ganz said.
Rafe’s head came up sharply, his gaze ablaze. “I don’t need your permission. Oh fuck.” He blew out a breath. “Sorry.” Another half second to gather himself, then a last flash of anger in his eyes. “My fucking old man has a lot to answer for. But it’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have—”
“Forget it.” Ganz smiled. “We’ve known each other a long time. I’m on a first name basis with your fucked-up psyche. And you with mine. But seriously, why don’t you go to San Francisco? See your new house, your new fiancée. Madeline will be here soon and then I won’t have time to talk to you anyway.”
“You sure? I have no problem staying as long as you like.”
“I’m sure. Go. You don’t have to take care of everyone all the time. It’s been a lot of years. Go take care of Nicole.” Ganz grinned. “Or try. You have to admit—part of her charm is the fact that she says no to you more than she says yes. You love it. It’s like having a sparring partner twenty-four/seven. A beautiful one you can f—” Rafe’s sharp look stopped him.
“I’ll give your regards to Nicole,” Rafe said pleasantly. “And if you fall off the wagon, I’m coming back and personally beating the shit out of you. Consider me your worst nightmare, okay?” He gave Ganz a hard, steady look. “Now be good.”
Ganz shot Rafe a teasing glance. “I’m getting stronger. Pretty soon I can take you on.”
“Lots of luck with that,” Rafe drawled. “Now eat, take your meds, sleep well, and say your prayers. God will save you.”
Rafe was halfway out the door when the book Ganz hurled at him whizzed by his head.
“Practice,” Rafe shouted as he raced down the hall. “I’ll be back.”
Chapter 32
Nicole had said she and Isabelle were going to their friend Maddy’s birthday party at a bar in the city. Isabelle had been given permission by her doctor to attend so long as she promised to simply sit and enjoy the celebration. It was a family party: Maddy’s parents, Nicole’s parents, her aunt and uncle, and other close friends of Maddy’s mom and dad. Cocktails, dinner, and opening presents were planned for the family festivities in the dining room. Later, the young crowd would arrive to party at the bar. A band was scheduled to begin playing at nine.
Rafe had heard all the details from Nicole over the past few days and he’d flown in to surprise her. But he was the one surprised when he walked into the downtown bar. Instead of the semi-sedate family affair he’d envisioned, the scene was a wild, raucous blowout. Rafe recognized the band, famous for their music and their groupies; they’d just come off a world tour. And his scowl had been in place since he’d walked through the door and was stopped by the wall of ear-splitting, lyric-screaming music. Jesus, they were dragging some woman down off the bar, the watching bartenders grinning up a storm; the dance floor was a writhing mass of bodies engaged in various forms of dry fucking, and if there was anyone over thirty in the room, he’d personally hand them a million.
Family party, my ass.
His scowl deepening, he scanned the dimly lit room looking for Nicole. The half-dressed, sweating musicians on the stage were rockin’; the bar was elbow to elbow with beautiful people knocking back booze, the tables, ditto. He checked out the banquettes but couldn’t see anyone resembling Nicole, although he knew Isabelle had blond hair. Christ, he’d never seen so many blondes.
He began a second, slower scan of the room and, almost hidden from view so he’d missed it the first time, at the very end of the bar Rafe glimpsed a familiar fishtail braid. The woman’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but the second she leaned over and kissed the man beside her, he launched himself forward, plowing headlong into the crowd, pushing people aside, spilling drinks, leaving a trail of teed off people behind. Then Nicole stepped back from the bar, half-turned, and a moment later disappeared down a corridor with a neon flashing sign above the entrance indicating the bathrooms.
What the fuck was she doing kissing some guy?
With half a room of solid people still in his way, Rafe continued to shoulder a path through the crowd. A couple of women squealed when he picked them up bodily and lifted them aside, but he swept past them a second later, immune to their caustic comments. Just as he escaped the last press of partygoers and reached the corridor, he caught a glimpse of the tag end of a fishtail braid swing out in a little arc and disappear through a doorway.
He was breathing hard when he reached the bathroom.
And seriously pissed.
The corridor was quiet after the noisy crowd in the bar. Taking out his cell, Rafe called Simon, who was waiting in the car, and explained where he was and what he needed. “Then come down here,” he said. “I want you to run interference.”
While waiting for Simon, Rafe turned away a number of women wantin
g to use the bathroom. “Sorry, it’s under repairs,” he said, super politely. “Water on the floor. There’s another bathroom near the dining room.” Then he’d smile and point; Simon had texted directions after talking to the bar owner.
Rafe counted the women exiting the bathroom, playing the percentages most would leave before Nicole. She’d gone in last.
When Simon arrived a few minutes later, Rafe relaxed. “The owner good?” he asked. “No problem shutting down one of his bathrooms?”
“No problem. You told me not to quibble on price. I didn’t. The guy said you can set up housekeeping in there for that amount of money.”
“Thanks, well done.” Rafe nodded at the bathroom door. “I’ll get rid of whoever’s left inside. Don’t let anyone else in.”
“Got it.” Simon’s brows rose faintly. “Some family party.” Rafe had given him the party specifics per Nicole’s description on the drive into the city.
“No shit. Makes you wonder what it’s like when it’s not a family party. Davey outside with Carlos’s crew?” Jin had been sighted at the Tokyo airport a few days ago. Carlos had sent reinforcements.
“They’re on watch. Along with Leo, so Dominic’s around somewhere.”
Rafe grinned. “Then I’d better see if there’s a lock on the door.”
“Not a bad idea. But don’t worry,” Simon said firmly. “No one’s getting in.”
“If I have to hustle some women out they might be spitting nails. Calm them down.”
“Doubt I’ll have to. If anyone can sweet-talk a woman, you’re the man.”
Rafe took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “Fuck. Life’s getting way the hell too complicated.” A wave of disbelief rolled over him. “I remember when I didn’t give a shit.”
“Yeah, major changes. Higher highs, lower lows, but the rush is worth it.”
Rafe gave him a quizzical look. “You too? Angelina?”
“Getting’ there.” Simon shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll let you—”
A woman suddenly walked out of the bathroom and both men stepped aside.
“Pardon me,” Rafe said quickly. “I’m waiting for my girlfriend. She’s been in there a while. I’m wondering if she’s okay. Long dark hair in a braid, bright blue eyes, semi-tall.”
“I didn’t see anyone. But there’s a small lounge in back. She could be there.”
“Thanks.” A charming smile. “Friend of Maddy’s, hey? Nice party.”
“I haven’t seen you before.” The shapely blonde examined Rafe in a slow head-to-toe survey as though he were for sale and she was buying.
“Just got into town. Distant cousin,” Rafe said, giving Simon a veiled look that said Get her the hell out of my way.
Pulling a flask out of his jacket pocket, Simon lifted it. “Would you care for a drink?” he asked with a boyish grin. “It’s from my family’s distillery in Scotland.”
“Ooohh,” the pretty blonde purred, clearly impressed with the scent of money. “I’d love a drink.”
Rafe slipped into the bathroom before the woman finished purring. The elegant, white marble, chandelier-lit room with mirrored walls and a line of sinks in startling flamingo pink was empty. But Rafe peered under the stall doors too, just in case. Also empty. Shooting a look at the archway that presumably led to the lounge, he gambled on Nicole being alone, moved to the outside door, and quietly turned the lock.
Game on.
Leaning back against the secured door, he slowly counted to ten, telling himself to calm down, to not do anything rash; there could be a perfectly good reason for that kiss. But a little voice inside his head snarled, Bull…shit, so it took another ten count before he had himself under control. Although a muscle was still twitching in his jaw as he pushed away from the door and walked across the bathroom.
He came to a stop in the archway.
And there she was.
Even in the ever-changing tangle of his thoughts, he was grateful.
She was alone. Slumped in an upholstered flamingo-print chair, head thrown back, eyes shut, her arms resting lax on the chair arms, her long legs stretched out in front of her. She wore a blue-and-white-striped silk T-shirt tucked into a belted, blue and white silk jacquard print skirt he didn’t recognize. He’d seen the blue platform heels before. Alessandra had sent them from Rome.
“Bonsoir,” he said, quietly.
At the sound of his voice, Nicole’s eyes snapped open. “Rafe!” she cried and began to rise.
He held his hand up. “Not yet, sit. I have a question. Who were you kissing?”
She sank back down. A blush rose up her neck to her cheeks like a flaming mark of infidelity, he thought, and an unprecedented sense of betrayal washed over him.
“I don’t know who he was.” Unsettled by Rafe’s chill, watchful gaze, she shoved her hair behind her ear in a small restless gesture. “Some friend of Maddy’s from UC Santa Barbara.”
She was nervous but at least she hadn’t lied. Maybe he should be grateful. “I suppose the next question then is why?” he asked, soft as silk.
She didn’t answer for a second, not wanting to make excuses with Rafe’s hard gaze on her. “I felt sorry for him. His friend was needling him about how he couldn’t get a woman. So I said, ‘I think you’re cute,’ and kissed him. That’s it. Don’t be mad.”
“A pity kiss for someone you don’t even know.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “But then you’re into strangers aren’t you? That’s how we met.”
“No. You’re wrong.”
He smiled a smile without humor. “Are you going to kiss guys you feel sorry for after we’re married?”
“No!”
“Why should I believe you?” He paused fractionally. “I flew in for this party and thought I’d surprise you and instead…?” Rafe spread his hands. “Here you are, surprising me.”
“I’m sorry I kissed him. I’m sorry you saw it. I’m sorry you’re pissed.” Nicole took a breath, not sure how to go on when he stood there unmoving, filling the entrance to the lounge: tall, powerful, his dark hair loose on his shoulders, his booted feet firmly planted, the silver grommets running down the front of the black leather boots strangely mesmerizing. As if they symbolized the magnetic strength and spirit of the man.
She wanted to say You look beautiful, you always do. Even casually dressed in black slacks, a white T-shirt with a faded red drug logo, and a lightweight black topcoat he was breathtaking. But instead, she said, “Don’t just stand there. Say something, please. Talk to me.”
“Do you like the band?”
The question startled her; the forbidding look in his eyes made her cautious. “They’re okay.”
“They fuck a lot of women. They actually compete among themselves. Weekly prize for the most ass.”
Her gaze sharpened. She’d done nothing wrong; you either stood up or you didn’t. “Is there a point to this conversation?” she asked icily.
He stared at her. “The point is, I’m viciously jealous,” he said irritably. “I wish I weren’t. It disgusts me. But I am, so even though I know how hypocritical it sounds, I don’t want you looking at a band that fucks their way through every town on their tour. I don’t want you touching another man. I don’t want you kissing anyone—pity kiss, air kiss, nothing. You touch only me, you kiss only me.”
Admittedly, the raw emotion in Rafe’s words was satisfying; she too was unlikely to share the man she loved. But there was a price to be paid for such unlimited authority. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or angry. It sounds as though you want to own me.”
“Let me make it clear,” he said flatly. “I do.”
“You understand it’s no longer the Middle Ages,” she noted sardonically.
“Certainly. Just so long as you understand you’re mine,” he returned, ignoring the self-contradictory statement. “Not just a little. Not just sometimes. Not just when you’re in a good mood. Always.”
She bristled, her temper like a force of nature. “I’d expec
t the same total commitment from you.”
“I haven’t kissed anyone but you since Monte Carlo. If only you could say the same,” he drawled. “So I’ll require a renewed commitment from you—verbally.” She was sitting up straight now, her snapping gaze trained on him, the flush on her cheeks not from guilt, but the familiar one he liked. She was fighting back. He put his hand to his ear and smiled faintly.
“I shouldn’t,” she muttered.
“Why the fuck not?” His smile disappeared. “I’m in this forever. I need the same from you.”
She stared, her eyes throwing off sparks. “Are we negotiating?”
“If that’s what you want to call it. I prefer capitulation.”
She was up on her feet in a flash and coming at him like a fierce little wildcat. He caught her hands easily as she lunged at him, shoved them behind her back, and dragged her close. “Now then, pussycat,” he said, smiling again, the feel of her—soft and scented, the mythical girl of his dreams—crushed against his body like coming home, “tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re mine.”
Her lips twitched, a tiny smile appeared, then a big, proper smile broke. “Okay, I’m yours. But it’s not capitulation. I hate that word. It’s a mutual agreement. By the way, you feel really good, divine, heavenly—hot,” she added at the last in a low sexy murmur, moving her hips gently against his rising erection. “Now tell me you’re mine and we can get out of here.”
There was an infinitesimal silence, then Rafe said, “I’m yours. And for your information,” he added with a grin, “hell just froze over.”
She winked. “Because I’m special.”
“Yup.” His dick seconded the motion, swelling larger. “I bought you a house in Cliffside. We can go there.”
“Okay. Wait, what?”
Her wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprise was worth the price of the house. “It’s down the block from your parents’. So you can walk over and visit your family whenever you want. I had a bed set up, but otherwise it’s damned empty. Your voice echoes.” He’d showered and changed there before coming to the party.
