by Tami Lund
Emily Kate’s heart lurched into her throat when Connor did not respond. He wasn’t standing up to her brother. Just like all the rest of them. Which meant whatever she thought they might have...Her anger bubbling to the surface, she slid from the booth, snagged a couple of dirty plates from the table, and stomped across the room toward the kitchen. She needed space, needed to get away from Connor and her brother and, frankly, everyone at the moment.
She distracted herself by loading the dishwasher, and when she turned around to find another task to try to keep her mind off what was happening in the other room, Connor stood there, blocking her path.
“I’m not going back to Detroit,” he said.
She shook her head. “Yes, you are.”
He advanced toward her, and she found herself stepping backward until her back was pressed against the rim of the stainless steel dishwashing machine. The room was steamy and hot. Emily Kate felt sweat beading on her forehead.
He didn’t stop until he loomed over her, his body pressed against hers as she grabbed the edge of the counter and looked up at him. “I’m not going back to Detroit,” he said with a growl, and then he cupped her face and kissed her.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t the room that was making her so hot. Maybe it was Connor. His kisses could melt gold, they were so searing. And like that gold, she melted into him, completely surrendered under his touch. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clutched at the back of his shirt as he continued to ravish her mouth. She felt his hands drop from her face to cup her ass and pull her close, shifting so that her most sensitive area slid along his incredibly hard erection. She moaned.
“Lucky it’s me walking in here with these dirty dishes,” a male voice said from behind Connor. “Jack’s likely to pull out his gun, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled the trigger.”
Emily Kate pushed Connor away then grasped the counter and tried to catch her breath. Cullen chuckled as he piled the dirty dishes next to the dish tank. And then he slapped Connor on the back.
“If you want to win over Jack, I can tell you this isn’t the way to do it.”
“You have any advice for me?” Connor asked, but Cullen chuckled again and left the room.
Emily Kate busied herself straightening her dress and looking everywhere but at him.
“Can I spend the night tonight?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re going back to Detroit. I told you I’m not sleeping with you anymore if you’re leaving.”
“I’m not leaving,” Connor insisted. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Before she could answer, Cullen appeared in the doorway again. “Hey, Romeo and Juliet, we’re done here. Want us to bring back the rest of the dishes?”
She shook her head. “I’ll get them.”
“Okay. Rikeland, you need a ride someplace?”
“No,” Connor said, looking directly at Emily Kate.
Jack appeared and glared at him over Cullen’s shoulder. “We’ve put a tail on you, in case Vik’s guys try anything tonight.” He sounded as if he would rather let Connor take his chances with the casino boss.
Connor didn’t bother to thank him.
“You, too,” Jack said, pointing at her. “Don’t do anything that might put your life in danger, got it?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she drawled, which earned her an eye roll from Jack.
They left the restaurant soon thereafter, and Connor and Emily Kate cleaned up in silence. When everything was in order and ready for opening the next day, Connor remarked, “Well, I guess we’ll have two tails tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because I’m spending the night at your house. I don’t care if I have to sleep in the guest room again. I’m not leaving you alone.”
She made him sleep in the guest room. As much as she craved his touch, her heart was too damn fragile at the moment. And while she was reasonably certain he was innocent of whatever was happening at the casinos, the reality was, he still believed he needed to go to back to Detroit to feel accomplished. He believed his future was there, not in Uncertain, Texas.
“You’re wrong,” he insisted when he stood in the hall and she started to close her bedroom door, with him on the outside. “I’m not leaving. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, Emily Kate.”
She desperately wanted to believe him.
Except, in the morning, he left and went back to Detroit.
Chapter 12
“Your sister is never going to forgive me.”
Jack glanced up from the pile of papers he was studying and gave Connor an impassive look. He then returned to reviewing his notes.
“That was your plan, wasn’t it? This isn’t even about keeping either one of us safe. It’s about keeping me and Emily Kate apart. Admit it. You don’t give a shit if I live or die.”
“I do care if my sister lives or dies, though,” Jack said, finally speaking for the first time since they boarded the plane bound for Detroit. It was barely seven-thirty in the morning, and Jack looked well groomed and perfectly put together. Unlike Connor, who looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Which he had. Forcibly. Under duress.
“Then what the hell are you doing going to Detroit with me?” Connor demanded.
“Emily Kate is safe in Cullen’s care. I trust him explicitly.”
“Unlike me.”
Once again, Jack did not respond.
When the flight attendant pushed the beverage cart past their seats, Connor ordered two Jack and Cokes and then smugly looked to Jack to pay. He bared his teeth at Connor and pulled out his credit card. Then Connor proceeded to drink both beverages.
“It’s eight o’clock in the morning,” Jack commented as he glared at him.
He shrugged. “And you pulled me out of a warm bed. In fact, I was just about to get up and head down the hall and —” Jack punched him.
“Ow,” Connor complained as he gingerly touched his jaw, which was still swollen from yesterday’s punch.
He ordered another drink.
“Still can’t believe you told the TSA agents I was a fugitive just to get me on the plane, since I don’t have any identification.”
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t tell them you were a fugitive.”
“Fine. You let them believe I was.”
“I showed them my badge and the orders from my director, stating I had permission to take you to Detroit.”
Connor downed his drink. And ordered another.
By the time the airplane touched down in Detroit, he was staggering drunk, and Jack wasn’t being remotely gentle as he maneuvered him off the plane. “You don’t deserve my sister,” he said with disgust in his voice.
“I’m willing to bet you probably don’t deserve Kennedy either, and yet here you are.”
Jack punched him again.
“How come nobody tries to arrest you when you do that?” Connor complained.
“I’m the law, dumbass,” Jack replied.
They took a shuttle to a hotel near the airport. “Now what?” Connor asked when they checked into a suite with two separate bedrooms.
“Now, we wait.”
Connor glared at him. When that gave him no real satisfaction, he raided the minibar.
***
“Jesus, can’t you sit still?”
“We’re trapped in here like fricking animals. How can you sit still?”
Jack shrugged. “I do it all the time. Surveillance. Paperwork. Research.”
“I’d go nuts having to sit at a desk all day long.” Connor continued his relentless pacing. After emptying the minibar that morning, he’d passed out cold. He woke up five hours later and ordered room service, showered, and drank a bottle of Coke to make himself feel better. Jack refused to let him call Emily Kate, so Connor started pacing and hadn’t stopped since.
“To each his own.”
“What’s the purpose of this? Why ar
e we in Detroit? Other than to keep Emily Kate and me apart. Why can’t I go to my apartment?”
Jack considered his suggestion. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said, and so they went downstairs, called an Uber, and headed to Connor’s place.
He lived in a loft in a converted warehouse, a few blocks from the high rise where Oliver’s Restaurant was located. Jack gave it a disdainful look. “Bit of a slob, aren’t you?”
“I’m a guy. If my apartment were clean, you’d think I was gay.”
“Considering what I’m pretty sure you’ve done with my sister, I think it’s safe to say you’re attracted to women.”
Jack wandered around, outright snooping. He found a red leather bustier and gave Connor a questioning look. “This doesn’t look like something my sister would wear.”
He snagged the undergarment and stuffed it into the back of his closet. “It isn’t,” he said shortly. “But I’m sure it will come as no surprise that I wasn’t a virgin when I met your sister.”
“What were you when you met my sister? One-night stand guy? Relationship guy? Have you been married before? Do you have illegitimate kids tucked away up here in Detroit?” Jack studied a five-by-seven framed photograph of a young boy and girl with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. They were laughing into the camera. The girl had no front teeth.
Connor grabbed the photo and placed it back on the dresser. “Me and my sister,” he said shortly. “And does it really matter what kind of relationships I had before I met your sister? Shouldn’t it only matter what I want right now?”
“I know what you want right now,” Jack muttered as he continued his perusal of Connor’s apartment.
“You don’t have a clue what I want.”
Jack pulled open the drawer in the bedside table, saw the box of condoms there, and scowled.
“At least I practice safe sex,” Connor pointed out.
Jack didn’t look pleased by this fact.
“You’re a fricking hypocrite.”
“What would you do if you found out your sister was sleeping with someone like you?”
“I’d think she was a damned lucky girl. Now if it was someone like you...”
Jack took a menacing step toward him, and Connor beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the room. He was sick of being the other man’s punching bag.
Jack’s cellphone vibrated. He pulled it off his belt and glanced at the screen before answering. After a brief conversation, he disconnected the call.
“A thug named Jimmy Tonkett just got off a plane at Detroit Metro.”
“So?”
“He’s one of Vik’s men. Game on.”
The light bulb popped on. “You were luring them away from Emily Kate,” he said, awed. “Using me as bait, but still. That’s okay, so long as they leave her alone.”
An hour later, Jack peered out the big plate glass window that gave him a spectacular view of the street and the river beyond. “Like I said: Game on. I suspect that’s Mr. Tonkett, climbing out of the cab and heading toward your building right now.”
“How do you know?”
Jack threw him a “get real” look. “I do my homework, Mr. Sous-Chef. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re leading this guy on a wild goose chase while the Detroit FBI office gets their shit together.”
The first stop was Connor’s old restaurant. “Seriously? Why here?”
Jack shrugged. “I heard they have good food.” He then proceeded to charm Jasmine, the hostess, into seating them, despite the fact that they did not have reservations and were not remotely dressed appropriately for such a high-end venue.
“Good to see you again, Connor,” Jasmine simpered after she’d seated them. “You planning to come back to us?” She sounded hopeful.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Don’t burn any bridges,” Jack suggested as he flashed the hostess a charming smile.
After he finished his foie gras stuffed quail, Jack pushed his plate away. “That wasn’t nearly as good as I was expecting from a place with the kind of reputation this restaurant has.”
Connor happened to agree. “It’s like they forgot to season it. I wonder what’s going on in the kitchen?” he mused, his curiosity piqued.
Jack waved down their server. “Can we speak to the general manager, please?”
Connor whipped his head up to stare at Jack. “What are you doing? We don’t want to talk to the GM. I walked out of this place three weeks ago without giving notice. The last thing I want to do is—” His words were cut off by the appearance of his former boss—not the general manager but the owner himself. Connor bit back a groan. This day just kept getting better and better.
“Connor Rikeland,” the man said, surprise in his voice. Connor wasn’t sure if it was real or feigned.
Oliver Yosman was a portly man with thick, silver hair and small, beady eyes. He ran one of the single most successful restaurants in Detroit. Famous actors, famous chefs, producers of television shows on the Food Network, writers for food magazines—they all scurried to Oliver’s restaurant. He was the king of restaurants in the Midwest. Everyone and anyone in the business would die to work for Oliver.
And Connor had walked away from it.
“Oliver,” he said with a curt nod. He had no idea what to expect, considering he’d left the guy with a brand-new executive chef and no one to show him the ropes.
“We wanted to let you know we had high expectations from your restaurant, Mr. Yosman,” Jack said. “And we were both greatly disappointed.”
It took nearly a full minute for Oliver to comprehend that Jack had just insulted his baby. His jaw dropped.
Jack nodded, as if he were a connoisseur of high-end delicacies. “In fact, I’ve had much better at this little restaurant in northeast Texas. It’s called Louisiana Kitchen. Ever heard of it?”
Connor’s eyes widened as he stared at Jack, who acted as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. What was Emily Kate’s brother getting at?
Oliver sputtered indignantly. “Of course I’ve never heard of it. Northeast Texas? What do they know about fine dining?” he scoffed.
“That’s not true.” Connor felt compelled to defend Emily Kate’s restaurant. “Have you ever made a roux? It’s pretty damn difficult. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
Oliver’s nose quivered as he stared down at Connor. “What are you doing back here, Rikeland? Come to beg for your position back?”
Connor threw his napkin on the table and stood up. “Not a chance,” he said before looking at Jack. “Ready?” He could have sworn Jack looked amused. Bastard. What the hell was he trying to prove?
The next stop was an art gallery, owned by one delectable and delightful Anna Amore, who all but wrapped herself around Connor when he and Jack stepped into the tastefully decorated space.
“Connor, darling,” she cooed as she ran a hand through his hair. “The scruffy look is good on you. Where have you been, and what are you doing tonight?”
“I’m busy tonight and probably for the foreseeable future.” He disengaged himself before she could make assumptions he had no interest in honoring. Wasn’t Jack having a grand old time with this little walk down memory lane? He’d obviously done his research, to know exactly where to go to make Connor feel the most uncomfortable and insecure.
Then he caught sight of what looked like something a toddler would have created, hanging in a prominent place on the gallery wall, with a price tag of $2,495. Emily Kate’s paintings were better and worth far more than whatever the hell that thing was supposed to be.
“Hey listen, Anna, are you looking for a new artist to preview?”
“I’m always looking for fabulous new artists, Connor. It’s how I stay ahead of the competition.”
“I might have one for you. I’ll send you some pictures of her work, okay?”
Jack scowled at him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Connor affected
an innocent look. “What? You don’t want your sister to be successful at what she loves?”
“I don’t want her to move here with you,” Jack snarled back.
“Maybe that decision should be left up to her.”
“Maybe you need to mind your own business.”
They stepped out of the gallery and into the cool dusk of an early evening in spring. May in Detroit was a far cry from May in Texas.
Connor suddenly threw up his hands and turned to face Jack. “Look, I get it, okay? Nobody’s good enough for your sister. As it happens, I agree with you. She’s an amazing woman, talented and sweet and smart and, well, perfect. But damn it, you need to let her live her life. Let her date and screw up and fall in love. How fair is it that you won’t even let her try?”
“If I let her, you have to, too.”
“Hell no.” Before Connor could expand on that statement, small pieces of brick splattered near his ear, spraying him with dust and debris.
“What the—” Before he could finish, Jack grabbed him and shoved him into the nearest alley. Connor turned around and saw that the agent was pressed against the wall, his gun at the ready, steadily watching the street.
“Our friend found us?” Connor asked as he obediently stayed back in the shadows. He’d never shot a gun in his life. Hell, he’d never been shot at until yesterday. He was frankly okay with letting the expert handle this situation.
“Yeah. Looks like he got tired of waiting for a good opportunity.” He dug out his cellphone, tossed it to Connor, rattled off the code to unlock the screen, and added, “Call the number listed under Quinn Daniels. He’s in the Detroit office. Tell him to get us backup, pronto. Then call Cullen and let him know we’re under fire.”
“Yes, sir,” Connor said, only half mockingly.
Chapter 13
Ironic that last time he warned her he was planning to leave and then he didn’t, but this time, he swore and swore and swore he wouldn’t...and then he did.
She’d lain in bed last night, reviewing the events of the last few days, over and over, until she had been almost convinced he meant it when he promised he wouldn’t leave.
