by Elle Kennedy
“Yep.” Tate’s jaw hardened. “We’re going to crack this sex ring wide open.”
“Good.” Derek’s own jaw tensed as he held up the bag containing Chloe’s wedding dress. “Here’s the dress I mentioned. It needs to be tested ASAP.”
“You sure it’s blood?”
“Looks and smells like it.” He set the bag on the small credenza by the door, then settled in one of the leather armchairs across from Gunnar’s desk. “Amelia—well, it’s Chloe, actually—she’s freaking out about this. Which brings me to the next favor I need from you.”
While Gunnar closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair, Tate flopped down in the second armchair. “What is it?”
“I want you to do some digging about Felix Moreno. Background check, financial statements. Oh, and his current location. Chloe is convinced Felix is here in town, and considering the items that were left at her place, I’m inclined to agree. But I’d like to be sure.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“Just make sure you’re discreet. I don’t want to tip the bastard off that anyone’s asking about him. And I don’t want anyone outside our family knowing that Chloe is staying at my place.” He gave a grim look. “In fact, you two and Emma are the only ones who can know her real name. Call her Amelia when you’re around Piper and Sawyer, or—” he glanced at Gunnar “—even Violet.”
When Gunnar and Tate exchanged a look, Derek’s spine stiffened. “What?” he said defensively.
After a second of hesitation, Gunnar ran his hand over his stubble-dotted jaw. “What are you doing, Doc?”
“What do you mean?”
“Inviting this woman into your home, hiring a guard for her father, gathering intel about her husband. Her husband. She’s married, Derek.” Gunnar’s forehead creased. “You’re going to a lot of trouble to help her, and you barely even know her. So why?”
Damn good question. In fact, he’d been asking himself that very same thing ever since he’d brought Chloe back to his place. It was in his nature to help people, but deep down he knew his decision to take Chloe in was about more than simply being a Good Samaritan.
The woman had gotten under his skin from the moment they’d met. She was beautiful. Intelligent. Kindhearted. She also happened to be the first woman to snag his interest since Tess’s death.
The first woman in two years to call to something deep and primal inside him.
“She’s in danger,” he muttered. “She needs someone to look out for her.”
“And it has to be you?” Gunnar countered.
Tate suddenly laughed. “Of course it has to be him,” he told Gunnar. “This is Mr. Perfect we’re talking about. The gallant knight who slays dragons and rescues damsels.”
Derek frowned. “Is that really how you see me?”
Tate’s expression sobered. “Hey, now, I wasn’t making fun of you. I’m damn proud of you, Doc, and I respect the hell out of you. You’re a lot like Dad in that sense—larger than life, always stepping in and saving the day, keeping a cool head when everything falls apart.”
The comparison to their father brought a twinge of pain to his heart. Donovan Colton had been widely respected in the community, the man everyone turned to when they needed help or advice, or hell, even just a cup of coffee with a friend. Growing up, Derek had strived to be like his adoptive father, to master that same patience, develop that same strength and determination. Most days he thought he’d succeeded in following in his old man’s footsteps. Other days, he felt like a fraud, particularly when he thought about Tess.
Where had his patience been then? He’d tried to be understanding, tried to help her work through her inner struggles, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d failed.
Donovan Colton wouldn’t have failed.
“Chloe needs me,” Derek said in a rough voice. “She wouldn’t have asked me for help if she hadn’t been desperate. I know how hard it was for her to confide in me, which is why I can’t let her down.”
“How long do you plan on playing house?” Gunnar asked warily.
He shrugged. “Until she decides what she wants to do. A few days probably. But I don’t want her making any rash decisions and skipping town until we have more information about who broke into her apartment.”
“Well, I’ll do my best with that,” Tate said, rising from the armchair. He crossed the room and grabbed the bag Derek had dropped off. “I’ll get this tested, and in the meantime I’ll see what I can find out about Moreno. I’ll be staying at my place in Philly until I leave for New York, so call if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” Derek said gratefully. He stood up, glancing from one brother to the other. “I know neither of you is crazy about this situation. Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it, either. But I can’t turn Chloe away. I promised I’d help her.”
No, he needed to help her. But he couldn’t voice the thought. Neither Tate nor Gunnar suspected just how deeply his guilt ran. How he lay in bed at night, tormented, agonizing about Tess and all the things he could have done differently. All the ways he could have tried harder to help his wife.
He hadn’t been able to help Tess, but he sure as hell could help Chloe.
And this time, Derek refused to fail.
* * *
In the presidential suite of the Philadelphia Hilton, Felix Moreno stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows and examined the people bustling on the sidewalk below. From his vantage point, those people looked like ants. Little ants crawling along, going about their day, doing whatever mediocre things mediocre people did. A smirk lifted his lips. He had the urge to crush those ants with the toe of his Gucci loafer.
Turning away from the unimpressive display of easily forgotten people, he strode across the expensive carpet toward the mahogany desk in the suite’s sitting area. He lowered his Armani-clad body into the leather chair and scrolled through the saved text messages in his BlackBerry, searching for the confirmation details about tomorrow night’s appointment.
Once he reread the message, he opened his photo app and brought up a picture of his wife.
Chloe’s big hazel eyes stared up at him, wrought with vulnerability. Her dark blond hair was loose, cascading over one shoulder, her cupid’s-bow mouth pursed in a tiny smile.
As usual, a barrage of emotions swarmed his body at the sight of his wife’s face. Fury. Disappointment. Sorrow. Love. Disgust. How one little woman could inspire so many big, conflicting emotions was a downright mystery.
He stared at the photograph, studied it, but the answers he sought didn’t come.
“You stupid bitch,” he muttered. “You stupid, stupid bitch.”
Would it have killed her to try harder? To do more to please him? To obey him the way she’d promised in their wedding vows?
He’d given Chloe everything she’d ever wanted, and all he’d expected in return was love and obedience. Fidelity and respect. He could have married anyone he wanted, but he’d chosen her. One would think she’d have shown more gratitude.
The ringing of his phone jarred him from his angry thoughts. When he saw the caller ID, a combination of pleasure and apprehension shuddered through his blood.
“Hello, Mother,” he answered.
He held his breath as he awaited her response. He could always decipher her mood based on the tone of her voice.
“Hello, darling.”
Cool, precise, hard.
Panic fluttered up his spine. She was unhappy with him.
“Why did I have to find out from your secretary that you’re out of town?” Bianca Moreno asked coldly.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Felix said quickly. “It was a last-minute thing, Mother. I was planning on calling you when I got in.”
“And are you in?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was I t
he one who phoned you?”
His palms grew damp. “I walked into my suite just as you rang. I literally had the phone in my hand, about to call you.”
“Is that true, Felix?”
“Yes,” he lied.
When her voice relaxed, so did his shoulders. “That pleases me, then. How was the flight, darling?”
“Uneventful.” He rose from the chair and headed back to the windows.
“Did you order an in-flight meal?”
“Yes. The vegetarian dish.”
“Good, that’s good, darling. I’m happy you’re reducing your red meat intake like we discussed.”
Relief rippled in his stomach. Bianca Moreno was not the easiest woman to love—high maintenance, easily offended, with impossible standards at times. But she lived to make her son happy, and as a young boy he’d known that bringing her that same happiness in return would be his life’s goal. He’d recently turned fifty-one, but his devotion to the woman who’d borne and raised him had not dimmed. There was only one woman he trusted in his life, only one woman who had never let him down, only one woman who put him above all else.
Chloe had mocked him about it. Accused him of being unable to stand up to his mother. The bitch hadn’t understood that standing up to Bianca was unnecessary because his mother always had their best interests at heart. She’d even moved into their home to help Chloe, but had his wife thanked his mother for it? Not once.
“Now, how long will this trip take?” Bianca inquired.
“A few days, Mother. I have got several appointments to meet and a patient who requires my assistance.”
“As do I, darling. You promised you’d take care of that wrinkle for me.”
She sounded annoyed again, and he quickly attempted to soothe her. “I will clear my schedule the day I return and take care of that injection for you, Mother. But we both know you don’t need it. You’re more beautiful than any of the young starlets who walk into my office.”
Bianca giggled. “I am, aren’t I? Seventy-two years old yet you’d never know it. What age do you think I pass for, darling?”
He gave her the standard answer, the one that never failed to make her smile. “Forty-eight, of course.”
“Thanks to my handsome, talented son.” Bianca laughed again. “Now, I must run, darling. I have a nail appointment in twenty minutes. Please phone me this evening.”
“I will, Mother.”
They said goodbye and disconnected, Felix’s gaze once again focusing on the pedestrians bustling along the sidewalk thirty-five stories below. Philadelphia really was a dull place. Could hardly even be considered a city when compared to the modern, glittering hub that was Los Angeles. The East Coast bored Felix—too cold, too bland, too pedestrian. He supposed Newport and the Hamptons were tolerable, but nothing outshone the glamour of the West.
Good thing he wouldn’t be here long. Only a few pesky business matters to deal with, and then he’d be sipping champagne in the cabin of his chartered jet, on his way home to his beachfront mansion and booming practice.
He clicked a button on his phone and summoned Chloe’s picture again, frowning as he stared into those familiar hazel eyes.
“You ungrateful bitch,” he murmured.
Then he shoved the phone in his pocket and headed for the door.
CHAPTER 6
By the time Derek came home at six o’clock the next evening, Chloe was climbing the walls. She’d spent the day cooped up in Derek’s house after he refused to let her go to the clinic with him. He’d ordered her to lay low, insisting she needed to stay out of sight in case Felix was watching her apartment or following her around town. She knew Derek was right, but after working at his busy clinic for three weeks, sitting idle for an entire day had been boring as hell.
She’d passed the time cleaning Derek’s house from top to bottom, watching TV, taking a nap, leaving a message with her contact back in L.A. and then puttering around the kitchen for two hours cooking dinner. She figured having a warm meal on the table for Derek was the least she could do, a way to repay him for taking her in without a single complaint.
But she didn’t expect the burst of joy she felt when he strode through the door. She was so genuinely happy to see him that it startled her. As did the flicker of desire that rippled through her when he fixed those deep brown eyes on her and his sensual mouth quirked in a smile.
“Hey,” he said easily. He sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
“Dinner.” She awkwardly played with the hem of her blue angora sweater. “I commandeered your kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? I’m tempted to throw myself at the floor and kiss your feet,” he said with a grin. “I’m starving.”
As he shrugged out of his long wool coat, Chloe’s heart beat a little faster. His hunter-green long-sleeved shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and his black trousers emphasized his trim hips and taut ass. Her body’s reaction to this man confused her. Heart pounding, palms tingling, breasts heavy. It was weird—she’d always been attracted to flashier men, men like Felix, with perfectly styled hair, sophisticated clothes, somewhat of a swagger.
Derek Colton, however, was not flashy in the slightest. He possessed an understated elegance. A simple sense of style, that no-nonsense buzz cut, a quiet astuteness and easygoing demeanor. He was confident but not arrogant. Gentle but no pushover.
And whenever she got within two feet of him, she wanted to kiss the living daylights out of him.
Brain out of the gutter, Chloe.
Swallowing, she banished the inappropriate thoughts and smiled tentatively. “Do you want to eat in the kitchen or the dining room?”
“Kitchen. The dining room feels too formal. Let me just wash my hands and I’ll meet you there.”
God, he washed his hands before dinner. Somehow that made her pulse race even faster. Derek Colton was a gentleman right down to the core.
When Derek walked in a few minutes later, Chloe had already set the table and was straining on her tiptoes, attempting to reach the wineglasses in the top cupboard. With a chuckle, Derek came up behind her and said, “Let me do that.”
A shiver danced up her spine. Her hair was up in a ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck, and his hot breath fanned over her skin, making her giddy with desire. She inhaled sharply, only to breathe in the scent of his aftershave and another wave of giddiness crashed over her.
Trying to quell her rampant hormones, she darted toward the stove, keeping her back to him. If he knew how badly he affected her, he’d probably be horrified. Derek had never shown anything more than professional interest in her.
Oblivious to her thoughts, he carried the glasses to the table while Chloe served up the food.
His brown eyes widened when he saw everything she’d prepared—pot roast, garlic mashed potatoes, seasoned carrots. For dessert she’d even baked a chocolate cake, which sat on the counter in a glass cake dish.
“This looks amazing.” His face shone with pleasure. “Thanks for cooking, Chloe.”
His words startled her. Felix had never thanked her for a single thing. Ever.
“You’re welcome.”
Silence fell over the table as they dug into their food. Chloe kept shooting surreptitious looks at Derek, gauging his reaction to the meal. From the little contented noises he made and the way he devoured his first helping and then served himself a second, she knew she’d done well. Another rush of pleasure flooded her belly.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” he asked as he reached for the bottle of red wine and poured them each a glass.
She shrugged. “I lived alone for a lot of years. I had to learn how to survive on something other than frozen dinners. Once I married Felix, I didn’t do any cooking. I only started again during these past six months.”
<
br /> Derek furrowed his brows. “He didn’t want you to cook?”
“No. We had a housekeeper for that,” she said flatly. “I wasn’t allowed to clean, either. Or do laundry. Anything domestic, really. He paid other people to do it, and he’d get angry if I tried to do anything myself.”
She felt her cheeks go hot, knowing how pathetic she sounded, how weak for letting her husband forbid her to do basic tasks.
But Derek didn’t react with distaste—he simply nodded in understanding. “He sounds very controlling.”
“He is.” She couldn’t help but snort. “But Felix is nothing compared to his mother. That woman is a real piece of work. A controlling, overbearing, terrifying piece of work.”
He raised a brow before sipping his wine. “I take it you weren’t close to her.”
“Uh, no. Bianca despised me,” she told him. “From the second we met, she made it clear that she disapproved of me. She didn’t think I was good enough for her precious son, but truthfully, I don’t think anyone is good enough for Felix in her eyes. That woman made my life a living hell from day one.”
“My mother-in-law wasn’t much better,” Derek confessed.
Chloe faltered, wanting to know more but afraid to ask. This was the first time he’d mentioned his marriage, and she didn’t want to scare him off by asking too many questions. It was like walking on thin ice—one wrong move and the ice broke, taking any insight to this man with it.
“How long were you married?” she asked hesitantly.
His eyes grew shuttered. “Nine years.” And just like that, he steered the conversation back to her. “So Felix didn’t stand up to his mother when she treated you badly?”
“No. He worships the ground Bianca walks on.” She shook her head. “Their relationship is a tad unsettling, if I’m being honest. They’re very close—they tell each other everything, even private details, like, um, about sex and such. And she moved in with us about four years into the marriage, which was horrible.”
“Was she ill or something?”
“Nope. She moved in to ‘help me out.’ And trust me, living under the same roof as that shrew was pure torture. She criticized everything I did. She bad-mouthed me to the housekeeper. She snooped in our bedroom.” Chloe frowned. “She was convinced I was cheating on Felix and was determined to prove it.”
