by Elle Kennedy
She recoiled in shock. “What? No. You didn’t—”
“You took that job because of me. You’ve been running yourself ragged all these years—for me. I’m sorry, Liv. You shouldn’t be taking care of me. It should be the other way around.”
Olivia fell into her mother’s arms. The events of the past year finally hit her, and she began to shake and shudder as her mother offered the comfort she’d craved but hadn’t been able to ask for. She’d kept everything inside for so long, it was like a dam had broken inside her, and when they finally pulled apart, she was hiccuping and her eyes were red and swollen.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s all going to be okay.”
With a soft knock, Luke appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know we’ll be leaving for the airfield in an hour.” He glanced over his shoulder and beckoned to someone outside Olivia’s line of vision. “D will be escorting you to our compound.”
Olivia’s shoulders sagged. The idea of leaving town—leaving Luke—brought an ache to her heart. But who was she kidding? They would have had to say good-bye eventually. In fact, maybe she ought to arrange for those new identities sooner rather than later. While Luke was still in Manhattan even. That way she and her mom would already be gone when he returned to his boss’s compound.
It felt like a heartless move, saying a quick good-bye now instead of a proper one later when they would have more time, but what was the point in prolonging the inevitable? As wonderful as Luke was, his dangerous profession didn’t mesh with her cautious approach to life. Even her mother had seen it—that adventurous streak running through Luke. The bad-boy thing he had going on.
Good-bye had always been in the cards for them. The life she wanted for herself didn’t include a reckless mercenary, but a man she could rely on. Someone who came home at five o’clock and ate dinner with her, who’d be a good father to the kids she wanted to have, a dependable husband and a stable partner.
Still . . . she’d hoped they would have more time. Another day, a week. Even a few more hours.
The big mercenary with the tattoos appeared in the doorway. His visible lack of enthusiasm triggered Olivia’s irritation. She wasn’t sure she wanted that man anywhere near her mother.
Kathleen winced at the sight of him, but to her credit, she managed a polite smile. “Thank you,” she told D, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Sure,” he mumbled before stalking off.
Olivia frowned, then turned to her mother. “Did you bring your injections?”
“Yes, but I only have a two-week supply left.”
“We’ll get you anything you need,” Luke said. “It won’t be a problem.”
His answer seemed to appease Olivia’s mother. On shaky legs, Kathleen stood up. “Do I have time to wash up before we go?”
“You’ve got plenty of time.” He took a backward step, then halted and sought out Olivia’s gaze. “Can we, uh, talk before you leave for the airport?”
After a second of hesitation, she nodded.
“Okay. Um. Good.” He took another step. Halted again. This time, his dark eyes found Kathleen’s. “By the way, my middle name? It’s Gustave.”
Kathleen arched one brow in amusement. “Oh, dear.”
“What was my mama thinking, right?”
With a little wink, he walked off, leaving Olivia staring at his retreating back with uneasiness.
“You’re going to break up with that boy, aren’t you?”
Her mom’s blunt inquiry made her smile, as did the use of the word boy. “Breaking up implies we’re dating,” she pointed out. “Which we’re not.”
“But you are sleeping together.”
“Yes, but that’s just . . . sex.”
Kathleen laughed. “Liv, we both know you’re not the type of woman who does just sex. You wouldn’t have gotten intimate with him if you didn’t care about him.”
She couldn’t deny that. She did care about Luke. But that didn’t mean she would sacrifice the life she wanted in order to be with him.
“Luke is amazing,” she admitted. “He really is.”
“But?”
“But his work is dangerous. And he likes the danger—otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this job. I don’t want a daredevil for a partner, Mom. I don’t want to be with someone like . . .”
“Like your father?” When Olivia nodded, Kathleen sighed. “Your father had his flaws, honey, I know that. And yes, he didn’t always put his family first, but you know what? I wouldn’t have traded him for anything.”
“I don’t understand you sometimes,” she confessed. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and yet when it comes to Dad . . . you’re . . . you’re . . .”
Weak, she wanted to say. Blind. Illogical. But the words refused to exit her mouth.
Kathleen gave her a knowing look. “You think I should have left your father.”
“I don’t get why you didn’t.”
“Because I loved him.” Her mom offered a gentle smile. “The heart wants what it wants, Liv.”
“That’s it? That’s your reasoning for putting up with his recklessness and his selfishness and his—”
“Enthusiasm. Spontaneity. Laughter. Passion. Love.” Kathleen’s green eyes sparkled. “Eddie was the love of my life, honey.”
Olivia bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. The conviction in her mom’s tone was unmistakable, and it gave her not only pause but an inexplicable pang of guilt. Had she spent so much time focusing on her father’s shortcomings that she’d forgotten the good things about him? He must have had some redeeming qualities, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember.
Next to her, Kathleen’s voice grew weary. “You know what I worry about, Liv?”
She met her mom’s exhausted eyes. “What?”
“That when the man you’re meant to be with comes along, you’ll be so busy searching for someone who’s not like your dad that you’ll let the right one slip away.”
For some reason, those quiet words sounded oddly prophetic. Olivia couldn’t control the tremor of distress that skated through her. She tried to come up with a response, a way to convince her mother that those fears were unfounded, but she couldn’t find the words.
In the end, she simply brushed off the concerns. “Don’t worry. That won’t happen.” She studied Kathleen’s face, her protective instincts kicking in. “You look tired, Mom. After you wash up, I want you to lie down. You need to rest.”
“I’m fi—”
“No arguments. You might not like that I want to take care of you, but that’s too bad. I will always take care of you.”
“How about we take care of each other? How does that sound?”
Nearly choking on the lump that rose in her throat, Olivia reached for her mom’s hand. “It sounds good.” She swallowed hard, which brought a twinge of pain to her bruised neck. Hoping her mom hadn’t noticed her wincing, she stood up and took a step toward the door. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Kathleen smiled. “Take as long as you want, honey. I’ll be just fine.”
Olivia strode into the hall, then stopped to orient herself. Male voices wafted from the living room, but when a flash of movement caught her peripheral vision, she ended up lingering in the next doorway rather than going to find Luke.
Through the open doorway, she watched D bend over a large duffel bag, then straighten up and pull a black hooded sweatshirt over his head. He rolled up the sleeves, revealing the multitude of tattoos covering his arms. Lord, he was such an imposing man.
“What do you want?”
It didn’t surprise her that he’d detected her presence even with his back turned.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked.
He slowly faced her, the tightness in his cheeks hinting that he was grinding his teeth.
“You don’t look happy about escorting us back to your compound,” Olivia r
emarked.
“Gee, you figured that out just by looking at my face?” He went on before she could answer. “Seriously, what the fuck do you want?”
Setting her jaw, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “To make sure your dislike for me doesn’t affect the way you treat my mother,” she said, the cool note in her voice surprising them both.
“I don’t dislike you,” he muttered.
She frowned. “You weren’t exactly gracious when we met the other day. And I know the busted lip you gave Luke probably had something to do with me too. So, be an ass to me all you want, all right? But show my mother some respect. She’s been through a lot.”
Considering the man-of-few-words vibe he threw off, it didn’t surprise her when all she got in response was a grunt and a quick nod.
Neither satisfied her.
“Your word,” she insisted.
He let out a breath, then dragged his hand over the dark stubble on his jaw. “I give you my word that I will treat your mother with respect. Okay?”
Olivia nodded stiffly. “Okay. Thanks.” She was about to edge to the door, but the way he kept rubbing his chin was causing his wrist to jut out, drawing her gaze to yet another tattoo.
“Anything else?” D snapped when she didn’t make a move to leave.
“I, uh . . . it’s today, huh?”
His head snapped up, black eyes meeting hers. “What are you talking about?”
She bit her lip. “The anniversary of . . . of whatever that date signifies.” As she gestured to his wrist, she didn’t miss the flicker of shock that crossed his gaze.
However, it didn’t take long for the shock to transform into rage.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” he hissed. “And you’re right—I don’t like you. I think you’re a complete fool for getting involved with scum like Angelo, and I resent the fact—no, I loathe the fact that Luke almost got killed by Angelo’s goons all because you batted your pretty eyelashes and distracted the shit outta him. So I repeat, my tat—everything about me, for that matter—is none of your fucking business.”
Olivia felt like she’d been physically struck, but as she watched D’s broad chest heave from each ragged breath he took, she realized he was more shaken up than angry. Had nobody else noticed the date on his tattoo? Did his teammates even know what it meant?
“Can you just leave now?” he muttered. “I promised to be nice to your mother. There’s nothing else to say.”
He was turning away when Olivia suddenly bounded in his direction.
And hugged him.
D stumbled back, but she simply stepped in again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She had no clue what had propelled her to embrace this man—all she knew was that her heart was weeping for him and her first instinct was to hold him as tight as she possibly could.
So she did. She dug her fingers into the nape of his neck, holding him so tight she herself could barely breathe. His big body was stiffer than a two-by-four, his unsteady breaths fanning over her forehead, his anger and resentment thickening the air.
And then something peculiar happened. She felt his muscles relax, felt his head drop against her shoulder. He didn’t return the hug. His arms dangled at his sides, but his body language softened, sagged with defeat.
Battling a wave of embarrassment, Olivia abruptly dropped her hands from his neck.
“Yeah, so, uh . . .” She inched away. “My mom means the world to me. Please be good to her.”
D’s face remained utterly impassive. “I will.”
“Thank you.”
She hurried out of the room and tried not to dwell on what she’d just done, but the hug had left her feeling so flustered she ended up stumbling back to the master bedroom instead of searching for Luke.
When she entered the room, she saw that the door to the private bath was closed. “Mom?” she called.
Kathleen didn’t answer. Probably couldn’t hear her over the running water.
Olivia headed for the door and rapped her knuckles against it. When her mother still didn’t respond, a tiny burst of panic ignited in her gut. She knocked once more, then turned the doorknob and peeked into the bathroom. “Mom?”
The sight she encountered stopped her heart.
“Mom!”
She dove onto the pristine tile floor where her mother lay unconscious. Kathleen’s kerchief had fallen off her head to reveal the stubble-covered scalp beneath, and one limp arm was extended in the direction of the door, as if she’d tried to grab it before passing out.
As fists of fear repeatedly pummeled her, Olivia cradled her mother’s head in her lap, then fumbled for Kathleen’s wrist so she could check for a pulse. Relief spiraled through her when she felt a vibration there.
When both D and Luke skidded into the bathroom a second later, she was still huddled over her mother’s body. She raised her head at their entrance and looked up at them with wild eyes. “We need to get her to the hospital!”
Chapter 21
“What a night, huh?” Isabel said dryly.
Trevor watched as she leaned against the railing on the terrace, her gaze fixed on the street below. They were finally alone for the first time all night and he couldn’t say he minded. Isabel’s presence soothed him, and after the chaos of the last couple of hours, he needed the peace and quiet.
Luke, Sullivan, and Olivia were at St. Francis Hospital, where Kathleen Taylor had been admitted. Sully had checked in twenty minutes ago with an update—looked like Mrs. Taylor had collapsed due to exhaustion. The anemia, fatigue, kidney problems . . . apparently tonight’s excitement had exacerbated the woman’s already fragile condition. Fortunately, the fainting spell was not an indication of the cancer returning, but Kathleen’s oncologist still wanted to keep her overnight for observation.
The trio would remain at the hospital with Olivia’s mother, while Holden and Liam Macgregor watched the Diamond Mine until Trevor and Isabel relieved them in the morning. And D . . . well, he was probably halfway to Mexico by now.
“What a night,” Trevor echoed with a sigh. “D looked ready to kill me.”
“Did you really have to send him away? I thought he was ordered to watch the Taylors.”
“He was ordered to report back to Morgan. The Taylors just happened to be going to the same place.” But with Olivia’s mother in the hospital, that plan was shot to hell. Trevor would need to arrange for one of the contractors to take over watch duty while the rest of the team dealt with this Dane mess and the heroin shipment.
“He needs to get his shit together,” Trevor added with a frown. “He wouldn’t have been an asset to this mission. His head was all over the place.”
“You don’t have to defend your decision,” Isabel said gently. “I trust your judgment.”
Warmth spread through his chest. He still wasn’t sure why Isabel had stayed rather than returning to her apartment, but he was glad she had. She’d seemed on edge all night, ever since she’d helped Olivia flee the club. Her body language was stiff as she absently watched a pair of teenagers stroll along the sidewalk.
This would have been a good time for a heart-to-heart—her shield was down, the easygoing front riddled with cracks, but before he could attempt to make the connection he wanted, Isabel’s cell phone rang.
She fished it out of her pocket and checked the display. “It’s Oliver.” She quickly answered the call. “Hey, Ollie, you got something for us?” She paused, glanced over at Trevor. “Grab a pen and paper, will you?”
He popped into the living room to get a notepad and ballpoint pen. When he returned to the terrace, he handed them to Isabel, who began making notes.
“You sure?” she said into the phone. “Yeah . . . No, this is good stuff, Ollie. How reliable is the source?” She chuckled. “Right. Sorry I asked.” She kept scribbling. “What about the truck? Right . . . okay . . .”
Trevor heard Reilly’s tinny voice, but couldn’t make out the Irishman’s words. Whatev
er he was saying, Isabel looked incredibly pleased. “Thanks again . . . Yeah, the money was transferred into your account a couple of hours ago . . . Definitely . . . Yep, until next time.”
She hung up. “All right, here’s what we’ve got. A freighter left the coast of Colombia earlier this week, en route to the Dominican Republic. The goods were transferred onto a cargo vessel that docked in Miami this afternoon and were being housed in a warehouse at the port until about eight p.m. this evening.” She glanced at what she’d written. “There have been no deliveries in the past week from any of the companies Holden told Oliver to check, but at nine o’clock tonight, a cargo ship came in carrying a large shipment of coffee beans—recipient, Premiere Roast.”
Trevor sucked in a breath. “That’s one of De Luca’s import businesses.”
“Yep. The coffee was loaded onto a Premiere Roast truck and is being driven north as we speak. And the Dominican cargo ship has left the port.”
“So the heroin came in via the Dominican and stashed on the coffee truck. Did Oliver say where it’s headed?”
“Queens. That’s where Premiere Roast’s main warehouse is located. I wrote down the address, but Ollie’s e-mailing me all the information as well. According to his sources, the truck should be arriving in the city at ten o’clock tomorrow evening.”
“They’re unloading it after hours, then.”
“They have to, what with a hundred kilograms of heroin in it. They’d never take the chance of unloading during business hours. And Angelo will probably bring in a separate crew for this delivery. He won’t risk any of the Premiere Roast workers catching wind that there’s more than coffee beans on the truck.”
“It’ll make it tough for us to recon the coffee warehouse,” Trevor mused. “If Angelo brings in a second crew, any intel we gather during the day will be useless. And we have no idea how many guards he’ll bring with him for the transaction.”
“I’m not sure there’ll be a transaction. Oliver said the Moreno cartel usually sends one representative with each delivery, but the cash already exchanged hands when the order was placed.”
