Loyal Hearts (The Barrington Billionaires Book 4)

by Danielle Stewart

  “Angus?” Dallas asked, his face twisting up in confusion.

  “Rylie,” Harlan corrected, blushing. It was complicated to be playing this tantalizing game with Dallas while also hoping Rylie could get himself together. She was unsure how that must look to Dallas.

  “I’m expecting to hear from Lilly sometime this morning. She’ll take good care of him if he’s serious about cleaning himself up. It’s his best shot.”

  “But he has to take it,” she gulped. “He has to want to get himself back on track.”

  “Oh,” Dallas said, lighting with recognition. “I hadn’t thought about how that must feel.”

  “What?” she wondered, hardly able to articulate her feelings herself.

  “The idea that this is his best shot, but only if he takes it. Not taking, walking away, that’s choosing his problems over his family. It’s making a conscious choice that he’s not ready to stop, and his children aren’t worth changing for.”

  “Stop,” she begged, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I, I would rather talk about the case. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

  “Shit,” Dallas said, dropping his fork down. “I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean it like that. Sometimes I forget about the emotional side of things. Everything is just what it is.”

  “You’re right,” she nodded, patting her eyes dry quickly. “It’s pretty cut and dry.”

  “But people have feelings,” Dallas said, still chastising himself. “I need to remember that more.”

  “Angus,” Harlan announced, clearing her throat and fidgeting nervously. “How can we find out more about him? I’ll see what I can find online. Everything I pulled up so far was pretty superficial. He’s a longtime resident, lives a few streets over from the house he grew up in. I’m sure he’s well known in the neighborhood. Maybe someone can tell us something.”

  “You feel like playing private eye?” Dallas asked, his coy, playful smile returning.

  “I’d love to, but I’m playing Mom today. The girls have a cookie bake sale for dance school, and I’ll be rolling out dough with them today.”

  “You know you’re rich, right? Like insanely wealthy. You can buy cookies, gourmet cookies. Hell, you can buy the dance school if you wanted to instead of raising a few bucks for it.” Dallas polished off the rest of his juice and leaned way back in his chair, eyeing her as though he were dissecting her.

  “I grew up rich,” Harlan said, fiddling with the locket around her neck. “I grew up with a nanny, a chef, and loads of people available to do anything I wanted. The only problem was they couldn’t give me the one thing I really hoped for. Some flour on my hands, while my mother and I burnt a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I wanted to dirty up my clothes out on the playground. I wanted to dance at some tiny little school that only kept the lights on because the parents were willing to get together and sell baked goods.”

  “And see I wanted to be a billionaire who didn’t have to cut lawns to make sure we had enough money for groceries. I wanted to go to a school that didn’t have windows so old the snow blew in.”

  “I guess we all want what we don’t have,” she said, averting her eyes as he scrutinized her face.

  “I think it’s great that you’re making things the way you want them. You are making your life the one you want.”

  “Right,” Harlan laughed. “The world is my oyster.”

  “From the outside, if I only saw you today, with an apron on cooking these scrambled eggs and singing to the girls before you knew I was here watching you, I’d say you were doing all right.”

  “Life’s just a big book. You’re walking in on the middle of a chapter. You’re looking at the pages that feel good to read.”

  “You’re the author,” Dallas said, pushing his chair back from the table and standing. “Write yourself something good. Be happy, and before you know it you’ll have plenty of reasons to be.”

  “So simple,” she smiled, sorry to see him heading for the door. “Good luck tracking down information on Angus. I’ll spend time this afternoon looking around online again.”

  “When I went to visit him at the prison the other day, Tim was asking about you,” Dallas said, standing in the kitchen doorway, half in and half out. “He saw you at the appeal and he wanted to know who you were.”

  “What did you tell him?” Harlan was anxious to hear how Dallas described her to a friend.

  “I told him the truth,” he winked, flashing a dimple.

  “The truth?” she asked, raising a challenging brow in his direction.

  “Yep,” he said, snapping his lips shut and heading out the front door, leaving her with more questions than answers.

  “Mom,” Logan called from the other room. “Anna spilled syrup on the carpet.”

  “It was her fault,” Anna bickered.

  “Okay, okay,” Harlan said, taking one more bite of her now cold eggs. “Mom’s coming.”

  Chapter 15

  Dallas sat in the corner booth and scanned the menu. He was originally going to have a soda, ask a few questions, and be on his way. But once the plate of meatballs went by and was served to the table next to his, he knew he had to eat. Now he was wondering how many things he could order without looking like a crazy person.

  “Is this your first time in?” a curly haired woman with a bright smile asked as she brought him a glass of water. She was tiny, hardly five feet tall, and her eyes were rimmed with thick eyeliner.

  “It is,” Dallas said, still trying to figure out if chicken parm and a couple slices of pizza was too much. “Everything looks great. Any suggestions?”

  “Stretchy pants,” she laughed, pulling out an order pad and getting ready to write down his order. “The meatballs are the specialty. My father got the recipe from his grandmother.”

  “Your father, he’s the owner here?” Dallas asked, his eyes still on the menu. “Or the chef or something?”

  “He was,” she said, enough of a shake in her hand to give her away. A chord had been struck, and Dallas knew he’d have to capitalize on it.

  “Not anymore?” Dallas asked, still forcing himself to act only half interested.

  “He was killed about a year ago. My mother and I are running the place now. He had three other restaurants but we had to close those. This was his flagship location. We’re doing the best we can with it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Dallas said earnestly. “It must be hard to be here every day without him.”

  “My mother and I always teased him. Said his job was easy, and he was making too big a deal of everything. Now that we’re trying to keep things afloat, we realize how much he really had to do.” There were tears threatening to fall from her sad eyes.

  “My uncle had a sandwich shop in South Boston when I was growing up. I don’t know how he ever managed it. I’d go in during the summer and help out, and I’d be amazed at how much work went into it. I’m sure your dad would be proud. It seems like you’re doing great.”

  “Thanks,” she said, choking up. “That’s really nice of you. You know what? I’ll bring you a couple of my dad’s favorite things. You won’t be disappointed.” A big bright smile lit her face as she sauntered away excitedly.

  “She’s a sweet girl,” the man who’d just received the large plate of meatballs said. His bristly white mustache bounced up and down as he spoke.

  “Seems like it,” Dallas agreed, trying not to look overly anxious to chat. Though he knew this would be his best way to find out more about Angus, no one ever liked someone they thought was prying. “Too bad about her dad. Was it a car accident or something?”

  “No,” the man said in a low voice, checking over his shoulder as he spoke. “My name’s Peanut,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Peanut?” Dallas asked, unable to hide his amusement.

  “Believe it or not, I was a late bloomer. A tiny kid.” He patted his large belly and laughed at the irony.

  “My name is Dallas,” he said as they exchanged a f
irm handshake. “I’ve heard good things about this place, but never tried it. I had no idea about her father.”

  “Murdered,” Peanut whispered. “A goddamn tragedy. The man was a saint. Did everything to make sure his wife and daughter were well taken care of and protected.”

  “They needed protection?” Dallas asked. “The restaurant business isn’t all that dangerous is it?”

  “Not if you’re willing to grease the wheels it’s not. Far as I knew Angus always paid his dues to keep things around here going smooth. There’s no way he’d have taken a risk and not paid. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Dallas said, sipping on his water. “Protection. I know what you mean. I grew up not far from here. I know how that works.”

  “They all liked him, which tells me he paid, and probably always on time. But he didn’t have any other enemies. It had to be them. Maybe he pissed one of them off. You never know.” Peanut swirled a forkful of spaghetti up so skillfully it looked as though he’d practiced it every day.

  “They arrest anyone?” Dallas asked, thinking about Tim rotting in a prison cell while the real murderer went free all this time.

  “Some kid, I don’t know him. Probably some low level member trying to gain some notoriety. It’s a goddamn shame.” Peanut shook his head and did a quick sign of the cross, likely asking forgiveness for using the Lord’s name in vain.

  “They give the girls here any trouble?” Dallas asked, wondering if the people putting the screws to Angus were still causing problems. Still a threat.

  “Genie would have told me if they were,” Peanut assured him. “Maybe they realized killing her father was enough payment. The guys when I was growing up, it was so different. If I were a younger man, I’ll tell you . . .” Peanut trailed off, loading his mouth with meatballs. “The squeeze they have on these places. It’s a damn crime.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dallas said, shaking his head in disgust. He knew better than to press for a name, it would only raise a red flag. It had to be a crime family in the area, and he’d be able to narrow it down. Larry hadn’t had any direct connections to any of the families, but this could put them on the right track to piece it together.

  “You’ll love the meatballs,” Peanut assured him, tapping his glass and smiling as Genie came by and filled it with more wine.

  "I’m sure I will,” he agreed, taking another look around the quaintly decorated, cozy restaurant. Maybe he’d bring Harlan here sometime. Sometime when he wasn’t commissioned to protect her. Some night when she wasn’t worried about Rylie. Some night when everything was easy.

  “You married?” Peanut asked, grabbing a piece of bread and mopping up some of the sauce from his plate.

  “No,” Dallas answered with a laugh. “I don’t do love. It’s a nice concept but it’s not for me.”

  “Oh please,” Peanut scoffed. “Love is for everyone. Don’t be stupid. It’s the reason for waking up in the morning.”

  “Love is essentially a weakness,” Dallas explained. “It’s creating a vulnerability where you didn’t have one. In my line of work anything that makes you susceptible to more danger is a liability I can’t afford. The second you start loving someone, valuing them more than yourself, is the moment you can’t make objective choices. You can’t see clear enough to do what needs to be done.”

  “Love is a weakness,” Peanut laughed, using his napkin to wipe his mustache clean. “Genie are you hearing this? Love is a weakness, this guy says.”

  Genie laughed too as she brought him his first plate. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” she teased.

  “I’m just saying that love removes clarity. We’re this wonderfully evolved species, yet we let a feeling run our lives. Situations are what they are. They are logical. They are fact. Then all the sudden you love someone, and there’s a variable that can’t be factored in. This strange abstract dynamic that can’t be summed up or accounted for, now becomes your entire life? I just don’t buy into that.”

  “You’re depressing me,” Genie groaned, handing him some extra napkins. “Love doesn’t make you weak; it gives you more reasons to be strong. More purpose. More resolve. Love doesn’t keep you from seeing clearly; it lets you see what you never even knew was there.”

  “That was beautiful, Genie,” Peanut said, grabbing her hand and kissing it affectionately. “This guy here doesn’t seem half bad. Maybe you take her out on a date?”

  “I don’t deserve her,” Dallas chuckled.

  “And I’m engaged,” Genie said, swatting at Peanut and showing a tiny, almost invisible diamond.

  “Oh yeah, yeah. That’s right. Bill. He’s a mailman. Irish. As exciting as two dead dogs fighting.”

  “He’s the one,” Genie announced, rolling her eyes. “We all find the right one. You will too, I’m sure.” She pointed at Dallas and smiled.

  “Maybe.” Dallas shrugged, laying his napkin across his lap and getting ready to dig in. His phone chirped, and he instantly thought of Harlan. Would it be a funny text, a silly picture of her and the girls baking, or more like burning, some cookies.

  Lilly: Your friend stayed the night but left in a hurry this morning. He’s not planning on coming back. Sorry.

  Dallas tucked his phone away as more plates came down in front of him. Genie had created a practical buffet and while he couldn’t bring back her father, he could pay some homage by eating his recipes.

  “Even if you don’t believe in love,” Genie teased, “you’ll have a deep and ardent affection for that calamari.”

  “I have no doubt,” Dallas said, scooping a heaping pile onto his plate. “If I ever do decide love’s not so bad, I’ll bring her here so you can tell me I told you so.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” Genie warned. “I could change the menu.”

  After taking a taste of each dish, Dallas shook his head. “Don’t change a damn thing.”

  Chapter 16

  Harlan’s phone was clutched in her hand when Dallas came through the door. There was a faraway look on her face, the kind that only comes when your thoughts transcend the moment and carry you far away.

  “What’s the matter?” Dallas asked, feeling the urge to hold her and make whatever it was better.

  “Rylie called,” she sighed. “I already know he didn’t stay in the rehab. He’s not going to get help. Not right now anyway.”

  “What I said yesterday,” Dallas choked out, “was way out of line. It’s not a reflection of how he feels about the girls. It’s a disease, and people need to find their own way through it.” He was by her side, a hand on her back as she tucked her phone away.

  “Mathew is coming up from Texas in the morning,” she explained, leaning ever so slightly into him. “He and his girlfriend, Jessica, are going to take the girls to Cliver Island for the weekend. He’s going to coordinate security with Emmitt. The Island is isolated, and I don’t think they’ll have much trouble securing it.”

  “And you’re not going?” Dallas asked, practically seeing the pain wringing her out like wet laundry.

  “They’ll have more fun without me right now,” Harlan explained, shaking her head. “They love Mathew and Jessica. It’ll be nice for them to have some fun with family and not have a mommy around who’s barely holding it together.”

  “You’re holding it together just fine,” he assured her, sweeping her hair out of her face. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

  “I want to do something,” she declared, banging a hand down on the kitchen counter. “I want to lock myself in the room and do something to help Tim. If I’ve got a couple of days without the girls, I need to be busy. I just need to do something that feels worthwhile.”

  “I did come up with some more information about Angus today. I talked to his daughter at the restaurant. She didn’t know much, but there was a guy named Peanut—”

  “A guy named Peanut?” Harlan interrupted, and Dallas felt a rush in his chest at the return of her smile.

  �
��Yes, and the only thing more amusing than his name was his mustache. He had a lot to say about Angus being the victim of a protection ring. I didn’t get the details. I didn’t want to press my luck. But it’s more leads to chase down.”

  “I’m sure I’ll slow you down,” Harlan apologized, busying herself with the removal of cookie crumbs from the counter. “Don’t feel obligated to keep me busy.”

  Dallas could think of a thousand ways to pass time with Harlan. The fantasies ranged from something as simple as a drink by the beach, to rolling in the sand, and throwing her bathing suit into the waves.

  “This was your idea,” he countered. “I had been so close to the case, so caught up in proving Tim didn’t do this that I had tunnel vision. It’s about the worst thing a cop can do. Your idea sparked something I’d been neglecting. It’s why cops have partners.”

  “Are you saying I’m like an honorary police officer? Did you just deputize me or something?” The flutter in her happy eyes made him feel a sense of possibility he hadn’t in a long while.

  “I’m not even on the force anymore,” he sighed, knowing his face sank at that reminder. Becoming a police officer had made him the man he’d always wanted to be. Tim’s arrest and his determination to get him exonerated took all that from him. It was still worth it, but tearing his badge out of his hands, they’d taken a chunk of him with it. “But there are all kinds of partners. We can be private investigators. At least for the next few days. Melissa is sending over every scrap of paper associated with the original trial along with what she’ll need for the next appeal.”

  “My mother’s friend Marigold is coming over,” Harlan explained, her eyes darting away anxiously.

  “Marigold?”

  “Don’t worry,” Harlan smirked. “She’s been fully vetted by security. She’s a sixty-five-year-old former beauty queen, and they’ve been friends for fifty years. When my mom has . . .” She paused, searching for the right word. “My mom is worried about Rylie and still has trouble believing the girls and I are safe after what happened with my father. Sometimes that boils up, and she goes into overload. Marigold is the perfect person to be with her right now. My brother will have the girls, Mom will have her friend, and you and I . . .” she trailed off as though finishing the sentence with what was really on her mind would be mortifying.