by Calista Fox
“Mushy’s fine, darlin’,” Sam assured her. “I’m a bit torn up and Michael is ready to spit nails.”
“Hey, I’ve been perfectly cool,” Michael insisted through clenched teeth because he was still worked up.
Sam snorted. “There’s murder in your eyes and your jaw hasn’t loosened since Kalispell. Probably not since New York.”
Michael tried to school his features to not be so stony. He hadn’t realized he’d been wearing his emotions on his face—thought he was doing a much better job of dealing with the situation.
Well, it wasn’t much of a surprise, really. He was upset about Scarlet. Couldn’t wait to see her. And was so damn glad she wasn’t worse off.
Was alive.
“I’ve got some paperwork to sign,” she told them. “So I’ll see you when you get here. Room two-sixteen.”
“We’ll be there in ten,” Sam said before hanging up.
“I’m impressed as well,” Jewel mused with a knowing look on her pretty face and a twinkle in her sapphire eyes. “Clearly, they couldn’t get here fast enough. And when I spoke with Sam last night, he was severely on edge. Those two are deeply concerned about your health and well-being. Very into you, girlfriend.”
Scarlet nodded, despite the pounding in her head, above her right eye where there’d been a huge gash to stitch closed. She said, “I’m so glad they came. I just want to be in their arms right now. Especially Sam. That must have been pure hell for him to be on the line when I crashed. I mean, how horrific to relive that epic disaster in his life, having absolutely no control over what was happening to me, no ability to save me. Or even have the chance to try.”
“I imagine he hasn’t had a moment of peace since your Range Rover flipped. And won’t until he sees for himself that you’re okay. Well, relatively speaking. You are a little ghostly.”
“Thanks for washing most of the blood out of my hair with the towel. Now I need some makeup. One of the police officers who responded to the call retrieved my stuff from my car and brought it all by. Josh Larkin from high school. Remember him? Anyway, there’s makeup in my purse. Oh, and I told Josh I caught the first three letters of the license plate as it whizzed by. White SUV. Maybe an Explorer.”
Jewel’s brow lifted.
“What?” Scarlet asked. “Am I too scatterbrained? All over the place?”
“Not so much. Well, yeah, a little. It just makes my mind reel that you’re in some terrifying situation and yet it doesn’t escape you to collect clues along the way.”
“Well, I am a trained professional.”
“True.” Jewel shrugged. “Anyway, hopefully Josh will come up with some answers as to who our hit-and-run a-hole is.”
“Fingers crossed.” Scarlet used her cosmetics to cover up some of the paleness to her skin, though there wasn’t much she could do to chase away the tumult in her eyes. Not just because her nerves were still a bit jangled over her ordeal but also because she was so worried about Sam.
Who basically barreled through the door moments later.
He very gingerly clasped Scarlet’s biceps and stared intently at her, as though needing to ensure it was really her, that she’d survived. Then he carefully hugged her.
While she was sore from the rollover, she wished like hell he wouldn’t be so tentative. But that was how Sam was. Soft voice, tender touch for the bruised and battered. The sweetest of sweet.
And it was hugely comforting to be in his arms. She closed her eyes and just gave herself over to his quiet strength and the feeling of being engulfed by him. She let him hold her for as long as he needed.
Across the room, she heard Michael introduce himself to Jewel. That seemed to bring Sam around and he reluctantly released Scarlet so that Michael could have his turn with her. She walked into his embrace.
As he stroked her hair, he whispered, “You scared the hell out of us.”
“Not intentional. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” He kissed her temple.
“I’d apologize about you having to drop everything and come all this way, but I’m so happy to see you. I needed to see you both.”
Admittedly, her own sentiment caught her off-guard. Scarlet had been full throttle since her parents’ deaths. She’d flirted with danger every chance she got. But there was something about being on the phone with Sam when the accident happened and Michael being all the way across the country that caused her to think far beyond herself. She really had scared them. Because they cared about her. Because they were the type of men who’d want to protect her—and her lifestyle actually did put her in crosshairs from time to time.
Glancing over her shoulder, she told Sam, “I wasn’t being reckless last night. It was a two-lane road and there wasn’t much space to pull off to the side.”
“I believe you.”
“I wouldn’t purposely make you worry about me,” she said.
“You were just driving home from dinner,” Jewel reminded her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Right.” Scarlet untangled herself from Michael and tried to gain a little composure. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue, then said, “I appreciate everyone’s concern.”
“You should definitely take it easy today,” Jewel told her. “Feet up. Let these guys look after you. And of course, if you need anything from me, do not hesitate to call.”
“I won’t. I’ll be good,” Scarlet promised, her heart aching over having terrified everyone.
Jewel told the men it was good to meet them and then departed. Sam was collecting Scarlet’s belongings when Josh walked in.
She said to Sam and Michael, “This is Officer Larkin. He and I go way back. He was on the scene last night.”
They all shook. Josh told her, “You cracked the case for us, Scarlet. We have your hit-and-run driver, thanks to the information you provided. He thought he’d pull a Houdini by ditching the vehicle he used to smash into you. It was a rental. Only had it for the day, which lead us to the airport here in town, but the SFPD got involved as well and detained him at San Francisco International. They were able to connect with TSA in time so that someone checking IDs and boarding passes could tip them off when our perp went through security for a red-eye flight. Naturally, he claims he’s not the Dylan Reed we’re all looking for, but the guy’s got a rap sheet a mile—”
“Dylan Reed?” Scarlet, Sam, and Michael all said in shocked unison.
Scarlet’s gaze snapped to Michael, who gave her a pointed look, appearing as though he wanted to rip someone’s head off. Sam’s brother’s head, to be exact.
Her gaze shifted to Sam. His eyes darkened.
“My father?” he ventured aloud. “Did he and my mother secretly marry all those years ago and she never told me Reed isn’t her maiden name? Or is this just some bizarre coincidence?”
Scarlet did not take Sam Reed for being the type to buy into coincidences of this caliber. So her moment of reckoning was upon her.
“It’s not your father,” she quietly said. “No coincidence, either. It’s your brother, Sam. Dylan Reed is your brother. Your twin, in fact.”
Sam’s mouth worked as though he had something to say, but no words came out.
Scarlet rushed on. “I was going to tell you. This weekend. In Montana.” She shot Michael a look and he nodded in confirmation to back her up.
Sam’s brow furrowed as his eyes landed on Michael. “You knew about this?”
“Scarlet was upset over discovering your long-lost family members and she confided in me. Asked for my advice.”
“Discovering?” Sam said the word with a hint of accusation.
Scarlet wouldn’t lie. “Yes, I snooped. Or, rather, I had Bay do it. See, I had this insatiable need to gather every piece of this puzzle, because I’m coming up with nada in solving the art theft. But it was more than that. I wanted to know more about you, Sam. And what I learned was that your father is a criminal serving time in Arizona. Your brother’s been incarcerated as well.”
“Add in deadly conduct,” Michael said in a surly tone. “He intentionally ran Scarlet off the road.”
“Wait.” Sam raised his hand to stop the litany. “First things first. Why would he run Scarlet off the road on purpose?”
“Oh, that.” She let out a long stream of air. “Best guess is that he took the directive from his father. His name is Wyatt Hill. I went to see him in prison. Very brief visit. Pretty much told me to fuck off when I mentioned the art theft.”
Sam stared at her. His Adam’s apple worked as he processed all of this. Then he slowly said, “You think my dad and my brother were in on the heist?”
“I didn’t have a strong gauge of the situation going into it,” she confessed. “I just wanted to talk to Wyatt. Read the barometer where he and Karina were concerned.”
Sam rubbed his nape in obvious consternation. “And you struck a nerve. Because you’re on to something?”
“Could be. Dylan’s move says a hell of a lot, don’t you think?”
Sam’s eyes remained stormy. “My twin brother could have killed you.”
“Don’t go on a guilt trip,” she urged. “You didn’t even know he existed until five minutes ago, and his actions aren’t your responsibility, even if they involve me.”
Michael stepped closer and he gripped Sam’s shoulder. “Man, what happened to Scarlet isn’t for you to take on emotionally.”
Sam’s jaw clenched.
Scarlet said, “There are consequences to my grilling people, Sam. I get in their business and sometimes they push back.”
“When they’ve got something to hide,” he ground out.
“That’s usually the way it works,” she agreed.
“Fuck!” His hands fisted and he appeared as though he wanted to slam them into the wall.
Michael said, “We don’t have anything conclusive here. Why don’t we all bring this down a notch? Get Scarlet home so she can rest. And eat.”
“I am currently commiserating with migraine sufferers the world over,” she said.
“Jesus.” Sam’s angst clearly multiplied. “Yes, let’s go.”
She turned to Josh. “Anything else you need from me right now?”
“You didn’t get a glance at the driver, so no. But you have been a huge help. I hope you’re feeling better soon.”
She gave her old friend a quick hug. “Thanks for following up on my lead.”
“Thanks for providing it.”
Scarlet left the hospital with Michael and Sam. She directed them to the house she shared with her gran. Michael set her up in the living room with pillows and a blanket on the sofa. Built a fire. Sam went into the kitchen and it wasn’t long before mouthwatering scents wafted from that direction.
Her stomach growled. Michael chuckled.
“Hey,” she playfully snapped, “I live a very active life. I require sustenance.”
He leaned in from his perch on the edge of the sturdy coffee table and kissed her. “I’m just teasing you.”
“I know.” She smiled.
“Ah, finally. I’ve been waiting for that.”
With a shrug, she said, “I brought this on myself. But I do appreciate that you and Sam are here. How do you think he’s doing?”
“We’ll get the answer to that when breakfast is ready. If it’s just eggs and sausage, I’d say he’s dealing. If it’s a massive feast to rival brunch at The Dorchester, then he’s really fucked up in the head. And in the heart.”
She sniffed the air and frowned. “I smell vanilla-laced French toast.”
“Damn.”
Now Scarlet’s stomach churned—and not from hunger. “I can’t believe how twisted this has all become.”
“I feel the same.” He swept away strands of hair from her cheek. “I want to know what the hell happened to that art collection and why there are so many layers to penetrate.”
She eyed him quizzically. “You told me the night we met that you didn’t give a rip about what happened to the paintings.”
Michael grimaced. “That was a self-serving response. I didn’t give Karina the full benefit of the doubt back then. I didn’t want to believe that she really loved my father. That it was all real.”
“But you believe her now?”
“I can see where her complications are legit. I can say my ambivalence toward her didn’t help the situation. And it’s evident my father honestly feels as strongly for her as she does for him. I suspect it’s not the same as his relationship with my mother. A few weeks ago I didn’t fully grasp that concept. But the way everything’s unfolding with you, me, and Sam … I have a better acceptance of how things fell into place.”
Scarlet nodded. Then said, “I need to go back to New York. Speak with Karina again.”
“You’re in no condition to travel, sweetheart.”
She really couldn’t dispute that. Nor could she shut down her mind as it whirled with more questions. “Sam told Jewel when she phoned him that you were picking him up in your Learjet. It’ll be a quicker flight than commercial back to New York, with no airport tedium. I can survive that.”
“Scarlet—”
“You don’t think Sam’s going to have a million questions himself?” She pinned Michael with a serious look. “Questions I can’t answer. Only Karina can.”
Michael stood. He paced in front of the fireplace with his hands on his waist. “The guy’s getting the shit kicked out of him these days.”
“Yes. And I feel wretched about that. I want to be there with him when he gets the full story. You should be there, too. It’s obvious you both provide support for each other. He’s going to need it.”
“Sam can take care of himself.” Scarlet’s gaze flashed to the mountain of a man standing in the archway that led to the kitchen. Sam’s arms were crossed over his chest. His expression was impassive. Yet he added, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want the company.”
Scarlet drew in an unsteady breath and asked, “Including me?”
“Including you. Breakfast is ready.” He returned to the kitchen.
Scarlet exchanged a look with Michael. He said, “Guess we’re going to New York.”
TWENTY-ONE
Sam had never really considered his mother a keeper of secrets, but she was certainly racking them up.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about this latest one. Without doubt, she had every right to make a decision to keep a child or give him away. And Sam could wholeheartedly comprehend the difficulty with being a young, financially strapped single parent of two newborns. He knew his mother hadn’t had much of a familial support group—Sam’s grandparents had pretty much carved Karina out of their lives when she’d come home pregnant her senior year of high school. She’d told Sam that they couldn’t have the “devil’s mistress” living under their roof and kicked her out.
Sam knew very little about George and Sally Reed. Only that they’d never changed their minds about having contact with their daughter. Or him. Perhaps that life lesson was why he’d never sought out the identity of his father. The guy had blown town. Didn’t want to have anything to do with Sam or Karina. In Sam’s opinion that meant they shouldn’t want to have anything to do with him. If being part of a family wasn’t what Wyatt Hill wanted, then it was best not to have the man pretending otherwise.
But Sam had already reconciled that situation in his head. What troubled him now was that he had a brother. Yet as he spared a glance at Michael, sitting in one of the single seats facing the sofa in the back of the plane where Sam and Scarlet were settled, Sam knew that Dylan might be his blood relative, but he wasn’t a true brother. The asshole had gone after Scarlet because she’d confronted Wyatt in prison.
Scarlet had broken it all down for Sam and Michael during the flight. She’d ID’d herself to Wyatt and had told him she was an insurance fraud investigator. All Wyatt had to do afte
r he walked out on her visit was place a call to Dylan to look her up, track her down, and run her off the road.
Again, it wasn’t the how? that chipped away at Sam. It was the why?
What were those two up to … and was his mother involved? Had she been in contact with Wyatt over the years? Dylan, too? Did she know that Wyatt would likely have an electronic Rolodex filled with the names of shady characters who would lend her money for her gambling debt? Is that how she’d found someone to bankroll her addiction?
Tension seized Sam. His shoulders were squared, every muscle pulled taut.
But it wasn’t just the speculation over what his father and brother might be up to that had Sam disconcerted. It was that Scarlet was involved.
He covered her hands with one of his as they lay in her lap and told her, “I’m the one who has to apologize now.”
“No,” she quickly said. “Not at all.”
“Scarlet, what happened to you is—”
“Not your fault by any stretch of the imagination.” She glanced at Michael. “Yours, either.” Returning her attention to Sam, she said, “No one invited me into this investigation. I willingly—and enthusiastically—took on the assignment. Therefore, I have to accept the potential hazards inherent to it. I don’t carry a weapon and practice Krav Maga for nothing. This actually can be a very dangerous business. That’s a reality I’m fully aware of and assent to. I’m responsible for my own actions, Sam. I chose to travel this path.”
Sam scowled, his frustration burning brighter because he couldn’t pace or otherwise work off some of his angst.
Michael said, “She does make a good point. I’m not saying I fully agree with it—I get where you’re coming from, Sam, why you’re so upset.”
“You’re upset, too,” Sam contended, wanting Michael to stop feeling as though he had to be the levelheaded voice of reason when it was so obvious that he was as tormented by what had happened to Scarlet—by how much worse that car accident could have been—as Sam. “You don’t have to play it cool with me. Or with her.”
