Risk (It's Complicated Book 2)

by Ann Christopher

  “This won’t take long,” V.J. said, hot on his heels.

  Cursing, Justus went into his office, leaned a hip on the side of his desk, and watched while V.J. slammed the door.

  “What’s the problem, man?”

  “Where were you last night?” V.J. barked.

  Justus picked up a file from his desk and rifled through it, seeing nothing. “Eating dinner. Why?”

  “We were counting on you to come for Pop’s birthday dinner.”

  Justus shot him a quick glance. “Why would you do that? I told Carolyn I wouldn’t be there.”

  V.J. snatched the file and tossed it to the desk. “How long are you gonna keep up this wounded son routine? How many more birthdays do you think he’s got left? His heart’s—”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. The old man’s heart’s been acting up for years, and he’s still the same as—”

  “He’s not! He’s sick!” V.J. roared.

  That shut Justus up. He couldn’t ever remember seeing V.J. so pissed off before.

  “No one lives forever!” A vein began to throb in V.J.’s temple, startling Justus even further. “How many chances do you think you’re gonna get, man?”

  Planting his hands on the desk, Justus hung his head for a moment and collected his thoughts. He had no intention of falling for his brother’s little guilt trip, although the temptation was definitely there.

  “Cut the drama. He enjoyed his birthday more without me. Trust me.”

  V.J. looked to the ceiling, maybe hoping to see instructions for dealing with Justus scrawled on the white paint.

  “If Mama were here—”

  As usual, a sharp bolt of pain sliced through Justus’s chest at the mention of his mother.

  “Don’t bring her into this,” he warned softly.

  V.J. seemed to realize he’d gone too far and took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to regret this one day. That’s all.”

  The beseeching note in his brother’s voice was hard to resist, as was the faint glimmer of hope in V.J.’s expression.

  Dammit.

  Justus heaved a harsh sigh.

  No one spoke.

  Finally V.J. cleared his throat. “Maya’s been asking about you.”

  Justus’s heart swelled at the mention of the little angel—the clear love of his life thus far—and all his anger instantly evaporated.

  “Tell her I’ll be by tomorrow to take her for lunch at the mall. She liked that last time.”

  Relaxing, he dropped into his high-backed leather chair and swung his feet onto the desk.

  V.J. settled onto the edge of the desk. “Just don’t let her talk you into buying her another one of those stupid makeup kits. Those things make a big mess.”

  “You got it.”

  More silence.

  Now that the storm had passed, Justus’s mind veered back to Angela, where it’d been since he saw her last night, and his heart rate kicked up several notches. Fingering his cup of pens, he strove for a detached, clinical tone.

  “I saw your sister-in-law with some guy last night at dinner. She seemed pretty upset.”

  V.J.’s expression soured. “You must have seen the fireworks. Her jackass boyfriend dumped her. I think she thought he’d give her a ring at Christmas.”

  “Hmmm,” Justus said, his thoughts spinning. So that was what’d happened. “Who is this punk?”

  “An internist over at University. We never knew what Angela saw in him.”

  “Huh.”

  Justus meant to drop it, but something in his tone or on his face must have alerted V.J., because his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “Why do you ask?” he asked sharply.

  “No reason,” Justus said with as much nonchalance as he could muster, which was about a microgram.

  V.J., who had an annoying sixth sense bordering on omniscience where Justus was concerned, gaped at him.

  “Oh, hell no.” He jabbed a finger in Justus’s face. “Don’t even think about it. She’s just been dumped and she doesn’t need you trying to get in her panties.”

  Justus felt his blood start another slow boil. V.J. acted like he was the Jack the Ripper. He had a rich history with women, true, but he didn’t deserve the look V.J. was giving him.

  “I don’t see what the problem is. We’re both grown-ups.”

  “Angela isn’t one of your little hoochies, Justus!” V.J. roared. “She’s a great woman and she’s vulnerable right now! What the hell am I gonna tell my wife if you try to fuck her sister?”

  Justus seethed in silence, unable to think of a single thing to say in his own defense.

  V.J. was right, of course.

  His intentions weren’t exactly honorable.

  He’d never believed in fate, but fate or something like it had dropped Angela back into his life, and he planned to take full advantage of this opportunity.

  Because he wanted her. Still wanted her. He’d thought about her a lot over the years, wondering what she was doing and whether he’d imagined how beautiful and sexy she was. Well, now he knew. She was, if anything, more stunning than he’d remembered. And she still felt right in his arms—her little gratitude hug and kiss last night had proved that.

  So even though he felt bad she’d had her heart broken, he planned to make the most of the situation. He would be gentle and patient, and do the romance thing if she wanted. Or he could just go straight to being her rebound fling. But either way, he planned to get Angela Dennis into his bed and keep her there for a while. Because ten years ago he’d promised himself one day he would make love to her, and it was time to collect.

  V.J. stared thoughtfully at him, then flashed a smug smile that made Justus want to punch several of his teeth out.

  “What?”

  “On second thought,” V.J. said, “I’m not going to worry about it. You know why? Because you’re not her type, my brother. In fact, I have a better chance of shitting gold bullion than you do of seducing Angela.”

  “We’ll see,” Justus said through clenched teeth.

  Laughing, V.J. opened the door and walked out. “I can’t wait.”

  Justus grabbed a fluffy white towel from the top of his file cabinet and hurled it. “Punk!”

  The towel caught V.J. squarely on the back of the head but, without missing a beat, he kicked it aside and disappeared down the hall.

  And that was the last time Justus ever saw his brother alive.

  It’s not true. There’s been a mistake. God would never do this.

  The words looped through Angela’s head as she shuffled, exhausted, back into her darkened apartment that evening.

  It’s not true. There’s been a mistake. God would never do this.

  She flicked on a light and saw that nothing there had changed in the two hours since she’d been at the hospital.

  Since she’d answered the phone. Why had she answered the phone? Maybe if she hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

  Ms. Dennis? I’m so sorry...There’s been an accident...

  Two hours had passed, and now life as she’d known it was over.

  Two hours.

  Her throat and chest burned with tightness, suffocating her. Her head pounded. Even her bones felt like they were screaming.

  Would she pass out from her broken heart? God, she hoped so. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with this pain, at least for a few minutes.

  But then she felt a movement beside her, and she remembered. God hadn’t taken everything after all. She wasn’t alone, nor was she the only one who suffered right now. Someone else had lost far more than she had tonight.

  “Come on, Maya. Let’s have a seat.”

  She took her niece’s tiny, soft hand and led her to the sofa, praying for strength with each step she took. She could do this. She would do this. She had to. For Carolyn. She would not cry, and she would not shout at God. There was plenty of time for falling apart later. Right now, she had to break her three-and-a-half-year-old niece’s heart and tell
her that both of her parents were dead.

  And yet...how could she?

  Maya looked so tiny. So vulnerable and forlorn in her puffy pink jacket with dangling purple mittens. In her other hand she clutched a floppy stuffed animal. A dog, maybe. Thank goodness the poor child had one small bit of comfort to hold on to.

  They got settled, whereupon Angela’s guilt took over, shoving her grief aside.

  When had she last seen Maya? When was the last time she’d spent more than three minutes talking to Maya when she did see her? She stretched her memory as far back as it could go, and still no answers were in sight. Carolyn had been right earlier, hadn’t she? Angela had spent her life being busy with work and figuring there was plenty of time for getting together with her family next weekend, or the weekend after that.

  What a joke.

  Focus, Angela.

  She tried to think.

  Did Maya know about death? Did she believe in heaven? How much should Angela tell her?

  Maya stared at her, waiting patiently, her huge brown eyes wise and wide in the little chipmunk face that looked so much like Carolyn’s.

  A single ray of sunshine dawned in Angela’s heart. No, God hadn’t taken everything, after all. She still had Maya.

  She really was adorable. Carolyn had braided her long, wavy black hair in two ponytails on each side of her head, with colorful, beaded rubber bands at the top and bottom of each braid. So cute.

  But then another wave of sorrow washed over Angela.

  Carolyn was gone forever and tomorrow Angela would have to braid all that hair.

  Angela felt her lips begin to quiver again. Pressing them tightly together, she tried to smile. “You’ve had a rough night, haven’t you?”

  Tears shone in Maya’s eyes. “That deer ran into the car. It hit Mommy and Daddy.”

  Nodding, Angela dipped her head and swiped a tear. “I know.”

  Miracles did happen, didn’t they? How else could Maya have survived, unscathed, in the back seat of Carolyn and V.J.’s minivan, when a ten-point buck had mangled the vehicle’s front end beyond recognition?

  Maya’s pouty little mouth twisted and her brow furrowed as she tried to understand the incomprehensible. She raised her dog and, hugging him, pressed him to her lips, clearly struggling not to cry.

  “Are they in heaven?”

  Angela’s neck and chest tightened to the point of agony, choking the word off in her throat. God, she didn’t want to be the one to tell this child her parents were dead. She’d give anything if the earth would just open up and swallow her whole so she didn’t have to deliver this news. Buying time, she cupped the side of Maya’s face, rubbing her thumb over a satiny, chubby cheek. Then she caught one her long braids and smoothed it.

  “Yes,” she finally said.

  Maya whimpered softly and tears ran down her face behind the dog. She lifted him and used his furry brown head to wipe her eyes. “Are they with Grandma and Grandpa?”

  The question was Angela’s undoing.

  She took a fresh tissue out of her pocket and, covering her mouth with it, wept quietly.

  She should have known Carolyn would tell Maya about her grandparents, even though they’d died long before she was born. And of course Carolyn would have also told her about heaven.

  Recovering, she tried to smile. “Yes. They’re all together now, and I think they’re happy. And I think they’re watching over us. And they’ll always be in our hearts, so we’ll never forget them, will we?”

  Maya just blinked at her, looking vaguely reproachful, as if she was offended Angela expected her to buy such a load of BS.

  “I want to go to bed now.”

  “Oh,” Angela said, surprised. “Okay. Let’s get you a bath first. How would that be?”

  Maya didn’t answer, but she obligingly stood and walked with Angela down the hall to the bathroom. Angela turned on the taps, then opened the medicine cabinet to see if she had an extra toothbrush for Maya.

  The sight of Ronnie’s red toothbrush in its cup froze Angela in her tracks. The blind fury she’d repressed until now surged back, pulling every muscle in her body taut.

  She’d seen the bastard tonight in the hospital parking lot.

  As she’d walked to her car with her orphaned niece...as she’d tried to absorb the knowledge that her sister and brother-in-law had been killed in their prime of life...as she’d wondered what the hell she was going to do...she’d looked up and seen him, the man she’d thought she’d marry, standing fifty feet away.

  She’d seen them, actually.

  Ronnie and the woman he’d dumped Angela for, kissing by Ronnie’s car, twined around each other like the strands of a rope.

  With a silent curse, she hurled Ronnie’s toothbrush into the trashcan.

  After a quick bath and a glass of milk, Maya went willingly to bed with her dog snuggled under her arm. Angela made up the double bed in the guest bedroom/office/exercise room for her and she fell asleep before Angela flipped the wall light switch. She left a small lamp burning on her desk in case Maya was afraid of the dark. The soft, even sound of the girl’s breathing reminded Angela she wasn’t entirely alone in the universe, after all. One other member of her family was still alive, and she was grateful.

  Shutting the door behind her, Angela shuffled, exhausted, back out to the living room, wishing she could as easily put this nightmarish day behind her. She glanced at her watch: ten fifteen. There was no way she would sleep tonight.

  So...what now?

  She wandered into her walk-in closet, took off her shoes, lined them up in their slot at the end of the row on the floor, and tried to decide what to do next. Shower now, or wait? Start calling their mutual friends and distant relatives to give them the grim news? Maybe she should start with Vincent and Justus. Or would they have been V.J.’s in case of emergency contacts on his phone? Maybe the hospital already contacted them...? God only knew. She’d been too stunned and determined to get Maya out of there to ask.

  And how light a sleeper was Maya? Would she wake up if Angela got on the phone and started—

  Knock-knock-knock.

  She looked around, startled. Who the hell could that be?

  Quickly retracing her footsteps, she checked the peephole.

  Justus.

  Her heart soared.

  Someone from the hospital had called him. She swung the door open and stared at him for a long, charged moment. Big surprise: he looked wrecked. Strained face; bloodshot eyes; red nose; flaring nostrils. He seemed to have aged twenty years since she saw him last night.

  At the sight of her, the edges of his lips turned up in the beginnings of a rueful smile and he opened his arms. With a cry, she threw herself at him, grateful to be with someone who could share her pain and help her through this long, dark night. His heavy, muscular arms clamped tight around her and she hung on tighter. His hands sifted through her hair before rubbing roughly over her shoulders and back as if he needed to make sure that she, at least, was still in one piece.

  The same urge overcame her.

  She clawed her way closer to him, fingers digging into his back and shoulders, reveling in his warmth and unyielding strength.

  “Justus.” Sobs overtook her, nearly choking the words off in her throat. “What are we going to do?”

  His hands gentled, soothing her. “Shhh. It’ll be okay,” he said hoarsely. “Everything’ll be okay.”

  Still holding her, he backed her inside the door and shut it behind them.

  “Where is she?” he whispered.

  “Asleep. In the guest bedroom.”

  “Show me.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say he’d have to see Maya tomorrow because Angela didn’t want to risk waking her up, but one look at his determined face told her that would be a waste of time. So she led him down the dark hall—she’d have to remember to get a night-light in case Maya had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night—and cracked open the door.

  J
ustus hovered on the threshold, then sat on the enormous bed, which seemed like a soccer field compared to Maya’s tiny form. At first he just stroked her little cheek, but then he made a strangled sound from deep in his throat and picked her up, pulling her out from under the blankets and into his lap. The white T-shirt Angela had given Maya to sleep in rode up over her short, sturdy legs, and her head fell limply back over his arm, but she didn’t wake. Justus kissed her forehead and rocked back and forth, murmuring unintelligibly.

  Angela wondered if she should give him a little privacy, but her feet were suddenly rooted to the floor and she couldn’t look away as he kissed Maya one last time.

  “I’ll take care of you, baby girl.” He gently laid her back down and arranged the blankets and the dog around her. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  He got up. Swiping his hand under his eyes and nose, he brushed past Angela again and went back to the foyer.

  Angela trailed after him, too moved to speak. At the front door he paused, and when he took her hands it felt natural and right.

  It killed her to admit to a weakness, even tonight, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with Maya.

  “Don’t go,” she said, squeezing his hands. “You can sleep on the couch. And Maya will want to see you when she wakes up.”

  Regret filled his dark eyes. “I have to go tell my father. I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

  She didn’t envy him that awful task, but he had to do it, so she let go of his strong hands.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back first thing in the morning. We’ve got a lot of arrangements to make.”

  She nodded.

  He hesitated, then pressed a warm, hard kiss to her forehead. “We’ll get through this, Angela.”

  She nodded again even though she didn’t believe him for a second.

  At eleven o’clock that night, Justus pulled past the tall English-ivy-covered brick wall and into the driveway of his father’s house, turned off the engine and headlights, and stared at the place.

  Home again.

  Not.

  He’d never thought of the structure as home any more than a person could consider the Louvre home. Brian’s childhood house, half as big as this one and nowhere near as grand, with its slightly rumpled great room, where hockey sticks leaned in the corners, floor pillows invited people to settle in and stay for a while, and children could accidentally leave smudges on the walls without threat of immediate and severe sanctions, now that was home.