by Day Leclaire
And he’d sensed how she’d felt. She’d seen it in the narrowing of his hard, brown eyes and the tightening of the fleshy mouth he’d twisted into a grimacing smile. “Miz Becca,” he’d greeted her. His gaze had swept over her and his smile had pulled wider. “Don’t you look the picture.”
“Thanks, Cornelius.” She lifted an eyebrow. “If you’ll excuse me?”
He’d kept standing there, a knowing look in his eyes, before he’d fallen back a scant step. “Of course, your ladyship. Didn’t mean for the hired help to get in your way. Don’t want to lose my job the way the Montoyas did. Though it would be a sweet way to go.”
Her uncontrollable outrage had only deepened his amusement. “I’m sure my father will be interested in your opinion,” she shot back. “I’ll be certain to share it with him.”
“Feel free. Won’t make a lick of difference.” He bent toward her and she couldn’t help herself. She turned her head to the side, revealing a vulnerability she’d have preferred to keep hidden. “I’m here to stay, missy. Your father won’t dare let me go.”
“And then, of course, there’s the discrepancy with the club accounts. That’s caused an absolute furor among the boys,” Kate was saying.
Rebecca came to with a start. “What was that? What discrepancy are you talking about?”
“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?” Kate asked in exasperation.
“Most of them.” She offered an apologetic smile. “Some of them.”
Kate sighed. “Darius noticed discrepancies in the TCC accounts when he did the billing for the Helping Hands women’s shelter. Mitch agreed to do a fact-finding audit with Darius, Justin and Alex. Apparently, something’s up. At least that’s what Lance told me.”
“But surely Dad—” She broke off, her nervousness increasing. She cleared her throat. “I wonder why Dad didn’t catch the problem? He’s been the club treasurer for years.”
Kate shrugged. “Maybe it’s a recent problem that your father hasn’t noticed. It’s probably some sort of glitch with funds going into the wrong accounts. I’m sure Mitch will get it straightened out.”
Rebecca spared another glance over her shoulder. The six men had disappeared into one of the meeting rooms with the door firmly shut. More than anything she wished she could be a fly on the wall and find out just what the devil was going on. In the meantime, she could only pray her father wasn’t unwittingly involved.
It didn’t make sense that her father would have anything to do with the fires, but the irregularities of TCC accounts…That might be a different story. Hopefully, it really was a glitch and nothing that would pit her father against her friends. And then there was Alex. He despised her father. If a mistake had been made with the financial records, Alex wouldn’t spare him. He’d do anything and everything to ruin her father’s reputation.
Alex fixed his gaze on the five men, several of whom had, during his formative years, done their best to make his life a living hell. They stood together in a united front on one side of the room while he planted himself opposite them. Despite the animosity between them, he planned on enjoying the sweetness of his vindication today. Not only would he have the means to bring down an old enemy, but he’d be able to figuratively plant his fist in the face of the worst of the “frat brats” and his key nemesis, Lance Brody.
“Are we going to stand around and stare at each other?” he asked. “Or are we going to start offering apologies?”
“Sure, feel free to apologize, Montoya,” Lance said with a grin that didn’t come close to reaching his dark eyes. “I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you to apologize for your existence.”
Alex took a swift step in his direction, only to be cut off by Darius who crossed the breach and held up a hand. “Easy man,” he said in an undertone. “This won’t solve anything.”
“Maybe not, but it would make me feel a hell of a lot better.”
Alex could hear his accent deepening, thickening, as it often did when he was angry or passionate. It only served to underscore the differences between them—differences in their cultures, their birthrights, their backgrounds. He was the son of a maid. And though some of the men present had worked for every dime they possessed, Justin Dupree and the Brody brothers had been born with silver spoons feeding them every elegant morsel they’d ever eaten. For the sake of his sister, Alicia, Alex would leave her brand new fiancé, Dupree, alone. In the past weeks the two men had established an uneasy accord. But as far as he was concerned, it was open season on the Brodys.
Alex addressed Lance. “You accused me of torching your refinery. Darius has evidence that proves you wrong. Are you man enough to finally admit it? Or do I need to beat the apology out of you?”
Amusement lined the other man’s face. “You can try. I guarantee you won’t succeed.”
“It will be interesting to test that theory.”
“Enough.” Kevin Novak cut them off impatiently. “This isn’t going to solve anything, and quite frankly, I’m tired of acting like we’re still in high school.” He turned his intense blue eyes on Alex. “We were wrong about you, and I for one would like to apologize.”
He offered his hand and Alex didn’t hesitate in taking it. “I appreciate it, Novak.”
Lance groaned. “Oh, for the love of—”
“Shut up, bro.” Mitch cut him off. “A dry well is a dry well. In our business, you have to know when to cut your losses. This is one of those times.”
One by one, each man followed Kevin’s example. Lance, the lone holdout, finally stepped forward and clasped Alex’s hand, as well. Considering Brody was built like a tank, he didn’t need to exert much pressure for Alex to feel the power behind his grip.
“I still don’t like you,” Lance said.
Alex inclined his head. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Lance’s mouth kicked up in one corner. “But I do respect you.”
The admission stunned Alex and it took him a second to reply. “I think we can both start from there and see where we end up.”
“Fair enough.”
“Now that we’re through with the warm and fuzzies, let’s get to work, shall we?” Darius suggested drily. He made a move toward the conference table and once everyone was seated, passed around copies of his report. “I need everyone here to understand that most of this is speculation. It’s solid speculation, but we don’t have enough to take to the cops. Yet. The one thing I can state categorically is that Alex is not responsible for the fire at Brody Oil and Gas. I have eyewitnesses and credit card receipts that place him well away from that location on the night of the blaze.”
“So, what do you have?” Lance asked.
Alex took over. “If we examine the timeline of events, what becomes clear is that there is an interesting order to these incidents. From what Mitch has been able to discover in his review of the books, money has been siphoned off to the tune of three hundred grand.”
Kevin emitted a low whistle. “How?”
“Just the way Darius thought. He’s been using a company with a name similar to Helping Hands. When an invoice comes in from the shelter, two checks are cut. One to the shelter and a second one to ‘Helping Hearts.’ Every last one of these checks was cashed at the same bank.” Alex eyed each man in turn. “And isn’t it interesting that a year ago—right before the first check went through—the president of that bank was approved as a brand-new member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
“Who put his name forward?” Lance asked.
“Sebastian Huntington.”
Lance winced. “Oh, Kate’s not going to like this. She and Rebecca are closer than sisters.”
“It’s our belief,” Darius picked up the story, “that Huntington had his foreman, Cornelius Gentry, set the fires in order to pit the six of us against each other to keep us distracted long enough for him to replace the funds. Since he’s the treasurer of TCC, he could tidy everything up so that no one was the wiser.”
“If we’d
remained distracted and fighting amongst ourselves,” Alex added.
“How did you connect Gentry to the fires?” Justin asked.
Alex eyed his future brother-in-law. “The same way I was let off the hook is the way Gentry was put on it. He drives a pickup similar to mine. And the idiot stopped for gas a mile away from the refinery—fifteen minutes after the place went up in flames.”
Darius shook his head in disgusted amusement. “Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, our Gentry.” He tapped one of the points in his report. “The police also found identical boot prints at both the refinery blaze, as well as Alex’s barn fire. Since they’re two sizes smaller than what Alex wears, that’s one more piece of evidence that points at someone other than Alex. If we can connect our man to those prints—and I think we can—we’ll have something we can use. Connect Gentry to the fires, put some pressure on him, and I think we’ll have Huntington.”
Lance swore. “I don’t like the man, I admit. He’s a pompous, arrogant SOB. But even so, he’s Rebecca’s father and I flat-out adore that woman.” He shot Alex a cold look. “Even if she doesn’t always show the best judgment in men.”
Alex tamped down on the fury sweeping through him. He didn’t want to think about Rebecca. Not here, in the presence of these men. He’d thought he could handle seeing Becca again, deal with emotions that shouldn’t still be edged with raw pain. But that combined with the animosity that lingered between him and the men in the room with him set his blood boiling. It wasn’t just the Brodys’ treatment of him during high school and the rivalry he and Lance had experienced on the soccer field. They’d made their disapproval keenly felt when he’d dated Rebecca in college. And when their affair had ended, they’d closed ranks and made his life a living hell.
“Let it go, Lance,” Mitch urged.
But he wouldn’t, Alex knew. Couldn’t. “Say it, Brody,” he taunted. “Don’t hold back.”
Old anger burst free. “You used her. You wanted to screw the daughter of your mother’s employer and you did everything and anything necessary to coax her into bed before dumping her like so much garbage. Rumor has it, it was a bet. Is that why you did it? You and your old pal, El Gato, put money on which of you would be the first?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” The words escaped in a flood of Spanish, but Lance got the gist. “Huntington filled her head with lies—lies she chose to believe.”
“That’s not the story we heard.”
Alex forced himself to relax, using every ounce of the iron will and tenacity that had earned him his first million. He deliberately switched to English. “And we all know how trustworthy Sebastian Huntington is. Clearly, his word is solid.”
An uncomfortable silence reigned for a full minute before Darius tapped the sheaf of papers in front of him. “If we could focus on the matter at hand?” He paused until he had everyone’s attention. “The one thing we do have is incontrovertible evidence regarding the embezzlement. And there’s little to no doubt Sebastian Huntington is behind it.”
“I’ve spoken with some of the other board members,” Mitch offered. “Quietly. Privately. They all say the same thing. They want Huntington to step down as treasurer—”
Justin snorted. “You think?”
“—and replace the money. There’s been some talk about his resigning from the club.”
“Some talk?” Kevin responded indignantly. “You can’t be suggesting there’s any question about that.”
“Apparently there is,” Mitch replied. “He’s been a member in good standing for decades. We may all consider him a pompous ass, but the old guard is closing ranks.”
“Sounds familiar,” Alex murmured. He released his breath in a sigh. He didn’t know why any of this surprised him, but it did. “I’ll speak to Huntington about replacing the money.”
The Brody brothers exchanged uneasy glances. “I’m not sure—” Lance began.
Alex cut him off without compunction. “I don’t care what you think or what you’re sure of or not sure of. I will speak to Huntington. Deal with Gentry as you wish. Perhaps you can squeeze the truth out of him. If he points the finger at Rebecca’s father, then you may choose how to handle it. I, for one, have no qualms about seeing both Gentry and Huntington locked up for the rest of their miserable lives.”
“Regardless of what it’ll do to Rebecca?” Lance asked.
Alex leaned across the table toward him, his gaze implacable. “He gave no thought to what it would do to the lives of my mother and sister when he threw us off his ranch. All because I had the temerity to fall in love with his daughter. As far as I’m concerned, my mother’s death is a direct result of that man’s actions. So, no. I’m not too concerned about Rebecca’s feelings when I see to it that her bastard of a father is thrown in jail.” He’d had enough. More than enough. He shoved back his chair and stood. “Are we finished here? If so, I have pressing business to attend to.”
It was business that would eventually return him to Rebecca’s orbit. As he left the meeting room, he glanced toward the café. She was still there, sitting with Kate and picking at her food.
She’d worn her hair up today, piling all that fire and glitter into an elegant little knot on top of her head. Did she have any idea what that hairstyle did to a man? She had a redhead’s complexion, her skin the exact shade of rich cream. And her hairstyle exposed the creamy length of her throat and vulnerable nape of her neck to his gaze. When they’d collided earlier, it had taken every bit of control not to feather his fingers along that throat. To restrain from cupping the back of her neck and urging her upward so he could sample her lush mouth and discover if it still tasted as sweet. To watch those witch-green eyes go slumberous with passion.
As much as he despised the woman—as much as Rebecca Huntington had made his life a living hell—he still wanted her. And somehow, someway, he’d have her.
Only this time, it would be on his terms.
Two
R ebecca had planned to question her father at dinner that night. But when she entered the dining room, the housekeeper, Louise, informed her that he was dining with his cronies. It seemed ridiculous to eat in solitary splendor, but since the table had been set and the food prepared, there wasn’t much she could do except enjoy the lovely meal that had been prepared for her.
Shortly after nine, Louise appeared in the doorway of the library where Rebecca was curled up reading. “There’s a visitor to see Mr. Huntington. When I informed him that your father was out for the evening, he insisted on speaking to you.”
Alex stepped around Louise and entered the library. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”
Rebecca shot to her feet, her book bouncing onto the floor. Louise stared wide-eyed from one to the other. Clearly, she’d heard the whispers regarding their romantic history and didn’t know how to respond. “I’ll deal with Mr. Montoya,” Rebecca informed the housekeeper.
Alex waited until the door closed behind the woman before bending over and picking up Rebecca’s book. He gave the cover a cursory glance before handing it over. “You always did enjoy science fiction.”
She didn’t bother with the niceties. Instead, she cut straight to business. “Why are you here? Louise said you wanted to speak to Dad.”
“Texas Cattleman’s Club business. Rather urgent business. Is he really gone, or am I simply persona non grata?”
“Both, actually.”
He absorbed that with a smile. “When do you expect him?”
Dread gripped her. This must be about the meeting at TCC and the account discrepancy Kate mentioned. Rebecca had called her friend after dinner hoping to get an update, but had been forced to leave a voice mail. Now she wondered if there was a reason Kate elected not to take the call.
She faced Alex with what she hoped was a serene expression. Realizing that he was still waiting for a response, she shrugged. “Dad didn’t say when he’d return. Perhaps if you phone him in the morning?”
He laughe
d. “Get real, Becca. He’d never take the call. I’ll wait until he returns. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
Making himself at home, he removed his suit jacket and dropped it over the back of the nearest chair. His snowy-white shirt stretched across a physique every bit as impressive now as when he’d played soccer. In fact, she found it more impressive with the added heft and refined muscle the years had built into his frame. A silk tie in a deep, rich ruby was knotted at his throat while a gold tie tack and matching cuff links gleamed in the subdued lighting. He was a gorgeous man, fully in his prime. Intelligent. Confident. Wealthy.
And he knew it.
Unless she chose to throw him out—a laughable exercise in futility—she had no option but to surrender gracefully. “What’s this about, Alex?” She waved aside the response she knew he’d make. “I know it’s TCC business. What, specifically?”
He considered for a moment before inclining his head. “Since I’m sure Kate’s already told you, I don’t suppose it matters.” She didn’t bother to correct him, and he continued. “It’s regarding an account discrepancy.”
She fought to swallow against a throat gone desert dry. “What sort of discrepancy?”
“Some money has gone missing.”
Oh, God. “How much?” she asked tightly.
“Three hundred thousand.”
The blood drained from her head and she felt her knees buckle. He reached her side before she even sensed him moving. Strong, powerful hands closed around her arms and he ushered her backward the few steps it took to reach the sofa.
“Sit down.” When she balked, his voice took on an impatient edge. “Don’t be ridiculous, Becca. You’re going down whether you sit or fall. Better to sit, yes?”
