by Day Leclaire
“You think he stole it, don’t you? You think my father’s responsible.”
He eased her onto the couch cushions and took a seat beside her, his hands still on her. Touching her. Grasping her. Warming her. “I don’t think.” He instantly dashed her hopes by adding, “I know he stole the money. The proof is undeniable.”
“There must be some mistake, some reasonable explanation—” she began, searching his expression with raw distress. “Please, Alex.”
“You always do that.” His gaze blistered her, pinning her in place with eyes the color of bitter dark chocolate. “You always defend him. It doesn’t matter what he does, how despicable his actions, you always take his side.”
“I don’t want to discuss our past.” She couldn’t bear it. Even after seven long years, the hurt was as fresh as yesterday. “He may have fired Carmen, even though I begged him not to, but his actions weren’t anywhere near as despicable as your own.”
His expression hardened, assuming a ruthlessness she’d never seen in the Alex she’d known all those years ago. “You’re talking about the bet.”
She attempted to escape the couch, but he held her in place, refusing to give her the breathing room she needed so desperately. “Of course I’m talking about the bet. The one you made with Rodriquez.”
“I’ve always been curious.” He tilted his head to one side while he studied her. “How, precisely, did your father learn of this bet?”
She stirred uncomfortably. “Word gets around, Alex. People…people brag.”
“Meaning, I must have bragged, because I was so proud of having won this bet. So, first I coaxed you into my bed on a dare and then I boasted about my success when it proved so easy?” He ignored her flinch. “Yes, I see that’s what you believe. Because that was the sort of man I was. A man who steals innocence and brags of his misdeeds. A man who lies and cheats to get what he wants.”
“Don’t do this, Alejandro.”
But he didn’t relent. “And because I was this liar, this cheat, this ruiner of all pure and wholesome, your father lashed out at—not just me—but my family, as well. As payback for having the audacity to touch you, he left my sister homeless and caused my mother to work herself into an early grave. This is the man you defend, dulzura?”
She would have covered her ears if she could have. But he continued to hold her, forcing her to hear each hideous word. “Don’t. Don’t call me that. You don’t have the right. Not any longer.”
It was the wrong thing to say. “I’ve never had the right, have I?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “Even though you took me into your bed, you still felt guilty. Tarnished.”
“That’s not true,” she instantly denied. “I loved you.”
“The housekeeper’s son.”
How could he think such a thing? She’d never felt that way. Never. “I didn’t care. It didn’t matter.”
His eyes blazed. “You mean it doesn’t matter now. Now that I have money and status and a ranch that rivals any in Maverick County.” With a muttered curse, he ripped at the knot anchoring his tie as though it were strangling him, and removed the gold tie tack. Up close, she realized it was a beautifully scripted M. He slipped it into his pocket before leaning in. “And now I have the power to determine your father’s future…as well as your own.”
None of this made sense. Not any of it. “My father is renowned for his investment acumen. His business abilities are unparalleled. Why in the world would he need to embezzle money from the club?” Rebecca demanded. “Obviously, there’s been some sort of mistake.”
“You’re right. There has. And your father made it. Even worse, he made it right in front of me, where I could have the pleasure of playing sheriff to his bank robber.”
She moistened her lips while she struggled to find some answer to his accusation. In response, a flame of desire licked across his expression. Just like that, time slowed and her world tipped in a new and dangerous direction. It was as though all her senses grew more acute and intensely focused, consumed by her reaction to one man.
Alejandro Montoya.
Sound dampened. The only whisper slipping through was the labored give and take of their breath. She inhaled sharply, but all that did was fill her lungs with his unique scent, something crisp and spicy. Exotic. His hands tightened on her arms and she remembered how they’d felt against her skin all those years ago. Strong, when they swept her up and carried her to his bed. Tender, when he’d undressed her and caressed parts of her no man had seen or touched until that moment. Gentle, when he’d mated his body to hers and taught her a passion she’d only dreamed about.
Rebecca’s surroundings melted and all she could see was Alex. He became her universe. He leaned in, so slowly she couldn’t mistake his intent. So slowly, that she could have avoided the embrace if she’d truly wanted to. She didn’t. She wished she could have claimed it was simple curiosity. But it went far beyond that. She needed to know, once and for all, whether the heat between them was real, or mere shadows of what they’d once shared.
“Dulzura…” he murmured.
And then he consumed her. How could she have forgotten how it had been between them? Or perhaps she hadn’t forgotten. Living without him and what he’d given her had been too painful to bear, so she’d pushed the memories from her mind as an act of self-protection. Now those memories came crashing down, ripping her apart like shards of broken glass.
His mouth shifted over hers, firm and experienced, with more assurance than ever. Where before he’d coax her lips apart, this time he demanded. She didn’t want to resist, it seemed so pointless. So she didn’t. Her mouth parted beneath his and she shuddered in the taking, the clever parry of tongue and nip of teeth, combined with the sweet, sweet flavor of him.
The sofa cushions caught her as Rebecca fell backward. Alex followed her down, settling angles over the soft give of her body, angles that had grown sharper and more defined with the passage of the years. While his hands coasted along her sides and swept upward beneath the flowing cotton blouse she wore, hers made short work of the buttons hindering her own path. At long last, she yanked apart the edges of his shirt and found the warmth beneath, reacquainting herself with every muscular knot and burl.
He followed suit and she shuddered at the sweep of the calloused ridges of his fingers and palms. He might be one of the wealthiest businessmen in the state, but at heart he was, and always would be, one with the land. El Diablo wasn’t just a rich man’s toy. It was a working ranch, and based on the calluses on his hands and the lean, sculpted expanse beneath her fingers, he worked it himself.
His hands stroked upward until they closed over her unfettered breasts, cupping the weight of them in his palms. “I could never get over the softness of your skin. It feels like velvet. But when I look at it…I swear, it’s paler than moonbeams.”
His thumbs drifted across the tips of her breasts in a tantalizing circle and the softest of moans escaped her. She couldn’t help herself. She cupped his face, tracing the elegant contours. Sweeping cheekbones above shallow hollows. A wide mouth that begged to be kissed, framed by deep brackets of painful experience. A squared jaw with just the shadow of an indent, one she’d traced with her index finger on countless occasions.
She slid her hands into his hair to anchor him in place, taking private delight in gaining control of the embrace. Lifting upward, she nibbled at his lips, teasing at them until he groaned and sank back against her. She parted her legs to give him more room, running her bare foot along his calf, secretly amused as she pressed a series of wrinkles into the crisp material of his trouser leg. She wanted to take the urbane businessman and strip away the outer layer of sophistication, to reduce him to that elemental core that made him so unique and distinctive. To find again the pure masculine essence of the man she’d fallen in love with.
It was a moment out of time. A moment of indulgence. A moment that came to a shocking end when the door to the library slammed open against the wall.
&nbs
p; “What the hell is going on?” Sebastian Huntington demanded.
Her father’s arrival snapped her out of her sensual haze as effectively as a hypnotist snapping his subject out of a trance. She knew there was no point in trying to shove Alex off her. For one thing, he was far too heavy and strong, particularly if he had no intention of getting off—which she suspected was true in this case. Plus, the damage had been done.
Alex glanced across the room at her father and bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. “You’re interrupting a private moment,” he said. “Next time, you might consider knocking before you barge in.”
Sebastian stared, stunned. “It…it’s my house,” he sputtered in protest. “I don’t have to knock to enter a room in my own house.”
“You do if you want to avoid scenes like this.” Alex levered himself off Rebecca and shoved his hands through the hair she’d taken such delight in rumpling. Then he held out his hand and helped her escape the embrace of the sofa cushions. He took his time buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his trousers. He didn’t bother to adjust his tie, but left it dangling. “I see you’re still as arrogant as ever, Huntington. Let’s see how long that lasts.”
“Alex,” Rebecca attempted to intercede.
He simply shook his head. “This doesn’t involve you, Becca.”
“But—”
He shot her a single look and she fell silent. Unfortunately, he was right. This was none of her business, other than the fact that her father was somehow involved. She wasn’t privy to whatever information he had about the missing money, or what mistakes might have occurred that led Alex to believe her father had committed the crime. But she could stand beside her father and support him while he cleared up the misunderstanding.
“What are you doing here?” Sebastian demanded. He shot Rebecca a look of intense rebuke. “Other than attacking my daughter.”
“Is that how it looked to you?” A genuine grin broke across Alex’s face. “Well, whatever allows you to sleep at night.”
Dull color crept up the older man’s cheekbones. “I repeat. Why are you here?”
“I’ve been asked to come. The board of the TCC requested it.”
To Rebecca’s horror, every scrap of color drained from her father’s face. His jaw worked for a moment before he managed to say, “I don’t believe you.”
“Discrepancies have been discovered in the club’s financial accounts. Checks have been paid out to at least one bogus company.” His mouth took on a taunting slant. “Checks you endorsed.”
Sebastian’s hands clenched into fists. “The only checks I’ve written have been in response to legitimate billing statements.”
Alex folded his arms across his chest. “Like to Helping Hearts?”
Rebecca frowned. “Don’t you mean Helping Hands?” she asked. “That’s the women’s shelter where Summer works. Aren’t they part of an outreach program that the Texas Cattleman’s Club funds?”
“Helping Hands is the outreach program we assist. I couldn’t tell you what Helping Hearts is,” Alex replied. Though he addressed Rebecca, his gaze remained fixed on Sebastian. “But since your father cut several generous checks to them, I’m hoping he can tell me. Especially considering all of them were cashed at the same bank by none other than the president of that fine, upstanding institution—who, coincidentally enough, joined TCC shortly before the first check was cashed.” He allowed that information to sink in. “So explain it to your daughter, Sebastian. What exactly is Helping Hearts?”
To Rebecca’s shock, beads of sweat broke out across her father’s forehead. “I’d have to check the records, examine the invoices, assuming they can be found.”
“That’s easy enough. I have a copy of the checks in question, all signed by you and approved by your banker friend, Rhymes. But the invoices are conveniently missing.”
Sebastian’s chin lifted. “Then I don’t see how I can help you.”
“All of the invoices for Helping Hearts are missing,” Alex repeated softly. “Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“It happens. They were probably misfiled.”
“Or shredded, assuming they ever existed.”
Sebastian shrugged. “If that’s all…?”
“Not even close. There’s going to be an audit, Huntington. And when it’s done, you will be, as well. How much will they find missing? From what little we’ve been able to dig up, it’s in the neighborhood of three hundred grand.”
“Dad!”
Sebastian flinched. “You have no right—”
Alex stepped forward, his voice low and hard. “We have every right, you son of a bitch. You sit in your fine mansion and act as though you’re somehow superior to everyone else.”
“I can trace my birthright back to—”
Alex cut him off. “Who cares? You think that will matter to the board? Save it for your cellmates. Maybe they’ll give a damn who your ancestors were and what they accomplished. Personally, I don’t see a pedigree when I look at you. All I see is a thief.”
Sebastian pulled at his tie as though it were choking him. “You have no proof!”
“How long do you think it’ll take for me to get it? Do you think Rhymes will stand by you when we trace those checks back to him and accuse him of fraud? Where do you think he’ll point the finger, especially if he’s offered a deal?” Sebastian’s breath quickened and he wiped his brow with a hand that trembled, but it was clear that Alex wasn’t finished. “Just like Gentry is going to point the finger at you as the instigator when we pin him for torching Brody Oil and Gas and my barn.”
“What?”
Sebastian stumbled and Rebecca darted to his side, helping him to the nearest chair. Then she hurried across the room and splashed a generous finger of whiskey into a tumbler. Returning to her father’s side, she pressed the glass into his hands.
“Easy, Dad. Drink this.”
“I swear to you, Rebecca,” he said in an undertone. “I had nothing to do with those fires. I have no idea what Montoya is talking about.”
She believed him. “Why would my father ask his foreman to set those fires?” she demanded of Alex. “What possible motive could he have?”
“We wondered the same thing,” he admitted. “But considering how everyone’s been running around like a bunch of crazed ants when their anthill has been kicked over, the motive became clear enough. Your father needed to keep the Brodys, me and several other key members of the TCC too busy to look at the accounts. To keep us fighting among ourselves while he covered his tracks.”
“You’re insane,” Sebastian whispered. Then his eyes widened. “My God! You think I don’t see what’s going on here? You’re behind the arson fires—assuming it really was arson.”
Alex laughed in genuine amusement. “Why would I burn my own barn?”
“To implicate me.” Her father’s voice grew more assertive. “You’re a fool, Montoya, if you think anyone will believe me capable of such an act. They’ll all see this for what it really is—your petty stab at revenge for my having fired your mother all those years ago. I had nothing to do with those fires. Nothing.”
She couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t deny dipping into TCC funds and her heart sank. “The money?” she asked tentatively.
He tossed back the whiskey, then closed his eyes and nodded his head. For a full thirty seconds, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t seem to process the truth. Then it all came crashing down on her. No. Oh, please, no. How could her father have done such a thing? Why would he?
Aware of Alex’s intent gaze, she slowly straightened and faced him. “If—and I stress the word if—my father did contribute to some sort of accounting error—”
“So gently put.” Alex’s expression hardened. “It’s called embezzlement, Becca. He stole the money.”
She pressed her lips together to keep them from betraying her panic. “If he stole the money, will you give him an opportunity to return it?”
“I don’t have it,” Seb
astian said wearily. “I invested it and the investment hasn’t come through yet.”
A small cry of distress escaped, despite her best efforts to control it. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because he’s arrogant.” Alex answered the question before Sebastian had the opportunity. “Because he feels he’s entitled.”
“Because I’m on the verge of bankruptcy and thought this investment would turn everything around. Rodriquez swore it would.”
Rebecca could literally feel the change in the atmosphere, the way it stilled and thickened. “Rodriquez?” Alex repeated. “Paulo?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Paulo. El Gato. Your old friend from the barrio. I didn’t realize he was behind the investment opportunities until it was too late to pull out. The first few ventures went well enough. We both made a modest amount of money. But then, it all went to hell. I realized I was in far deeper than I’d planned.”
“How?” Alex demanded.
“He offered to let me pay a mere pittance of my actual stake, and foolishly I went along. When the deal went south, I had to come up with the balance of the money, fast. That’s when I found out the identity of my new partner.” He gave Alex a pained look. “I don’t have to tell you that Rodriquez plays for keeps.”
“So you stole the money from TCC.”
“Yes. The plan was to replace it as soon as I received my return on our final investment.”
“Only it didn’t work out quite that way. That investment went sour, as well.”
Sebastian’s mouth twisted. “I see you know how it works. I should have figured it out long before I did and cut my losses. Instead, I borrowed—”
“Stole,” Alex cut in.
Sebastian’s head jerked up and he glared across the room. “You want your pound of flesh, don’t you, boy?”
Alex took a single step in Sebastian’s direction, but it was enough to make the older man shrink into his chair. “First, Huntington, I’m no longer a boy. I haven’t been since the day you destroyed my family.”
“You destroyed them yourself!” Sebastian fought back. “If you’d kept your hands off my daughter, none of this would have happened.”
