She turns to walk away, and I call out. “Hey, so what were you doing here anyway?”
Andrea looks over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling in the dim lights. “I was looking for your archery equipment. If you've got a spare bow that's under fifty pounds, I might be tempted to join you when you do decide to try it out again. It's been a while, but I do have some hobbies of my own.”
I sleep like hell that night, my mind swirling with images of Andrea. Andrea in the barn, Andrea eating dinner, Andrea with me in the back area, trying out one of my oldest bows, an old Hoyt target model I'd bought when I was trying to get 'Lissa interested a few years ago. The way her arm and back muscles tensed as she pulled the thirty-six pound Kevlar string back, her eyes focused in the evening light, the fletching caressing the soft skin around her luscious, bow-shaped lips...
“Fuck,” I mutter, sitting up in bed. I look over at my clock, and see that it's twelve thirty at night. Sighing, I pull a t-shirt on with my pajama bottoms and head downstairs. Maybe I can grab some milk in the kitchen or something, calm my nerves.
I hear movement as I reach the lower landing, and am only slightly surprised when Nathan reaches over and turns the table lamp next to the sofa on. “You're awake still?”
The man shakes his head, his face solemn, but at least he's not wearing his suit any longer. He's changed into black cotton pants and a plain gray t-shirt, but plain on the table next to him is his pistol. It's within easy reach next to the light switch. I don't see Maverick, but if I remember right I last saw the giant dog sleeping in the dooryard just as the moon came up.
“I am a light sleeper,” Nathan says quietly. It's strange how his voice can change from deep and intimidating almost to quiet and contemplative in an instant. “I decided that if I am going to sleep lightly, this is the best place to do it. I can cover the main entrance and the access to the second floor from here. I can’t cover external direct entrance, but there is no need for that level of paranoia yet.”
“Paranoia?” I ask, questioning. “Is that the right word?”
“It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you,” Nathan says, lightly joking. “Actually, I know Peter is. He already had someone track down Andrea's apartment in the French Quarter. Thankfully she brought her laptop and anything else containing sensitive information with her. From what I heard, the place was ransacked, and most of the interior torched to cover it up. However, starting tomorrow I will need to talk with Katrina.”
“Why?” I ask, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “You don't have to go back there, do you?”
Nathan shakes his head, but his face is still solemn. “No, but Peter knows that Andrea has her cell phone. He can use some of his connections and maybe crack the phone company database. He will be able to find there was a phone call from your number. If he has good people, he could even get your address from the database itself.”
“Then shouldn't we look at getting out of here?” I ask, worried. “You're telling me the Don of the Delta is coming for blood. I doubt he cares if 'Lissa and I are caught in the crossfire.”
Nathan shakes his head. “We can discuss it with everyone in the morning, but my vote is for no. First off, your sister cannot handle it. I would rather try and defend a location that you are familiar with, with your sister in her best mental state, than to try for a moving defense while on the run. It would be tough even if I had a squad of trained operators with me. Right now there is only me, Katrina who is a new mother and isn't trained for this, Jackson who is still learning, and you. All I know about you is that you like shooting, and have a heart to protect Melissa. Andrea's strengths are more suited for intel and strategy, not this. Oh, and a dog. With the resources we have available, a static defense is the best option.”
“And you were going to break this news to us when?” I ask, slightly pissed off.
“In the morning,” Nathan says quietly. “I got back too late, and you were all too tired to trouble your minds tonight. Don’t worry, Carson. I know for sure that Peter doesn’t know where you live, or that you even exist as of nine o'clock this evening. And I promise you, as long as I am here, you and Melissa will be safe.”
I'm about to answer when I hear a familiar rustling in the bedroom directly above our heads, and I know that Melissa's having a nightmare. Damn, I was hoping they'd hold off a little bit longer. “Okay. We'll talk in the morning. In the meantime...”
Melissa calls out in the night, her voice barely audible through the ceiling, but I know if I don't get up there soon, she'll scream, waking the others. Nathan notices my look, and points to the stairs. “Go. Take care of your sister.”
I nod gratefully and make my way upstairs. As I make my way to Melissa's room, I see the door to Jackson and Katrina's room swing open, and Katrina sticks her head out. “Need help?” she offers.
“No. Nathan's downstairs, watching guard. Get some sleep. I'm used to this,” I whisper, and Katrina nods once, closing her door. I go inside, and see that Melissa's wrapped herself in her sheet, and is already starting to cry in her sleep. I go over and sit next to her, placing my hand on her forehead, letting her feel my presence.
“It's okay, 'Lissa. I'm here,” I whisper softly, just loud enough that I think she can hear me, hoping she'll hear me even in her nightmare. It works, sometimes. “I'll protect you.”
This time my words do work, and Melissa relaxes back into peaceful rest. I lean back against her headboard, closing my eyes, and hope that between myself and the other people in this house, I didn't just lie to my sister.
Chapter 7
Andrea
After just under a week at the Sands farm, life has fallen into a relatively nice routine. Unfortunately part of that routine was me missing classes, but I agreed with Nathan and Katrina that I couldn't take the risk. Not with Peter out and actively looking for us. That was highlighted the first night after Peter's men broke into my apartment, tearing the hell out of it in an attempt to find information about where I was before torching it. The story barely made the papers, since the whole thing was written off as a simple ”electrical short” that gutted just the apartment itself. The article I read didn't list me by name, but said authorities had determined the tenant was off somewhere, and they were looking to make contact. Yeah, fat chance of that happening. I guess I'm lucky. I always bring my computer and phone with me, which they could have really used to hurt us.
With extra free time on my hands, I've used the hours to forge and re-forge family bonds and relationships. From about six thirty to nine, I get to spend time with BA, short for Baby Andrea. We're all using the name because Nathan keeps getting confused when Katrina, Jackson and I discuss things with him. I'd tried calling her 2.0 as a nod to Katrina and I both being into computers. However, while Kat and I didn't have a problem with the moniker, the men couldn't get used to calling someone a number, so BA it is. Jackson's made a few 'I pity the fool' jokes, but nothing too bad after Katrina jabbed him in the ribs when he asked if she'd look good with a mohawk.
While I'm playing with and taking care of BA, her parents are enjoying the opportunity to spend quality time together, something that I know both of them appreciate. I keep telling Jackson it isn't a problem for me, that I'm getting to know my niece, but he's still geeked about the chance to work out with his wife again, not to mention any intimacy. Considering the stiffies he's popping during their sessions, I'm pretty sure I know why. Katrina's a beautiful woman, and Jackson's head over heels for her, it's totally obvious. For him, the workouts are as much foreplay as exercise, and to be honest I'm a little jealous. I know they're disappearing to remote parts of the farm during BA's naps, and I can only imagine what they're getting up to in private.
After watching BA through breakfast, I spend the morning doing my own exercise, or just hanging out with someone else. Normally it's Jackson, who I'm enjoying bonding with as a sibling. He's actually funny, and I'm finding him as much a friend as a brother, which I never expected to happen before.
“Watch it, oniichan,” I half-growl, straining as I pull on the rope that hangs from the rafter. I'm no superwoman like Katrina though, and I end up wrapping my feet around the rope to help me climb all the way up. “I can still drop feet first onto your head from here. That might even get through your thick skull.”
“Doubt it,” Jackson teases, then smiles. “Come on Andi, we all can see it. You two are diggin' on each other. Hardcore.”
“You're picking up Katrina's lower Ninth Ward talk,” I reply as I lower myself down the rope. When I'm low enough, Jackson smacks me. It's supposed to be my leg, but he catches me in the butt, and I'm up the rope again. “Hey! That's sexual harassment! And pervy on your sister!” I grumble.
“Only if I meant something behind it,” he says, not apologizing in the least. “Seriously though, why get bitchy about it? He's not deformed or anything.”
“He's kind of our brother, remember?” I hiss, touching the overhead beam and lowering down again. Jackson lets me off the rope, which is good because my hands are burning. “Or did you forget that part?”
Jackson shakes his head, unconcerned. “Nope. What you apparently forget is that Carson Sands shares exactly zero DNA with you or me. Hell, Peter never even acknowledged Melissa as his. Now, if you had a thing for Melissa I'd be concerned, not because she's a woman, but because of the DNA thing. But Carson is family only through an emotional bond with 'Lissa.”
“And she's got issues of her own, so I don't need to be fucking with her head any more than it's been fucked with,” I add, going over and starting a set of jumping lunges. Seriously, where did Katrina come up with some of this shit? It's good torture though, I gotta give her that. “I don't want to hurt her. You like her too, admit it.”
“We all do,” Jackson agrees, bringing over the log that I'm supposed to use for my next walk across the barn. “One more of these, and we start the Spiderman Walks.”
“You wife loves pain,” I grunt as I try my best to actually get off the ground with each step while I try to balance the log in my arms. “If I check out your dojo in Baton Rouge, would I find other implements lying around?”
“Hey, the handcuffs and whips are just for training purposes only,” Jackson shoots back, making me laugh. Still, his remark is too close for comfort, and I shut up, forcing myself to focus on my workout. “Seriously though, I've got no problems with it, Andi. Katrina either, we talked about it this morning. Think about it, okay?”
Jackson leaves while I go through the solo portion of my exercise, my mind spinning with what he talked about. Think about it? Thinking about Carson is about all I do in my spare time, and for the past few days I've had a shit-ton of it. Melissa isn't the only one who's having trouble sleeping through the night. Like her, my solution involves Carson joining me in bed, but unlike her, my motives aren't innocent.
I drop into the dust for my yoga moves and meditation, and I'm mostly done when the door to the barn opens again. “Jackson, I said I'd... oh, sorry 'Lissa.”
“It's okay,” Melissa says, coming in. She's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, although I see she's got her untied work boots on, which means she wants to work on her sculpture in the other half of the barn. Fair enough, I've been hogging her workspace for far too long.
“I'm almost done, sorry 'Lissa. Thanks for letting me use your barn again,” I say, getting up and grabbing my t-shirt. I've started taking after Katrina, stripping down to just a sports bra during my workout sessions, since the barn is too hot otherwise.
“No, please... stay?” Melissa says shyly. “I mean, you don't have to go. With Carson gone, and Nathan not around either, I feel best when you're hanging out with me. It helps with my work, too.”
I nod, and use my towel to wipe off. I've already gotten used to Melissa's total lack of shyness when it comes to her body around the house. All of us have gotten partially flashed at least once. Actually, Katrina got a full moon two days ago, all of it totally by accident. So when Melissa drops her jeans before pulling her coveralls off their hook, I barely flinch, and instead just pull my t-shirt on while she gets dressed. “Okay. Mind if we hit the exhaust fans though? I could use some air.”
“Sure!” Melissa says, perking up now that she knows I'm going to hang around. I can't say I love her, not yet, but I do like her a lot. The past week has also shown me that Carson has the devotion and patience of a saint to be able to have dealt with 'Lissa's challenges for so long. It's good to see, and comforting as well, since it reinforces the other feelings that I have about him. “Actually, would you like to help?”
“Me?” I ask, surprised. “You must have the wrong half-sister. I've got absolutely no artistic talent.”
Melissa laughs and goes over to her workbench, pulling out a giant sponge sanding pad. “Actually, all I had planned today was some sanding and polishing work on the copper parts. I'm not so crazy that I need to do all of it myself. And I'll do the power tool part, so you get to come behind with this sponge and the cleaning compound. Nobody can screw that part up.”
“Oh, I don't know, I'm pretty sure Jackson could,” I joke while we get started. As we go to work, I'm amazed at how focused Melissa is as she works. Watching her face open up, the peace that comes to her and the strength, it's like looking at a whole different person. Outside the barn she's usually so timid and insecure, but in here she's completely confident. It's nice to see her like this, and I wish she could be like this all of the time.
Melissa goes over the whole portion she's working on with a big buffing wheel attached to a power drill while I watch. The piece looks like it'll eventually be an angel. The noise is too loud for us to say anything, so we don't talk while she's working for the next half hour, although I'm perfectly fine just watching.
Finally, Melissa sits back, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “There we go. Now, time for the buffing compound. You still up for it?”
“Wax on, wax off, Mr. Miyagi,” I crack, and Melissa's smile dims a little. “Sorry. Yes, I'm ready.”
As we work, Melissa's smile reappears, and she gives me some glances. “You know, getting to know Jackson, Katrina and BA is nice, but I've really appreciated getting to know you this past week, Andrea. You seem to understand me better.”
“Maybe, but remember, we're not totally the same. I can barely remember my mother at all. You at least have some good memories, right?”
“I know,” Melissa says, scrubbing with her pad right next to me. “I don't know which is better though. I wish I could get through a week without disturbing Carson with my nightmares.”
“I wish I could get through a week without wondering if my mother really did jump, or if she was thrown off that roof,” I reply without thinking. Melissa's pad slows, then stops, as she looks at me in shock. I take a deep breath, and nod. “There's evidence that I dug up that my mother was murdered, not that she committed suicide. I can't prove it, but I believe it.”
“Murdered? Was... was Peter involved?” Melissa asks, her eyes wide with disbelief.
She doesn't know how many times I've wrestled with that same question, all the sleepless nights with only that question keeping me company, and never finding an answer. I eventually decided to try not to dwell on it any further, but to still try and take down Peter. Regardless of whether he had my mother murdered or if he just pushed her to suicide, he killed her either way.
I can't say that though, so instead I bear down with my scrubbing pad, huffing. “I'd be a pretty cold-hearted bitch to have stayed in his house for eighteen years without trying to stab him at least once, if I knew for sure.”
Melissa blinks, going silent before going back to work. When she talks again, I can hear that she's trying to force being cheery, but I'm still raw over her l
ast question. “So you guys all seem to be really into fitness.”
“Handles the stress. You poured all your pain into becoming one hell of an artist. Jackson, until he met Katrina again, poured it all into being an asshole with a penchant for bodybuilding. Katrina became a goddamn ninja. Me? I poured it into hitting the books. I mean, I'm half-Asian, I'm supposed to be good at school, right?”
Melissa doesn't say anything else, and I feel bad as I realize that she wasn't trying to rub me the wrong way, she was just trying to find out more about me and to share about herself. We finish the polishing in near silence, and when we stop, she takes the sponges and tosses them toward the workbench. I watch her miserable face for a moment, then go over, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Melissa, I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean to touch a nerve.”
She shakes her head, shy and insecure again, which is even more painful than knowing I hurt her. This barn, her artwork, has been her refuge for her entire life, and I pretty much went and pissed in the middle of it. Great job, Andrea. Real fucking smooth. “It's okay.”
“It's not, but maybe we can talk later about it?” I say, trying to be cheery. “I mean it, I'd like to share more.”
Melissa looks up, hope in her eyes, and gives me a hesitant smile. “Really?”
“Really. Just let me go calm down, and maybe after dinner, the two of us can have a girls' pow-wow. If you want, we can even invite Katrina, she's got stories that'll make your hair curl.”
Melissa shakes her head, then takes my hand. “No, that's okay. I like Katrina, but I'd like to get to know you more first. Besides, I heard her and Jackson talking while I was getting ready, I think they're planning on... a date?”
I chuckle, nodding. “They're still head over heels for each other. I guess with a baby, they have to plan romantic time now. Maybe they roped Carson into babysitting? If not, I guess you and I will be on BA duty tonight. How's that sound?”
Retaliation: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 7
