Made sense. Or did she just want to believe it made sense? “You think he’s at a meeting?”
“He’s not a liar. And you’re making yourself crazy over nothing. And what’s worse is he probably senses it.”
Gina nodded. “We’ve never talked about being exclusive. And I’ve been out of the dating game a long time. How do I ask him something like that?”
Roxann looped an arm over Gina’s shoulder. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, and he’s trained to read people. Talk to him. Settle it for yourself. At the very least, you need to know where your relationship stands.”
Gina leaned forward, put her hands over her face. “I hate this. I wasn’t prepared to care so much. I just wanted to get laid.”
Roxann burst out laughing and Gina, giving up on her foul mood, joined her.
After the gigglefest Gina swiveled to Roxann. “I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t be a good mother with all this emotional stuff spewing. My kids deserve better.”
Before Rox could speak, Michael stepped through the patio doorway. “Grill’s ready. Are we gonna eat tonight or what?”
“Such a charmer.” Roxann went to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Have I ever mentioned what a charmer you are?”
He slapped his hand over her ass with a loud thwack. “Once. Maybe.”
He moved his hands to her face, and they stared at each other for a moment. Everything in the room expanded, smothered. Or maybe Gina had become the third wheel, but either way, Roxi and Michael were in their own world when he finally kissed her.
They loved each other in a way that, day by day, became more of what they needed, and to see them grow into it was a blessing.
Could Gina get that lucky?
With Vic?
At twenty-three hundred hours, Vic pulled into Mike’s driveway and parked behind Tiny’s Hummer. The place resembled an upscale used-car lot. Everyone must be here. His shoulders sagged. All he wanted was a shower and sleep. Dog-assed tired and he didn’t even know if he’d get a bed. The floor wouldn’t do it tonight. Normally, he could rack out anywhere, but the exhaustion had slipped into his bones and he knew he was close to his limit. Staring at the house, he debated on reclining his seat and sleeping in the car.
The four two-story white columns that served as the entryway were illuminated by strategically spaced ground lights. The house had been painted a bright, clean white with green shutters and trim. Even the lush green shrubs had been meticulously picked. Mike had poured big bucks into this house, and it had been worth every penny.
Unfortunately, all five bedrooms would be full. Roy said he’d come up tonight to help them map out security for the party. By tomorrow afternoon there’d be over a hundred people here, and these things always went long. Roy had been told to bring his wife and two kids with him, and the lucky pups were probably sleeping in Vic’s room.
That was okay.
He guessed.
After all, Roy wouldn’t get to spend much time with his family this weekend, but at least they’d be in the same place and the kids could enjoy the pool.
Maybe he could crash on one of the pullout couches in the basement? Tiny and Monk probably snagged those already. Hell, if worse came to worse, he would sneak in with Gina for a while and get out before anyone woke up. He needed a good three hours of slumber. Problem was, if he got in bed with Gina, he wouldn’t want to sleep.
Then again, she’d been an iceberg all day and he had no idea why. He shook his head, climbed out of the car and started for the front door. Women confused the hell out of him.
Monk marched around the side of the house in his typical uniform of combat boots, black cargo shorts and a T-shirt. The red do-rag on his head was a nice touch.
“Hey,” Vic said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just checking the grounds. Everything is quiet. I’ll be out here for a few hours, then Tiny is up. Roy’s got the back. Billy should be here any time now. By tomorrow we’ll have enough guys here, the president would be safe.”
No lie there. This would be the safest place for Gina and the kids. Sirhan would be a total dumb-ass to try a breach. “I’m gonna rack out for a while and take a shift later.”
“Roger that.” Monk went on his way.
Vic lumbered through the front door, glanced left and right. Lamp lights were on in the living room, but the formal dining room remained dark. He reached in and flipped on the light. The large oak table and china cabinet had been polished to a gleam and he wondered the last time Mike and Roxi had actually used the room.
Leaving the light on—he wasn’t about to give any bad guys an opportunity to hide in a darkened room—he moved down the long hallway toward the kitchen and heard the television on low volume in the great room.
“What’s happening?” he asked Mike, who wore shorts and a Go Army T-shirt.
Mike pointed to the gallon of rocky road he had just covered. “You wanna hit this?”
“Nah.” He dropped his overnight bag on the floor. “Everyone in bed?”
“Yeah.” Mike put the ice-cream scoop in the dishwasher. “Tiny’s downstairs sleeping. Gina and the kids are in bed. Roxi is out like a light. She wants to get up early for a run before everything gets crazy tomorrow.”
Roxann could run a good ten miles in one shot. “You going with her?”
“Unless you volunteer.”
“Forget that.”
“Why is my sister a grouch?” Mike asked, taking the bowl of ice cream to the couch with him.
Vic scratched his head, ran his hand through the too-long strands. Dammit. He forgot to get his haircut. Again. “Couldn’t tell ya. I’ve asked her three times. She’s driving me bat-shit.”
Mike grunted. “Welcome to my world, pal.”
“Thanks.” An idea flashed. “Maybe it’s hormones?”
“Hey now,” Mike laughed. “Don’t be saying that to her. I said that to my ex-wife once and she nearly ripped my nuts off. Women get pissed when men talk about their hormones.”
Good to know. This would be why Vic didn’t do relationships, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. They were still trying to find level ground when it came to Gina.
“I’m gonna hit the shower and grab a nap,” Vic said.
“Your bed is taken. You can try one of the pullouts downstairs or this one. I’m going up after the ice cream.”
Vic grabbed his bag and headed upstairs. He’d kicked his dirty sneakers off at the front door and his feet sank into the soft carpet. He passed the boys’ room and laughed because one of them was snoring like a linebacker. Nearly three steps from the bathroom Gina’s door opened and she stuck her head out.
“Hi.” She stepped into the hallway and the sight of her gave him a warm feeling in his gut. She’d shoved her wild hair into a clip and had the Michelin Man bathrobe on again. That bathrobe needed to find a home elsewhere.
He tossed his bag in the bathroom, walked to her and leaned against the doorjamb. “Did I wake you up?”
“I heard you pull in.”
“Sorry.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t really sleeping anyway. Come in, let’s not talk out here. We’ll wake everyone.”
Stepping into the room he said, “Your brother is still downstairs.”
Not knowing what Gina had in mind he wanted to make sure she had all the information. Somehow he didn’t think Mike would appreciate the chorus of moaning that accompanied sex with his sister.
“I’ll try to control myself,” she cracked, flipping the lamp on and sitting on the bed. She held a hand out to the wingback chair in the corner. “Have a seat.”
“I wanna hit the shower first.”
“You need a shower that bad?”
“Actually, yeah. My jeans are covered in farm dust and I don’t want to sit on the furniture.”
She drew her eyebrows together. “Farm dust? Why?”
Given his current state of exhaustion he wondered why they needed to do the how-was-your-day-dear
routine now.
“That’s where I was tonight.”
She gave her head a good shake. What the hell? Maybe she was groggy from sleep or something.
“You said you had a business meeting.”
Earth to Gina. “I did.”
“At the farm? With a client?”
Whoa. The harsh voice reminded him of his mother when she got whacked out on heroin, and it felt like a brick falling on his head. What was this about? He’d never known Gina to be bipolar.
“Yes,” he said, trying not to sound like the sarcastic prick he was. “At the farm. With a—” He stopped. Hold it. Back the truck up. “Where’d you think I was?”
“All I know is what you told me.”
His girl was a little pissy tonight. Maybe she figured him for an idiot? That was what he’d have to be to not catch her insinuation. “You think I lied to you?”
Silence. She actually thought he was with another woman? Pressure exploded behind his eyes.
Even when he did the right thing he got into trouble. This was total horse shit. He took a deep breath, fought the fury gushing through him. Way too tired for this, but he’d deal with it and then he would take his fucking shower and grab a combat nap.
“I met with the floating-palace guy. He asked me to teach him how to shoot his new nine millimeter, and I parlayed it into getting you another cruise on the yacht. We drove out to the farm and we’ve been running through cornfields all night.”
Silence again.
He made a knocking gesture. “Hello?”
“Oh. My. God.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m such a bitch.”
“At the moment, I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
What the hell was going on with her?
He stared at her for a second and rubbed his gritty eyes, hoping they wouldn’t bleed. He hadn’t felt this kind of torment in years, and it took every bit of his already depleted energy not to rail on her. He’d screwed up by letting his guard down. He’d let the machine take a break. And wound up with this mess.
“How the hell could you think, after what has happened these past weeks, I’d lie to you?”
She rocketed toward him, but he held his hand up. “I may be a screwup when it comes to the kids, but I’ve been honest with you.”
He paced the room. What a fucked-up scenario. His own damned fault for letting his emotions get in the way. The machine would never have let this happen.
Gina grabbed his wrist. “Please let me explain.”
“No.” He snapped his arm away. “I need a shower and some sleep and then I’ll listen. I’m so pissed at you right now, I’ll say something I’ll regret.”
He stepped back, jerked the door open and headed for the much-needed shower.
Damn her! He should have just left things the way they were. Should have stuck with his miserable, broken life, but no, he’d given in and let himself come out of his emotional prison and for what? For this? For this fucking torture that felt like he was being eaten alive. No fucking thank you.
His phone buzzed and he ripped it off his belt. “What?”
“We got activity out here,” Monk said, his voice barely a whisper.
Chapter Nineteen
Man Law: Never let the enemy close to home.
The heightened state of battle calm took over and Vic concentrated on Monk’s words while hauling ass to the first floor. “What is it?”
“Guy in the trees next to the house. Right side. Can’t see him yet, but he’s out there. I caught a shadow.”
“What?” Mike said when he saw Vic flying down the stairs.
“Activity, side of the house.” He went back to Monk. “I’m coming out the back and around the far side. Don’t fucking shoot me. No guns unless you have to. Gunshots bring cops and there’s nothing we can tell them. Let’s just grab this guy.”
He hung up and held a hand to Mike already moving toward the door. “No. Wake Tiny up and stay in the house. Somebody has to stay with the kids.”
Fuck battle calm. If this was that fucking Conlin again, he’d snap his neck. Vic was done with this asshole.
He tore around the house, his adrenaline howling after his fight with Gina. He needed to blow off some steam, and this couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
He slowed as he reached the side of the house and took three deep breaths to contain his swarming anger. He needed to mentally sweep it into a pile. Take thirty seconds to get his head straight before he got his ass shot off doing something stupid.
A long, surveilling look around the side of the house only yielded parked cars. He moved a couple of feet to hide behind the Weeping Cherry tree. No movement, just the sound of the evening wind coming off the lake. He waited a minute. I know you’re out there, you little fucker. Come out and play.
The soft snap of a twig gave him a direction and he shifted his head toward it. He’d wait another minute. Which way was the asshole moving? A second later leaves rustled to his right and he squinted into the trees. Gotcha. Sneaking along the tree line not twenty feet away.
Vic’s body moved into the hypersensitive state of alert where everything went quiet and he absorbed all sound around him. He squeezed his eyes tight and released them. His system hummed.
Don’t move, don’t move. Let him come closer. At any second the asshole would see him huddled behind the tree.
The guy came closer. One more step. One more. Yes. The adrenaline charge propelled Vic from his hiding spot and he dove for the intruder. At the last second, the enemy leaped sideways and Vic hit the ground hard. Missed. He popped to his feet, flipping a roundhouse kick in the guy’s direction, tagging him on the hip, but the son of a bitch stayed on his feet.
The sharp gleam of metal caught Vic’s attention. Knife!
A full roar rang in his ears and he stepped in, leading with an elbow to the nose. Crunch. Blood streaming.
A knee to the midsection, and the asshole bent over and let out a whoosh of air.
Don’t let him recover.
Vic blasted him with an elbow to the back of the shoulders and the guy went down, moaning as he hit the ground face-first. Monk flew around the corner and jumped in to secure the bad guy.
“He’s got a knife,” Vic said.
Monk ran a penlight over the ground and stopped. “Got it. Shit.”
“What?” Vic, out of breath—what the fuck?—bent over. Ow. A stinging sensation just below his ribs blasted him.
Monk shined the light at him. “Did he get you?”
Vic straightened and glanced down at his suddenly wet and illuminated golf shirt. Blood.
Fuck. “You son of a bitch. You cut me.”
He stepped to his assailant, already knowing it wasn’t Conlin, and flipped the hulking fucker over. Blood oozed from his nose and mouth, but there was no denying this was the asshole from the bar. Dammit. These guys were persistent, not to mention sneaky, little bastards. They had been able to penetrate Vic’s security and take pictures, shoot video and get onto Mike’s property.
He’d like to put a bullet in this fucker and be done with him, but he was associated with a terrorist and might have useful information. Maybe he’d lead them to Sirhan, the big ticket. Taking him out was the goal.
Vic gave the guy a not so light nudge with his foot. “You again. You’re really making me regret not tossing you off the roof of that club. You and Conlin are pissing me off.”
The guy moaned, half-unconscious. Tiny walked up, shook his head at the guy and smirked.
“Sweet,” he said.
“Keep an eye on our friend here,” Monk said gesturing to the bad guy. “Vic’s wounded and I want to check him out.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll need a few stitches.”
Monk waved the penlight at him. “Let’s see.”
On a huff, Vic pulled up his shirt and Monk shined the light on the gash on his upper abs. “He gave you a nice slice there. I’m guessing twenty-three
stitches. No more, no less.”
“Thank you for the expert analysis. Watch him. I gotta talk to Mike a minute.”
“What do you want to do with him?”
“That’s what I’m gonna talk to Mike about.”
“Hey,” Tiny called. “Gina’s in the kitchen.”
Oh, fucking great. She’d take one look at him in a bloody shirt and freak. He’d deal with that next. Right now, he needed to talk to Mike without Gina around. He unclipped his phone, dialed his cell, hoping he had it on him.
“What’s up?”
Thank you. Finally a break.
“We’re secure. Meet me out back. Leave Gina in the house.”
The floodlights lit up the yard and Vic spotted Roy standing by a clump of trees. The boat knocked gently against the dock while the cool night air rustled the trees along the property. Vic inhaled the moist air, let his body come down from the rush. He waited by the edge of the house until Mike came out. Tried to ignore his stinging belly.
“What the hell?” Mike asked, taking a gander at Vic’s bloody shirt.
“Knife wound. Not a puncture. A few stitches is all.”
“Did you get him?”
“Yeah. He’s by the side of the house.”
“Do you recognize him?”
Vic had to tread carefully here. He hadn’t told Mike about the guy hassling Gina in the bar, and Mikey would go ape shit if he found out now. What with the scumbag on his property and all.
“He’s one of Sirhan’s guys.” Not necessarily a lie.
Mike stepped around Vic to see the guy and came back. “What are you doing with him?”
“We’ll take him to the farm and work on him. See if he has anything to say.”
The look Mike gave him could have euthanized the entire town.
He shrugged. “What?”
Mike laughed, but it was an annoying, sarcastic laugh. “You’re so focused on the kill you’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m not thinking straight? This fucker was marching around your property intending to do who knows what, and you don’t want me to have a go at him?”
Mike gritted his teeth and stepped closer. “This is my house and my family is in it. You want to take this person to another piece of property that I own and ‘work on him’?” Mike stalked around for a minute. “What if he doesn’t tell you anything? Are you going to let him go? What if he squeals to the cops? You’re not the only one at stake here.”
Man Law Page 16
