The Manhattan Encounter

by Addison Fox

  A few heated words didn’t eclipse—or would ever erase—what they shared. He’d known then and sixteen years had only cemented that knowledge.

  But none of it changed the fact their last words weren’t the sort a man wanted to remember.

  Refusing to dwell on it, he settled his phone in his pocket and his wallet in another, then headed for the stairs. He had already spent the afternoon going over security with Jack, Finn and Campbell, along with Cam’s right hand man, T-Bone. They’d even conducted a conference call with the event’s lead security agent, satisfied the night would go off without a hitch.

  So why was he so uncertain?

  So off-balance?

  Campbell was already in the foyer watching for the car when Liam came down the steps. Jack offered up a small nod before he went back to barking instructions to several security additions he’d made from his own ready stash of job mercenaries.

  The vigilant action should have made him feel better, but all it managed to do was lift the hair at the nape of his neck like a whispered warning.

  You can’t protect her.

  The taunt rumbled through his mind on a loop before the sounds of light laughter floated down the grand staircase at his back. He heard his sisters first, then Abby’s quiet but firm tones. But it was the last that caught his attention. That dark, smoky voice that clenched his gut in a tight grip.

  A strange prescience overtook him in the mere moments it took to turn in place.

  And then he forgot to breathe.

  Every reason they should stay home fled at the sight of Isabella, clad in a long, flowing sheath of blue. The deep color—as rich as sapphires—outlined her full breasts before cascading over her slender hips and endlessly long legs.

  She was a vision.

  A goddess.

  And then he caught sight of how her hands fluttered at her waist, as if searching for a place to twist a non-existent hem. His heart clenched—hard—at the small quirk and he moved toward the stairs.

  The action was so simple, so easy to miss yet so real. And in that moment he vowed to make her his own.

  Chapter 14

  Isabella clutched the staircase railing with one hand and reached for the train of her dress in the other. She’d nearly slapped a hand over her stomach at the swarm of bats that had taken wing before she remembered the train.

  Slipping and falling down half a staircase was so not in the plans for the night. Or she hoped like hell it wasn’t. The hard trembling of her legs had her unsure she would make it past the last step.

  And then she was at the bottom and Liam was standing next to her, the long lines of his body framed to perfection in a form-fitting tuxedo.

  Her fingers drifted once more to the cinched waist of her dress, but came up empty with nothing to clench and worry between her fingers. Before she could give it another thought, he had those same fingers in his hands, drawing them to his lips. “You look beautiful.”

  “So do you.”

  His eyes flashed but he kept her hand in his. “This old thing?”

  “I’m not sure how your sisters pulled it off, but four hours ago I didn’t even have a pair of heels with me. Now I’m clad head to toe in couture and wearing several pieces of jewelry Kensington assured me are well-insured.”

  The words tripped off her tongue, light as rose petals, and Isabella marveled they actually came from her.

  Was this what male attention did for you? Gave you that added push to flirt and preen ever so slightly under an appreciative gaze.

  Or was it something more?

  As she catalogued the moments in her mind, she knew it was more.

  Something uniquely Liam.

  “You can smile and flirt with me, but for the record, I still think this is a bad idea.”

  A soft, husky laugh fell from her lips and she almost clamped her mouth shut she was so surprised at the sound. Recovering, she nodded. “I don’t disagree but I’m too excited to care.”

  Their attention was diverted across the foyer when Kensington stepped out of Jack’s embrace, issuing orders while showing off her gown in a light-footed twirl. “Tonight will be fine. We’ve covered all bases, prepped until we were all blue in the face and we’ve added several mercenary thugs who come highly recommended by my beloved. We’ve prepped and planned. We’re good.”

  “We’re good.” Isabella felt the reassuring squeeze of Liam’s fingers. She’d put her trust in these people—it was time she began to trust herself. “I know we’re good so let’s go. We’ve got a party to get to.”

  The men helped each of the women with their wraps and within moments their group was headed out the door. Jack’s promised mercenaries had positioned themselves at the front door, halfway to the street and at the long limo that awaited them all at the curb.

  Isabella already knew the routine. The car would be manned by two of the hired guards at all times, in addition to the driver. The car itself had already been swept for bombs and would be again before they left the event.

  Someone might want her dead, but they were going to have a damn hard time seeing that goal to fruition tonight.

  For now, it was time to enjoy the evening.

  * * *

  Liam settled himself in the limo beside Isabella, their legs brushing against the tight bench seat. Although the limo had room for all of them, they were stuffed so tightly together Liam had memories of his prom night and the herd of teenagers they’d managed to stuff inside their rental.

  “Is that amusement I see in your eyes, big brother?” Rowan’s question was loud enough to be heard above the din.

  “I believe it is.” When his sister only stared at him, he added. “I was thinking about my prom and the limo ride.”

  “Oh, do you remember his date?” Kensington chimed in on the action. “Cressida Bogart. And no, I’m not making up that name.”

  “Biggest breasts in our entire school,” Campbell added proudly before Abby elbowed him. He had the grace to ratchet down his smile but no one missed the enthusiasm that still lit his blue eyes. “We all adored her but Suave and Sure of Himself over there got the girl.”

  At the mention of his teenage prowess, Liam risked a glance at Isabella. When all he saw was a broad smile in return, he figured he was on safe ground. “She was a lovely girl.”

  “Who put out.”

  “Rowan!” Abby pretended shock while Finn just shook his head next to his wife.

  “My memory’s not what it used to be but I don’t recall any post-prom sex. Or pre-prom for that matter.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend himself. He hadn’t exactly made a secret of his endless string of relationships throughout his life, but for some reason it seemed necessary to set the record straight. “Cressie confessed to me that she had the hots for someone else.”

  “Her stepbrother.” Kensington interjected before rolling her eyes. “Actually got him, too, for a few years after their parents moved on to new spouses.”

  “I have a renewed appreciation for your situation.”

  Isabella shifted next to him and Liam fought another wave of heat that ran up his side at the brush of her thigh before he focused on her comment. “What about my situation?”

  “Three siblings with long memories.”

  Campbell’s broad grin flashed in the ambient light of the streetlamps outside the limo. “We’re a bit much all piled into one place, aren’t we?”

  “I was thinking more of how you all remember everything. Almost like your own private network of information. What one forgets the other fills in.”

  “Ensuring no one has any secrets.” Jack said.

  “It’s more than that.” Isabella leaned forward and he saw that light—the same one that filled her face when they were in her lab. She loved ideas and learning and it sho
wed. “You each have different ways of complementing each other.”

  Liam saw how interest sparked across three pairs of blue eyes, all matched to his own. It was Finn, though, who spoke first. “Gangs work similarly. Each member hones a strength. Slick fingers. Wheel man. Con artist who initiates the mark. Everyone plays on a different skill to come together to get the job done.”

  “It’s efficient.” Isabella said. “And highly effective.”

  “And nosy.” Liam added, with a pointed look at Rowan.

  She stuck out her tongue before she patted Finn’s arm. “Is that why you worked alone, baby?”

  “Partly.” Finn smiled and Liam didn’t miss the glint of memory that flashed briefly across his face. “Or maybe I never found anyone who was as good as me.”

  The limo came to a stop and the tone changed immediately. The joking and easy camaraderie fled as each person in the car put their game face on.

  Since he and Isabella had been the first into their seats, they were the last out and she laid a hand on his arm before he could slide toward the door. “It’s nice, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “This. Your family.” She gestured to the now empty car. “Rowan’s the instigator. Kensington’s the mother. Campbell’s the beleaguered joker who shines a light. You all play a role.”

  “And what’s mine?”

  “You’re the foil.”

  “For what?”

  “All their admiration, love and respect. You’re their big brother, Liam, and no one ever forgets it.”

  * * *

  Isabella’s words were still rattling around his mind an hour later as waiters laid the main course down on their tables. He’d watched each of his siblings throughout the dinner and knew the truth of Isabella’s assessment. How quickly she’d sized everyone up and figured out the roles they played.

  As if to punctuate the point, Rowan’s ready laugh echoed once more as she finished telling Abby and Campbell a joke. How funny, then, that Isabella had seen what none of them had ever put into words.

  They functioned as a team and they always had. Long before the House of Steele, they were a unit.

  A family.

  Maybe that was why the loss of his parents had hit so hard. It wasn’t simply the grief—although that was significant in its own right—but they’d all had to recreate new roles.

  New lives.

  And new ways of interacting with each other.

  His gaze caught on Isabella’s delicate fingers as she reached for her wine glass and he turned to her, stilling her hand. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that.”

  “Oh. Um.” Confusion and delight filled those dark eyes in equal measure, nearly turning them black. “Thank you.”

  “You see things.”

  “So do you.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t. I watch them. You actually see what’s happening around you. It’s a special and rare gift.”

  “It’s a lifetime spent on the fringes. Add in my scientific bent toward observation and you have a recipe for constant analysis.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself.” He slid his fingers down her arm until they entwined with hers. “You have a gift.”

  “For pointing out the obvious?” The corner of her lips trembled around a small smile. “Or saying inappropriate things?”

  “Neither.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing his mouth to the soft skin. “You have a gift for pointing out what is all too easy to overlook. Thank you for making me look.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They sat there in quiet silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts as the sounds of dinner continued on unabated.

  Despite the dinner activity and conversation all around them, Liam didn’t miss the soft, subtle glances of each of his siblings.

  * * *

  Bradley Armstrong scrolled through email on his tablet, discarding some, reading others and earmarking several more for later. A small glass of whiskey sat on the table next to him and he glanced at it with fondness.

  His wife allowed him one per day, two on the weekends. Said it kept him sharp to have some indulgence but not enough to dull his mind. Funny how as a young man it had seemed like nagging yet now as he was older—as they were older together—he understood it for what it really was.

  Wisdom beyond her years.

  He had a good life. A happy one. He and Rachel had built that. Day by day, year by year, they’d built a life together. Just like he’d built the Journal of Cellular Science.

  The journal was one of the most respected in the world, unequaled in its category.

  And he’d done that.

  Built it on a sure knowledge the scientific world was changing. The community needed peer-reviewed work, but it also needed a line of sight to the world at large and he’d created that. Built a magazine first, later a website and now—with the miracle of science in full force—the majority of their readership consumed the content on a tablet or a phone.

  He’d seen it all and he still loved his job. Loved the thrill of knowing human beings could still learn something about themselves or the world around them each and every day.

  He reached for his glass, satisfied to finish off the day’s indulgence when his gaze caught on an email he’d missed—one of the few that got past the company spam filters with a title that read “Urgent, Open Now.”

  Curious, Bradley did as the note asked and nearly fumbled his whiskey glass at the contents.

  I have Isabella Magnini’s notes. There’s something you need to see.

  He might have a scientific mind, but he had a reporter’s instincts first. A note like this—one that obviously did know how to beat the spam filters—had value. And when his gaze skimmed down the note and he saw the name Daniel Stephenson, he knew he’d hit pay dirt.

  Excitement warred with confusion as he reread the note. Stephenson had died years ago. Hell, he’d gone to his memorial service.

  Those reporter’s instincts heightened once more as he played through various scenarios. Bradley knew Isabella had taken a significant risk by talking to him. Her off-the-record comments and guarded sharing of preliminary notes had indicated as much. Despite the secrecy, from the notes he read, her work was solid. And well worth the attention it would garner.

  Had Stephenson faked his own death to help her? Or was someone using his name?

  Either way, the story underneath had definite meat on its bones. Maybe it was even bigger than the joint article he’d share with the New York Times once she shared the final pieces of her research with him.

  With a hard thud, he set his glass on the end table and tapped out a reply.

  Of course. He’d be delighted to meet with Daniel. Whatever time worked best for the man.

  As he hit Send, Bradley knew the truth of the matter. He’d go to the ends of the earth for this story.

  But as luck would have it, he wouldn’t have to go much farther than downtown.

  * * *

  Isabella knew the laws of aerodynamics. She knew it was physically impossible for a person to float but as she moved over the dance floor in Liam’s arms, she was convinced she’d defied each and every one of those laws.

  Were her feet even touching the ground?

  “You’re a great dancer.”

  Liam’s husky voice, whispered against her ear, sent a shiver racing down her spine. “It was the one physical requirement my mother enforced on me. I had dancing lessons from an early age, followed by couples lessons as soon as I turned thirteen.”

  “Did your mother go to school with my mother?”

  The light tone and flash of teeth had her marveling at the difference she saw in Liam this evening. She suspected even he wasn’t fully aware of the change but it w
as there all the same.

  Danger had skirted the edges—or dive-bombed in their midst—since she met him, so it was a treat to see him relaxed and enjoying himself.

  “I don’t think they knew each other.”

  “But our grandparents do.” He stared down at her, his gaze speculative. “How is it we’ve never met before now?”

  “Maybe it’s because you’ve been busy with all those big-busted debutantes you’ve been squiring for the last two decades.”

  “Damn Campbell and Rowan,” he muttered before swinging her into a fast turn to the music’s rising tempo. “They’ve got big mouths.”

  “For which I’m grateful. Getting anything out of you is harder than splitting atoms. Which, for the record, isn’t nearly as easy as everyone now wants to believe it is.”

  “Energy is energy.”

  “Precisely. And immovable objects are hard to get moving.”

  His mouth dropped in a mock “O” of surprise. “Are you suggesting I’m the immovable object?”

  “I thought I rather eloquently stated the facts. Even used some physics to back up my argument.”

  “A sexy scientist, out to prove her point.” Heat filled his gaze as his hand tightened on her lower back and Isabella felt an answering response in the achy need of her own body.

  Who am I?

  The question caught her off guard and she nearly tripped at the thought, so wrapped up in Liam and the moment. Catching herself, she maintained her footing and stayed in the music.

  While she knew she was harder on herself than she needed to be, she also knew her circumstances had some root in her own making.

  Yes, she was a scientist and prone to introspection and the occasional lecture or two when making a point but she was a kind person. She knew how to make conversation and enjoy the company of others when she did choose to socialize.

  So when had things changed? When had she given up on her youth and the dreams that had fueled her as a girl?

  The music kicked up another notch, preventing any further conversation as they moved around the floor. His muscles flexed under her fingers and the heat of his body kept her in that permanent state of arousal, pressed so closely against her.