by Addison Fox
“You’re not in this for a quick score. And you’ve been concerned about Mrs. Beauregard every step of the way. We’ll find what’s here and then we’ll handle it.”
Violet and Lilah came up behind her, support that flanked her from both sides. Although they’d kept their distance throughout his exchange with Cassidy, he knew the women hadn’t missed the discussion.
“Whatever’s here isn’t about us.” Lilah wrapped her arm around Cassidy’s shoulders. “Yeah, it’s fun to talk about, but it’s not ours, nor was it meant to be.”
“We’ll deal like we always do and move on,” Violet said. “And then we’re going to go back to creating Dallas’s best weddings.”
Max walked out of the kitchen, his face grim.
“What is it?” Violet spoke first, her concerned tone in opposition to the usual animosity that sparked between the two of them.
“That was my grandfather. We need to get to the hospital right now.”
Chapter 8
Cassidy walked the same antiseptic halls they’d left a few hours before, fear and anxiety tying her stomach up in a tight knot.
Just like before. Just like before. Just like before.
The words had played a litany in her mind from the moment Max had told them of his grandfather’s call.
She’d worked so hard to actively put that time out of her mind, yet it had found her once more.
Was a person supposed to experience that sort of grief twice in one lifetime? Watching those they cared about become victims of senseless violence?
A whirl of voices surrounded her as she and Tucker stepped off the elevator with Max. Although it had killed Lilah and Violet to stay behind, the half-deconstructed floor needed tending.
And though she’d developed a fear of guns long ago, when Cassidy had seen the Glock Max had left behind for added protection, she’d taken her first easy breath since they’d made the decision to dig up the floor.
“Do you know if Mrs. Beauregard has anyone to look after her?”
She smiled immediately, recalling images of the endless parade of individuals celebrating holidays, summer picnics and major college football games at Josephine Beauregard’s house. “Only about half the city of Dallas.”
As the reality of her surroundings struck, pain radiated from her chest, quelling the smile as hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She’d stayed strong since the day before, but the sudden realization Mrs. B. might no longer be with them hit harder than she could have ever imagined.
When Tucker’s arms came around her, she turned into his chest, grateful for the warmth and support.
His large hand rolled circles over her back, and she clung to his waist, desperate to shake the memories that had suddenly risen up with fierce claws.
“Shh. It’s okay.”
Cassidy registered the murmured voices above her head as Tucker and Max exchanged words. With a gentle pat, he shifted to stare at her. “Max is going to go check in on Mrs. B. Why don’t you and I go outside to get some air?”
“I need to see her.”
“You obviously need a minute. They will only let a few into ICU at a time anyway so let him get the lay of the land. His grandfather’s already up there.”
“Okay.” She whispered the word and couldn’t quite stop the relief that filled her. While she wanted to see Mrs. B. for herself, the extra time to prepare was welcome. They’d rushed out of Elegance and Lace so quickly, it wasn’t until they’d walked through the doors of the hospital that it had occurred to her what Mrs. B. might look like lying in a bed designed for critical care.
And Cassidy didn’t care for the images currently crowding her overactive mind.
They took the quick trip back down the elevators before Tucker walked them toward a small garden outside the front of the hospital. Benches and small tables were strategically positioned to give people both privacy and a space to escape and enjoy the air.
The evening sun hadn’t yet set and the air had a hot, tight feel that she’d never felt anywhere else but Texas. A light breeze whipped her hair, and she let the accumulated warmth of day seep into her bones.
The garden was quiet, the late-afternoon heat keeping most away, and she and Tucker took the first bench they found. Once they settled, his previous words tugged a string she’d wondered about earlier. “What was Max Senior doing here?”
“I don’t know. I think he and your Mrs. B. are tight.”
“Violet’s persisted since we moved into the space that the two of them had a fling once upon a time.”
“Maybe they’re still flinging.”
Although the thought filled her with happiness for her dear friend, she wasn’t quite sure someone as infatuated with love as Mrs. Beauregard could have kept a secret like that to herself.
“Vi is sure, but why keep it a secret? It’s not like there’s anyone hanging around to disapprove.”
“Not everyone loves putting their personal life on display.”
“Yes, but...” A protest sprang to her lips, but she let it drop. The past few days had proven she didn’t know everything about her landlady. Truth be told, she was fast coming to suspect she knew very little at all.
And hadn’t that been a running theme of her life?
Cassidy knew the thought was maudlin—and horribly self-involved—but try as she might, she couldn’t fully shake it off. Her entire life she’d underestimated others. Had taken them at face value even while they held all their cards behind their backs.
Her family. Robert. Now Mrs. B.
And her sister, most of all.
Which only took her right back to where she started with that dull panic that had assailed her the moment she walked into the emergency room.
Would the guilt ever go away?
She hadn’t known—or tried to understand—the horrors of her sister’s life. Hadn’t understood that all wasn’t right with Leah Tate McCallum’s seemingly perfect world until it was too late.
And with those memories flashing through her mind, a hot wave of tears spilled over almost immediately.
“Cassidy?”
Her name floated on the evening breeze, whisper soft. The urge to trust him—and tell him of the grief that never subsided—rose up nearly as fast as the tears, but did she dare?
She didn’t know him. They were complete strangers, beyond sharing a few moments of pulse-pounding adrenaline and a soul-crushing kiss. So why did it feel like they’d known each other forever?
“What is it?”
“It’s too horrible.” Fear pulsed in a rapid counterpoint to the heavy thuds of her heartbeat, the thought of rehashing the events of three years ago filling her with dread.
“You can tell me.” He hesitated, and she didn’t miss the hard catch in his throat when he finally spoke. “I understand horrible.”
* * *
Tucker watched the play of emotions cross Cassidy’s face and marveled once again at how strong she was. Pain radiated off her in waves, yet a core of strength shone from her vivid, water-filled blue gaze. And in that moment, he knew.
She was a survivor.
Wondering what she’d survived, however, had gripped him with a cold fist at the base of his spine.
What had she lived through?
“You can tell me. I hope you know that. Whatever happened to you, you can tell me.”
“Nothing happened to me.”
“Cassidy—”
She held up a hand. “Something happened to someone I loved.”
“It’s still something that happened to you.”
A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, their thick wetness heavy on her cheeks. Helpless, he pulled her close once more, at a loss for any other way to comfort her. She went willingly, her slim frame fitting tight against
his shoulder.
Although a crying female terrified him far more than mudslides, sniper bullets or demolition equipment that wouldn’t detonate, he vowed to himself he’d stay there as long as she needed.
The storm passed almost as quickly as it had started and he felt the tremors subside a few minutes later. What he couldn’t disregard was the heavy wash of grief that had settled over her.
“I’m sorry if I churned up bad memories. Or asked you something you weren’t ready to share.” She wiped at tears before reaching into her massive purse for a tissue. Although he wanted to know who or what had hurt her, when he saw the opportunity to lighten the moment, he took it.
“You could hide Bailey in that bag.”
The joke did its job, and he was rewarded by a soft, throaty laugh. “It’s not that big.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Tucker poked at the purse, making a show of it, pleased when he was rewarded with another laugh and a smile. “If I laid off the bones I think he’d fit.”
“He’s not fat!”
The immediate defense of his crazy mutt warmed his heart, and he couldn’t resist pulling her close in a tight hug. “I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated a moment, her watery gaze reflecting the late-afternoon light. “Really. Thank you.”
The sun had nearly completed its day’s journey, and the last layers of golden light framed the rich red of her hair in a vivid halo.
Halos?
The thoughts that had haunted him while working the concrete came tumbling back stronger than before, and the urge to shake his head like a befuddled cartoon character gripped him. Although he might have tried it to break the tension, he found himself unable to look away, his gaze locked with hers.
Once again, Tucker was reminded of the strength that lived inside her. Saw that steely core forged in those depths of blue.
That gaze drew him in—pulled him closer—but Cassidy was the one to close the distance between them. Her lips pressed to his, and in moments the late-afternoon heat that surrounded them was nothing compared to the heat that raged between them.
His tongue slipped between her lips, and she opened more fully to him on a dark gasp of pleasure. Obviously unwilling to play the passive miss, she sucked him into her mouth, her tongue tangling with his. A growl of need echoed low in his throat as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her more tightly against his body.
Her hands lay flat against his chest, twin brands that nearly melted through the cotton of his shirt. The need to cradle her and devour her raged like a fever in his blood and he couldn’t imagine how this small slip of a woman had come to mean so much in such a short period of time.
A loud eruption of giggles broke the moment, and Tucker pulled away from Cassidy to find two teenagers standing at the far edge of the garden. Balloons and stuffed animals filled their hands, and he saw the mix of shock and titillation in their eager faces.
“Excuse us.” Tucker offered up a small smile before patting Cassidy on the arm. “We should probably get inside and see to Mrs. B.”
“I think you’re right.”
He kept his arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders as they walked the short garden path back to the hospital lobby but Tucker didn’t miss the whispered “he’s hot”—or the creeping heat that traveled up his neck—before another round of giggles echoed behind their backs.
Cassidy fell against him in a heap of her own laughter the moment the sliding doors closed behind them.
“It’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is.”
“That’s the first time my kissing skills have been met with a rash of giggles.”
“Take it as a compliment.”
“A compliment?”
“Of course. I’m sure George Clooney, for instance, elicits giggles everywhere he goes.”
Another round of laughter escaped her, and she clutched at his arm as they walked back into the hospital lobby. Tucker felt another wave of heat flame up his neck and was grateful for the cool air. “I’m quite sure George Clooney doesn’t have to deal with evaluation of his technique.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve done plenty of evaluating sitting in darkened movie theaters watching George.”
He turned toward her as they reached the elevator, pleased to see the smile had returned to her eyes. Although their impending visit to the ICU ensured it would be short-lived, it was good to see her enjoying a lighthearted moment.
He brushed a thumb over the ridge of her cheekbone and captured a last, lingering tear. The urge to wrap her in his arms and keep her from what inevitably came next was strong, but he knew the path wasn’t his to walk.
The elevator doors swooshed open as if reinforcing his thoughts and her smile faded, along with her lingering laughter. “It’s time to go up.”
“You’ll feel better once you see Josephine with your own eyes.”
“Max would have told us if it was bad. Would have texted you or come to find us or something.”
“I’m sure he would have.” For all his friend’s curmudgeonly ways, Tucker knew with certainty Max would have found a way to soften the blow if Josephine Beauregard was doing worse than they expected.
On a hard nod, Cassidy stepped through the door, then turned and extended her hand. “Let’s go.”
It was several minutes later before Tucker realized he’d never found out what secret she was running from.
* * *
Charlie placed the call, even as an epic battle waged within his conscience. Technically, he had no real information to share beyond some pulled shades and demolition equipment. But it didn’t take a genius to make a connection between what they all suspected lay in the old warehouse on Dragon Street and those demolition tools.
Of course, he’d already been read the riot act by the boss over the goons the man had sent to investigate at the hospital.
Like it was his fault they didn’t know how to be discreet. He had made it perfectly clear the old woman hadn’t seen his face and he’d made it equally clear that his sister-in-law was completely clueless to his involvement. Did they listen?
Nope.
Instead, they thought it was a good idea to look like a pack of MIB agents scoping out the hospital on advance recon.
Charlie shook his head and downed the last of his latte. He’d picked it up at a local place around the corner from Cassidy’s shop and it wasn’t nearly as good as the frothy chocolate he got at Starbucks every morning. He glanced at the cup before tossing it out his window. Why had he even bothered? You couldn’t beat perfection.
You also couldn’t beat biding your time while you held a handful of aces.
He’d sat on this one for a while, waiting until the time was right. Until he had the right partners. And, most important, until he knew for a fact his sister-in-law would have no idea he was involved.
The bitch barely tolerated him, and her view of him was about two notches below gum on her shoe. She had no idea he’d broken into that crappy cottage she lived in with the equally crappy locks on the doors. As far as she knew, he’d made himself scarce since her sister went and offed herself three years ago and he was just fine with that.
“Yes?”
That single word snapped through the phone, and a distinct chill ran in waves over his spine. Charlie wondered—not for the first time—if he’d made a mistake pairing up with the Duke. The man had power, connections and belief, which, as far as Charlie was concerned, was essential for this op.
But there were times he wondered if the man had too much belief. He treated the damn op like a freaking quest as opposed to what it really was: a nice score that would hold him over until his next scam.
“I have some news I think you’ll be interested in.”
“I doubt it.”
> Cool disdain wrapped around each word, and Charlie fought to hold back his temper. “You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”
“I listened to you yesterday, didn’t I? I’m not interested in incomplete missions.”
“But the old woman didn’t see me.”
“You claim that, but I’m not so sure. But don’t worry yourself. I’ve already handled your mess from yesterday afternoon.”
Handled?
A short burst of panic bloomed in Charlie’s chest. While he had no lingering love for the Saint of Swiss Avenue, as he thought of Mrs. Beauregard, he also knew the power the woman wielded. Her death would slow things down, and while it might distract Cassidy from her shop, it would also generate questions for anyone paying attention.
The old bat might be old, but she was spry and well cared for. The moment anyone made a connection between her house break-in and her dying, there’d be a race for answers.
“What do you mean, handled? Did you kill her already?”
“Not yet.” After a beat of silence, the Duke spoke once more. “What did you learn?”
Another slow slide of nerves stamped themselves on his spine with icy fingers, and Charlie rushed through the information he’d gleaned on his late-afternoon stakeout. He kept his voice level, just like he had three years ago with the police, and answered question after question.
Don’t think, just answer. Calm. Cool. Rational.
Yes, the women had help.
Yes, the men appeared to carry demolition equipment.
Yes, he saw them leave a short while ago.
It was several moments later, long after he’d hung up, that he realized he’d just given away his whole hand.
* * *
Exhausted by the day, Cassidy let the quiet beeping of machines fill her thoughts. She’d kept watch on both Mrs. B. and Max Senior for the past few hours and her surreptitious glances at Max’s grandfather confirmed he was as worn-out as her dear friend.
She’d avoided pressing too hard but curiosity finally got the best of her. They’d already talked about how hot the summer was, a cute new restaurant in the Design District and how long the man had made Dallas his home.
