Dare to Love (Maxwell #3)

by S. B. Alexander

  “You’re like a cockroach that can’t be killed,” I said.

  “A lovable cockroach. That bites.” He went over to the small butcher-block island and leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankles.

  I snorted. A bite that would take me under his spell.

  Dillon stalked over and handed me the Taser. “Keep this.” Then he went to the refrigerator. “Drink?” he asked Kelton.

  “No thanks.” Kelton kept his gaze riveted on me. “Good to see you lost the wig.”

  Good to see he was still persistent as ever. I almost stuck out my tongue then thought better of it since my childish act would only fuel his fire. Which would spread, burning everyone in its wake. Dillon didn’t need that. Instead, I placed the Taser in my backpack.

  Dillon returned to his seat with a bottle of orange VitaminWater. “Are you okay with him here?” He stabbed his thumb at Kelton.

  I was beginning to really like Dillon. He respected me and my privacy.

  I shrugged. “That depends. He’s here to talk to you, not me.” I had a feeling Kelton was here to finish our conversation. “I can leave.”

  “I’m here to find out the truth, Lizzie.” Kelton’s voice hardened. “Whether you tell me or Dillon tells me. I’m not leaving until I get answers. Who are you running from?”

  “Have you stopped to think for one second that I might be running from you?” I snarled.

  Hurt washed over his face before he quickly banked it. “I get that part, but there’s something bigger going on. Let’s not forget, I haven’t done anything to you. I haven’t seen or heard from you in seven years.” He gripped the island.

  Yeah, you did. You loved me. My heart broke into a billion pieces when I moved and left you standing on the street, looking like your world had just crumbled. I’ve been carrying the burden of that image all these years.

  “You did say before he got here that you wanted my help,” Dillon said. “Unless he stole from you, which I don’t think he did, let us help.”

  Traitor.

  My gaze traveled from Kelton to Dillon then back to Kelton. I guessed it wouldn’t be so bad for both to help. I might find Terrance faster. After all, Kelton had an inside advantage since he and Zach were friends.

  “He isn’t going to leave until he gets his way,” I said in a snarky tone, glaring at the blue-eyed Adonis.

  “Tell your girlfriend to can the attitude.” One side of Kelton’s lips turned up.

  I chomped down on my tongue, when all I wanted to do was wipe the tantalizing smirk off his face. But if Kelton continued to think Dillon and I were a couple, then maybe he would leave me alone after this conversation.

  Dillon capped his VitaminWater. “First, Maxwell, drag the barstool over here and sit down.”

  Kelton scowled but obeyed the direct order. It was funny to watch him stomp around much like he had when he didn’t get his way with Mrs. Nappi in our sixth grade science class.

  “Thank you. Second, I’m not going to referee.” He turned his attention on me. “If you want him to stay, then no attitude, please. I get you two have history, but let’s cut to the chase. I need to pick up Allie and Bee in thirty minutes. And, so we’re clear, Maxwell”—his gaze lingered on me as though he was telling me he was sorry for what he was about to say—“Lizzie and I are not dating.”

  Well, darn. I didn’t have Dillon to hide behind anymore. Maybe he thought the same as I did. If we kept pretending, Kelton would keep bugging him, and while Dillon seemed to have patience, everyone had a breaking point.

  Some emotion washed over Kelton’s face that I couldn’t quite make out. Joy. Shock. Fear. Maybe all three.

  “Now, before we were interrupted,” Dillon said to me, “you were telling me about your sister, Gracie. Let’s start there.”

  Kelton straightened on the stool. It sat at least two inches higher than the bench seating at the table.

  Yeah, this was going to be harder than I’d expected. Explaining how my sister died to Dillon was one thing, easy maybe, but to Kelton? His presence alone caused a queasiness to grip my stomach. Kelton didn’t even know my parents were dead.

  I swallowed the frog in my throat. My current situation didn’t have anything to do with my sister. Keeping my eyes on Dillon, I began with, “In the event both my parents died, my dad had set up an estate for me, detailing how their 401Ks, life insurance, and other assets would be handled. He wanted—”

  “Wait. Are you saying your parents are dead?” Kelton asked in a staggered tone.

  Trying to keep my voice from wobbling, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Boating accident.”

  He reached out to grab my wrist. I put my hands in my lap. If I was going to tell the story without shedding a tear, I couldn’t have Kelton touching me. I’d start bawling then more than likely jump into his arms. Neither of those actions would help to get my money back.

  Kelton mumbled something before he asked, “Gracie, too?”

  Dillon’s face was void of any emotion. So I concentrated on him.

  “No. Gracie wasn’t with them. Anyway, my dad had outlined specific instructions for the trustee of their estate. Make sure I go to college, and make sure I get a monthly stipend for living expenses while in college. About a month ago, the university contacted me to let me know my tuition payment was overdue. I contacted the trustee, but he never returned my calls. So I went to his place of employment. Gone. I went to his house. Empty. When I checked my bank account, I also found my monthly allowance had stopped. I knew he had a son who was at BU. So I came to Boston in hopes I could find the man who ran off with my money.”

  Kelton made an odd noise in the back of his throat. “Let me guess. Zach is the son.”

  Dillon darted his gaze to Kelton, as did I. He shrugged with an I’m-not-an-idiot look.

  “Yeah. His father and mine were good friends.” I took a swig of tea.

  “How much are we talking about?” Kelton hunched forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “A million,” I said, low.

  Kelton and Dillon gasped.

  I continued. “Today, Zach informed me that his father is a gambler. He gambled away Zach’s college fund.” Fury burned within me, hot and bright, causing sweat to bead on my neck. “And now my entire inheritance is probably gone. I have to find him. I owe the university money and rent to a landlord.” I could’ve paid my rent, but the money I’d had left I’d had to use sparingly until I could get this issue resolved. “Or else an angry Latino man will be hunting me down. Anyway, I went to the cops and filed a statement, but there are more deadly crimes for them to investigate. Plus, I can’t prove it.”

  “So you know this dude?” Dillon asked Kelton.

  “Zach’s my roommate. His old man is a gambler. Mostly poker. High-stakes poker.” He lifted his ball cap, combed his fingers through his messy black hair, then placed the hat back on his head.

  “And you,” Dillon said to me. “That’s why you wanted a gun?”

  “I planned to hold Terrance Malden at gunpoint until he gave me my money back. Or hold his son hostage.” Saying all that out loud sounded more farfetched than it did in my head.

  Kelton chuckled. “Terrance doesn’t give a shit about Zach.”

  “Well, Sherlock, you got a plan? You said you had connections. You said you wanted to help.” My tone came out way more caustic than I’d intended.

  “It’s hard to threaten a guy who doesn’t have the money,” Dillon said.

  “Did your father set up one trust or two?” Kelton asked.

  I looked at him cross-eyed. My parents and I had never spoken about trusts or wills. After Gracie died, we hadn’t talked about death at all, let alone any legal stuff.

  He straightened then began bouncing a knee. “You said at the beginning that your parents had 401Ks.”

  “Um. That’s right.” I checked on Dillon, who shrugged.

  “Last summer, when I worked at a law firm, I learned that 401K accounts could be handled differently. The client ha
s to request a separate trust. Otherwise, upon death, the money is paid out in a lump sum payment to the beneficiary. This client I worked with set up a separate trust for his 401Ks so that his children would be paid in installments when they reached a certain age. If your parents have a separate trust for their 401Ks, Terrance can’t touch those. He could only touch the cash in your bank account.” He explained all this like a proficient attorney.

  Honestly, I couldn’t say for sure if my parents had one trust or five. I did, however, know that my father’s lawyer had given Terrance a binder of documents. Shortly after the funeral, Terrance and I had met with Mr. Pilkington. He’d gone through the details. The problem was I hadn’t listened close enough to remember much, except that I was set financially. It wasn’t until a week later when my head was a little clearer that I’d asked Terrance questions. He’d told me not to worry. He would handle college payments, depositing a monthly check into my bank account, and at twenty-one I’d have full access to all the funds in the estate. “You concentrate on graduating college. That’s what your parents wanted most for you,” he’d said.

  “I talked to Mr. Pilkington after I talked to the cops,” I said to Kelton. “He said he would contact Terrance, and then call me when he did. I haven’t heard back yet.” Then again, I’d tried him one last time before I left for Boston. His secretary had said he was extremely busy with a court case.

  I wanted to scream at myself for not paying closer attention. At the same time, I wanted to plant kisses all over Kelton. Then I had to get my hands on that binder. Well, binder first then plant kisses on Kelton.

  As if he knew what I’d been thinking, Kelton asked, “Do you have a copy of the legal documents?”

  “No. Mr. Pilkington had one binder with all the instructions for the Trustee. He said if I needed anything I could always contact him. And since Terrance had been following through on his duties as far as I could tell, I didn’t need to question things.” I bit the inside of my mouth.

  Kelton hopped off the barstool. “Then contact the attorney who drew up the documents. Have him send copies to you. I’ll go through them. In the meantime, I’ll find out from Zach where his old man is. Dillon, do you know any underground poker joints in Boston or the surrounding states, aside from the casinos? Sometimes the man is in the area without telling Zach. We ran into him once at a concert at a Connecticut casino when he was supposed to be in Florida.”

  “I can do some digging,” Dillon said. “But what do you have in mind when you find him?”

  I’d thought of many things to do to the man, but none of them were within the law.

  “I haven’t gotten that far,” Kelton said. “I really would like to see the legal paperwork first. And I want to talk to Zach. He can contact his old man.”

  I made the time-out signal. “Wait. If you tell Zach everything I just told you, he might tell his father to stay in hiding. How do you know he’ll help us?”

  “I don’t. But Zach has been trying to get his father to quit his gambling habit for years. And I don’t think Zach is even aware his old man has been stealing from innocent people. Which begs the question. If your father and his were friends, does Zach know you? Is that why you were in disguise?”

  “Zach and I met once, briefly, years ago. I doubt he would remember me. Still, I didn’t want to take that chance.”

  Dillon glanced at his watch. “Whatever I can do to help. Right now I need to pick up Allie and Bee from work.” He glanced at me. “Can I give you a ride back into Boston? Or you’re welcome to stay here.”

  I rose, taking my cup of tea to the sink. “I should get back to the hostel and try to call the lawyer.”

  “What?” Kelton asked. “You’re staying at a hostel?”

  “Lizzie,” Dillon said, opening the fridge door. “Please move out of the hostel and stay here. There’s an extra room. Allie and Bee would love it.”

  “Or,” Kelton said as he drew closer, “you can stay with me. You saw the mansion Zach and I are in. That place has five bedrooms.”

  I volleyed my gaze back and forth like a spectator at a riveting tennis match until my mouth fell open at Kelton’s offer. Me stay with Kelton? Not a chance.

  He gave me one of his toothy grins. My belly erupted with fluttering butterflies. Nope, not happening.

  Dillon laughed. “Yeah, and you two would be fighting like caged animals. Besides, given that Maxwell lives with the enemy’s son, not the brightest idea.”

  I agreed. Not only that, I was tired of the hostel. More importantly, I wouldn’t trust myself with Kelton. I’d be the one to slink into his room at night, if only for him to hold me. Yeah, right. There’d be a lot more than holding.

  “Dillon asked first, and he’s right,” I said. “It would be awkward to wake up to find Terrance in the house if he showed up to see Zach.”

  Kelton studied me with steely blue eyes. The family atmosphere between Dillon and the girls was something I hadn’t had in quite some time, and I could use the quietness of my own bedroom to think.

  “Good,” Dillon said with a smile that warmed my heart. “Use my office in the basement to call the lawyer. I’ll be back later.” He shifted his gaze to Kelton. “You’re welcome to hang.” Then he grabbed a set of keys off the desk and slipped out through a doorway at the far end of the kitchen.

  Once we were alone, silence hung heavy in the room as Kelton sized me up. Suddenly, my pulse was all over the place. Seven years of separation. Now, six feet. My gaze roamed over him—up then down and back up. When our eyes met—or more like collided—a beam of tingles shot straight to my toes. Need, want, hurt, and confusion were written all over his handsome face.

  I cleared the emotion in my throat. “Cat got your tongue?”

  He just stared, cocking his head slightly as though he had a thousand questions. No doubt he did. But if he wasn’t going to talk, I had things to do. More like I had to regroup. The kitchen walls were closing in on me. At any moment, seven years of my life were about to combust, and I wasn’t ready for the aftermath. Not yet, anyway. So I went in search of Dillon’s office.

  13

  Kelton

  Lizzie walked away, her backside swaying, her long, dark hair almost touching the waist of her jeans. Once she was out of sight, I pushed all the air out of my lungs. I was a complete jackass for staring at her as if I wanted to strip her naked. Even if I did, I wasn’t there to get Lizzie in bed. No fucking way. What scared me? She and Dillon weren’t an item. That door was open. Fucking wide open. I didn’t trust myself. I couldn’t risk what would happen if I kissed her. Nor could I risk the rejection if she pushed me away. Yet every muscle in me wanted to taste her sweet lips. I also wanted to comfort her for the loss of her parents. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay. Like I did when we were kids. It was clear she didn’t want pity. I got that. I hated that emotion myself. But my desire to hold her was far from pity. I wanted to protect her. Yeah, alone with her in this house spelled disaster on all levels.

  Pulling out my keys, I jogged to my Jeep. The cold was a relief from the heat radiating off me. As I pounded the pavement, I sifted through her story—Zach’s loser father, a million dollars, her parents, a hostel, her plan to hold Zach hostage. Holy hell. This was like something out of a movie, only not one with a happy ending. And I thought Lacey’s Italian mob grandfather and Russian mob uncle were screwed up.

  I growled. A headache was lurking. I was reminded of Kade when he ended up in the hospital from one of his migraines. Not that I was prone to migraines, but fuck. Dillon was right. Confronting Zach’s father wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t fork over the money, especially if he didn’t have it. Just like an alcoholic wouldn’t give anyone his bottle of booze. Lizzie said she’d already gone to the cops. I wasn’t surprised the law was slow to react, if at all. They probably had more urgent cases to solve. Then something dawned on me. She was enrolled in art class. Had she been at BU all this time? Focus, numbnuts.

  I grasp
ed the back of my neck when my phone buzzed. Leaning against my Jeep, I snagged it out of my jeans pocket. “What’s up, bro?”

  “Did you talk to Lizzie?” Kade asked. “Are she and her family up to visiting Mom?”

  “Uh. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I didn’t think it would be the best for my mom to hear that Lizzie’s parents were dead.

  “Kel, this isn’t about you. This is about Mom. Visiting with Gracie and the Reardons could help close the door on the past.”

  Or it could blow it wide open in a bad way. I shrugged, thinking we could never close the door on the past. Death wasn’t something one got over, not as deeply as it was implanted in my family.

  “I know that.” I gritted my teeth. “Lizzie has bigger problems at the moment. Her parents died in a boating accident, and the trustee of her parents’ estate ran off with her money. And the kicker? The trustee is Zach’s old man.”

  “What the fuck? And Gracie?”

  “Not sure.” I was still processing everything Lizzie had told Dillon and me. However, she’d said Gracie hadn’t been with her parents. If that was the case, then where was she?

  “Bro,” Kade said, “I know I’ve been a dick about you not seeing Lizzie. I’m sorry. I panicked. Mom is… You get it. Anyway, what can we do to help?”

  “I’m still thinking.” Although running out on her wasn’t helping. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I righted my ball cap as I trudged back into the house. I had to put aside my own fears. This wasn’t about me, and as much as I loved my mother, Lizzie needed our help.

  Dillon’s house was quiet save for the heat kicking on. I found my way down into the musty basement. As my feet touched the cement floor, Lizzie’s voice trickled out of a room directly ahead of me. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach at the way she giggled, bringing back memories of summer, the tree house, and her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said. “Sure. It’s a date.”

  I balled my hands into fists. Cool your jets. She isn’t yours. Tell that to my heart. Walking into the room, I expected to see her sitting at a desk. She was relaxing on a chaise longue similar to the one my mom had in her bedroom, picking at something on the chair. I stopped, drinking in every inch of her. Her long legs were crossed at the ankle. Her boots were off, exposing rainbow-striped toe socks. When she wiggled her toes, I had the urge to rub her small feet and keep going all the way up to explore, massage, and have my way until she was putty in my hands. Man, I was screwed. I cleared my throat before my blood shot south. It wouldn’t look good if I stood there like a moron with a fucking hard-on.