by Jill Shalvis
“You saw Brody.”
Her smile faded, and so did Shayne’s. “Ah, hell,” he said. “What did the big lug do now?”
“Nothing.”
He just looked at her.
“Nothing,” she repeated.
“Really? Then why is my bullshit meter ringing?”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Stop.”
Shayne let out a breath and hesitated, which was very unlike him, so much so that she braced herself. “What?”
“Okay.” He offered a smile meant to charm. “I’m the one who sent Brody to see you because to be honest . . .”
Oh, God. No. Don’t be honest . . .
“I sensed there was something going on between you two.” He watched her very carefully for a reaction, and she did her best not to give him one.
“Why would you think that?” she eventually was able to say.
“Because when you were in the hospital, I’ve never seen him so absolutely devastated. Never.”
“That was guilt.”
“Maybe. Partially. But there was more.”
“I doubt it.”
Shayne wasn’t buying it. “Look, we both know our boy has had it rough from the get-go.”
Yes. She did know. Just as she knew that Shayne had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Not Brody. Anything he’d ever had, he’d had to fight for, physically and mentally, and it’d molded him.
She knew it now more than ever.
And secretly, she admired that about him. Brody didn’t take any shit from anyone, and she admired that, too.
“Really rough,” Shayne said again quietly. “And for the most part, he’s let it all go, lets it all bounce right off him. He does that because he’s tough as nails—”
“You mean he has the hide of an elephant.”
A smile fought for a place on his mouth. “Yes, exactly. Nothing penetrates. It’s how he functions. But you . . .”
Don’t say it . . .
“You penetrated.”
“I drive him crazy,” she corrected.
“Crazy hot, maybe.”
Maddie’s composure took a hit at that because back at her house, Brody had made her pretty damn crazy hot, too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? I would have thought the kiss would explain things pretty good.”
And the direct hit. . . “What kiss?”
“Yeah, now see . . . ” Shayne looked amused as he rubbed his jaw. “Brody gave me that same look. I’m thinking you two aren’t so different after all.”
“I do not have the hide of an elephant.”
“No, you most certainly do not,” he agreed with great appreciation. “At least not on the outside. And see, that’s what I’m getting at . . .” Reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “It’s the inside I’m worried about. He doesn’t show it, Mad, but he’s vulnerable, especially to you.”
“He’s not vulnerable to anyone. Or anything.” But even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t true. She’d seen a flash of that vulnerability at her place when she’d brought up his past. The man had far more layers to him than she’d ever guessed.
“He’ll never admit it,” Shayne told her. “But you get inside. You get past that thick skin like no one else ever has.” Leaning in, he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “So be gentle with him.”
That anyone could suggest she be gentle with the six foot, four inches of solid testosterone that made up Brody West was ridiculous, and she laughed. “Come on.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s gentle with you, too.”
“I don’t need gentle.”
“Yeah, yeah. The two of you can kick ass from here to the moon and back and never admit to any vulnerabilities, I get it.” He shook his head, his eyes still amused. “Yeah, Dani was right. It’s going to be really fun watching the two of you fall.”
Okay, whoa. “I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are.” To soften the blow, he drew her in for another hug, then held her arm and looked into her eyes. “Remember, you can call me. Any of us, anytime, night or day.”
“I know. I’m not falling.”
He smiled. “Love you, Mad. Come back to us soon.” And with that, he strode off.
“I’m not falling!” She just watched him go and sighed.
Come back to us soon.
What she would give to be able to do just that, go back to the way it’d been two months ago, without any worries except whatever the hell Shayne had done to the books.
She boarded the Lear, then paced the luxurious cabin, her gaze going to the window every time she pivoted. There were other planes on the tarmac: a King Air, a Westwind, a Cessna Citation, and the Moody she knew Brody had purchased a few months back and considered his brand-new baby.
He loved this place with all his heart and soul.
And so did she: the elegant, sophisticated lobby she’d helped decorate herself, the three huge hangars that smelled like oil and gas and hopes and dreams, everything about it. She’d come to work here with her own hopes and dreams—to find a niche, to belong.
And she had found both. Here, she was home. Here, she belonged and was cared for, which had her heart catching because that would all be over. She was going to the Bahamas to somehow stop her sister from getting to Stone Cay, and then they’d execute The Plan.
Frustrated, antsy, she went to the private master suite in the back of the Lear so that she wouldn’t have to converse with her pilot. She didn’t feel talkative.
She heard him board a few minutes later, and relief filled her. Finally. But when she turned to face the door, everything inside her went still because yeah, she had a pilot all right.
The biggest bad-boy pilot of them all.
Brody stood there in the doorway in all his furious glory, of which there was lots.
Oh, God. Lots.
Eyes positively crackling with withering temper, he pointed at her.
You.
He stepped inside like he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of him, and she happened to know that was most definitely true. He really didn’t.
His stride was long-legged, easy, and confident as hell as he came toward her.
She’d have paid every penny she would ever earn in her entire life to have a fraction of that confidence. Oh, she had no doubt that she walked a good game, talked a good game, and could fake it with the best of them.
But she wanted the real thing.
Brody was the real thing. Tall, dark, and completely one-hundred-percent attitude-ridden, he stopped in front of her, legs spread, arms crossed over his chest.
Maybe he was here to wish her a good trip. Ha. And maybe Santa Claus would actually come this year.
Chapter 12
Maddie stared up at the one man she’d thought she’d never get to see again. How had he gotten his car started so quickly without keys? He was only thirty minutes behind her—
“Hot-wired it,” he said. “In case you’re wondering.”
Damn, he was good, but that didn’t explain how he knew she’d be here.
Shutting the door behind him to give them privacy, privacy she most definitely did not want, he leaned back against it, arms still crossed.
Casual pose.
Not a casual man.
“Dani ratted me out,” she guessed.
He merely arched a brow, clearly inviting her to give this more thought.
“She called Shayne,” she decided. “Shayne called you, then stalled me. Damn almost-married people, they’re all too loyal and trusting.”
“Speaking as a relatively new husband myself,” he said with a boatload of dry sarcasm, “all the trust in the room really boggles. Where’s your gun?”
She blinked. “My what?”
“I saw the bullets in your underwear drawer, Maddie. Where’s the gun to go with them?”
“You went through my panties?”
“The gun, Maddie.”
She shrugged, then winced at the movement in her
shoulder, and he went utterly still, reminding her that he was a helluva lot easier to handle when he thought she was hurting. Whether that was lingering guilt because she’d been shot here at Sky High or just simply the weight of his penis bogging him down, she had no idea, but she was going to shamelessly use it to her advantage.
She had no choice.
“You didn’t take your painkillers,” he said tightly. “Since you left before I brought them to you.”
“I’m weaning myself off them.”
“Noah said that Bailey said that your doctor said you still need them.”
“Noah and Bailey need to worry about themselves. Everyone needs to worry about themselves.”
“Shit.” Looking stymied by her very existence, he let out a long, careful breath.
Not the only one frustrated here, she understood the sentiment perfectly.
With another long exhale, he paced the length of the suite as she’d done only a moment before, then moved toward the bed where she sat, his body and all the muscles in it—of which there were tantalizingly many—moving like poetry in motion. “You’re in no shape to be flying anywhere.”
“I’m fine.” But she lay back and closed her eyes. Playing it up, even just a little, wasn’t all that hard, she discovered, since she was weak with fear for her sister. “Where’s my pilot?”
“You’re looking at him.”
Her eyes flew open. He could fly like nobody’s business; she’d seen him in action hundreds of times. He flew with concentrated proficiency, his eyes sharp, his body deceptively relaxed. But it couldn’t be him, not for this trip. “I didn’t hire you.”
“No, I hired you.”
“I’m not talking about my job, Brody, and you know it. Today, I’m a paying customer. And I paid for Jason.”
“If you’re flying anywhere today, I’m taking you.”
“Bad idea.”
“I’m your husband, remember?”
She winced. “Would you stop flinging that word around like it’s real?”
“Sure. Soon as you stop walking away from anyone and everyone who cares about you. What happened to the kick-ass Maddie Stone? Because the one I knew would never run away like a little girl.”
“I’m not running. And for the record, it’s Leena who pretended to be married to you.”
“Ah. And where is Leena?”
“She’s . . . ” She debated for a beat, then gave in. Sort of. “She’s in bigger trouble than I thought.”
“Shock.”
“I’m going to go help her.”
“Again with the I.”
Frustration had her tossing up her hands. “Brody, don’t you get it? It’s not that I don’t want you to understand what’s going on here, or that I wouldn’t rather have you with me, but that I can’t ask it of you.”
That took him back. “Why not?”
“Why not?” She sputtered for a moment, trying to figure out a good reason why not. She ended up trying something new—the whole, unadulterated truth. He deserved it. “Because I’m afraid for you. Okay? I can’t do what I have to do while I’m worried about you.”
His eyes softened, but his tough-guy stance did not. “I’m a big boy, Mad. I can take care of myself.”
Actually, she’d noticed that. In fact, with his walking-talking attitude and all that sinew-wrapped maleness oozing from his every pore, he could more than handle himself.
“You’re going to Stone Cay?”
“Yes.”
“To talk to the asshole on the phone.”
“Hopefully not, no. To stop my sister from talking to the asshole.”
“Okay.” He straightened. “I’m doing this,” he said when she opened her mouth. “You can kick my ass for it later. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
She stared up into his determined face. He had badass attitude written all over him. He wouldn’t back down. He never backed down. And suddenly, she didn’t want him to. “Take it,” she whispered.
Staying right where he was, he met her gaze evenly. Fiercely. “So we’re a unit on this. On Sister Rescue 101. Right?”
“A unit,” she agreed. For now.
“Until it’s done.”
She sighed. “Brody—”
“Until it’s done.”
He wouldn’t budge. And no matter that she wanted to do this alone, she couldn’t. “Okay, yes. Until it’s done.” Great. Yet another plan. How the hell did this keep happening to her?
With a short nod, Brody turned and left the suite without another word, and she let out a slow breath.
What had she just done?
Brody made a stop in Miami for fuel and Customs, then landed in Nassau at ten that night, just ahead of a mother of a storm that he was grateful to have missed.
Nassau, the bustling hub of the Bahamas since the shipwrecking days of Blackbeard, wasn’t really visible in the dark, but he’d been here before. The city always reminded him of any small Massachusetts town set down amongst palms and pines and iridescent sands.
Normally, calm waters and cooling trade winds were the trademark here, but not tonight. Tonight, the winds drove the treetops nearly to the ground, and though he couldn’t see the water, he could hear it, whipped into a frenzy. The air was heavy, beyond muggy, and so hot that his skin steamed.
Or that might have been lingering temper.
He’d nearly missed her. If he’d sat around with his thumb up his ass at the cabin for another ten minutes or if Shayne hadn’t stalled her . . .
Luckily, that hadn’t happened, and here he was. Letting out a breath, he grabbed Maddie’s overnight bag and his own duffel bag, and stood on the tarmac as the storm hit hard. When a bolt of lightning slashed down, followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder, the lineman who was attempting to tie down the Lear shook his head. “Got in just in time, mate.”
True. Brody had flown in worse, but not much. The clouds completely zapped out the stars and moon, and in air as thick as a down blanket, the rain came. Drenched within seconds, he looked up as Maddie came off the Lear. She’d changed into skinny jeans, boots, and a long jacket belted at her trim waist, the hood up over her head blocking her expressions from him.
She hadn’t told him jackshit. Big surprise. He might have won round one, but she wasn’t conceding the match. She’d have been just
