The Stanislaski Series Collection, Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  “Oh.”

  “I wish I had had more time….” She touched match to wick and watched the candle flare. “He caught me between phone calls and before a plea-bargaining meeting.”

  He watched her move around the room in her practical terry-cloth robe, turning the light into romance with her candles. He wondered if she realized how compelling that contrast was. “You don’t have to explain to me, Rachel.”

  She shook out a match, struck another. It wasn’t that she was superstitious, but there was no use taking chances with three on a match. “I have to explain to myself. He wanted to go to lunch, and I just couldn’t swing it. I did talk to him about…the situation.”

  “About the fact that he’s fallen in lust with you.”

  “I wouldn’t put it like that.” She sighed heavily when the intercom buzzed. After flipping it on, she released the security lock for the delivery boy. “He’s simply misinterpreted gratitude and friendship.”

  Zack took one long look at her in the candleglow. “Whatever you say.”

  Disgusted, she went back to the table and sat. “You’re buying, Muldoon.”

  He took out his wallet agreeably. He had the tab and the tip ready when the delivery arrived. After carrying three bulging bags to the table, he unpacked the little white cartons. In moments the air was filled with exotic aromas.

  “Do you want to tell me the rest?”

  “Well…” Rachel wound some noodles around her chopsticks. “I started off explaining the difference in our ages. Umm…” She chewed appreciatively. “He didn’t buy it,” she said over a mouthful. “He had a very convincing argument, and since I couldn’t override it, I changed tactics.”

  “I’ve seen you in court,” he reminded her.

  “I explained the ethics of my being his guardian, and how it wasn’t possible for us to go beyond those terms.” Thoughtful, she scooped up some sweet and sour pork. “He seemed to understand that.”

  “Good.”

  “I thought it was. I mean, he agreed with me. He was very mature about it. Then, when he was leaving, he said how it wasn’t so hard to wait five more weeks.”

  Zack said nothing for a moment. Then, with a half laugh, he picked up his wine. “You’ve got to give the kid credit.”

  “Zack, this is serious.”

  “I know. I know. It’s sticky for both of us, but you have to admire the way he turned it around on you.”

  “I told you he was smooth.” After peeking in another carton, she nibbled on some chilled chicken and bean sprouts. “Don’t you know any nice teenage girls you could nudge in his direction?”

  “Lola’s got one,” Zack said, considering. “I think she’s sixteen.”

  “Lola has a teenager?”

  “Three of them. She likes to say she started young so that she could lose her mind before she turned forty. I can feel her out about it.”

  “It couldn’t hurt. I’m going to try again, though I’m hoping the feeling will pass in another week or two.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.” Reaching across the table, he linked his fingers with hers. “You stick in a man’s mind.”

  “Does that mean you’re thinking of me when you’re mixing drinks and flirting with the customers?”

  “I never flirt with Pete.”

  She laughed. “I was thinking more of those two ‘babes’ who drop in. The blonde and the redhead. They always order stingers.”

  “You are observant, Counselor.”

  “The redhead’s got her big green eyes on you.”

  “They’re blue.”

  “A-ha!”

  He shook his head, amazed he’d fallen so snugly into the trap. “It pays to know your regulars. Besides, I like brown eyes—especially when they lean toward gold.”

  She let his lips brush hers. “Too late.” With her head close to his, she laughed again. “It’s all right, Muldoon. I can always borrow Rio’s meat cleaver if you notice more than her eyes.”

  “Then I’m safe. I’ve never paid any attention to those cute little freckles over her nose. Or that sexy dimple in her chin.”

  Eyes narrowed, Rachel bit his lip. “Get any lower, and you’ll be in deep water.”

  “That’s okay. I’m a strong swimmer.”

  * * *

  Hours later, when Zack crawled into a cold, empty bed, he warmed himself by thinking of it. It had been nice, just nice, to laugh together over the cardboard boxes and chopsticks. They’d sampled each other’s choices, talking while the candles had burned low. Not about Nick, not about work, but about dozens of other things.

  Then they’d made love again, slowly, sweetly, while the night grew late around them.

  He’d had to leave her. He had responsibilities. But as he settled his body toward sleep, he let his mind wander, imagining what it could be like.

  Waking up with her. Feeling her stretch against him as the alarm rang. Watching her. Smiling to himself as she hurried around the apartment, getting dressed for work.

  She’d be wearing one of those trim suits while they stood in the kitchen sharing coffee, talking over their plans for the day.

  Sometimes they’d steal a quick lunch together, because they both hated to have a whole day pass without touching. When he could, he’d slip away from work so that he could walk home with her in the evening. When he couldn’t, he’d look forward to seeing her come through the door, slide onto a stool at the bar, where she’d eat Rio’s chili and flirt with him.

  Then they would go home together.

  One balmy weekend they would set sail together. He’d teach her how to man the tiller. They’d glide out over blue water, with the sails billowing….

  * * *

  The waves were high as mountains, rearing up to slap viciously at the ship. The bellow of the wind was like a thousand women screaming. Burying a fear that he knew could be as destructive as the gale, he scrambled over the pitching deck, clinging to the slippery rail as he shouted orders.

  The rain was lashing his face like a whip, blinding him. His red-rimmed eyes stung from the salt water. He knew the boat was out there—radar had it—but all he could see was wall after wall of deadly water.

  The next wave swamped the deck, sucking at him. Lightning cracked the sky like a bullet through glass. The ship heeled. He saw the seaman tumble, heard the shout as his hands scrambled on the deck for purchase. Zack leaped, snagging a sleeve, then a wrist.

  A line. For God’s sake, get me a line.

  And he was dragging the dead weight back from the rail.

  Wind and water. Wind and water.

  There, in a flash of lightning, was the disabled boat. Lower the tow line. Make it fast. As the lightning stuttered against the dark, he could see three figures. They’d lashed themselves on—a man to the wheel, a woman behind him, a young girl to the mast.

  They were fighting, valiantly, but a forty-foot boat was no match for the fury of a hurricane at sea. It was impossible to send out a launch. He had to hope one of them could hold the boat steady while another secured the tow.

  Signal lights flashed instructions through the storm.

  It happened fast. Another spear of lightning, and the mast cracked, falling like a tree under an ax. Horrified, he watched the young girl being dragged with it into the swirling water.

  No time to think. Pure instinct had Zack grabbing a flotation device and diving into the face of the storm.

  Falling, falling, endlessly, while the gale tumbled his body like dice in a gambler’s hand. Black, pitch-black, then the white flare of lightning. Hitting a wall of water that felt like stone. Having it close relentlessly over your head. Like death.

  Zack awoke gasping for air and choking against the nightmare water. Sweat had soaked through to the sheets, making him shiver in the chill. With a groan, he let his head fall back and waited for the first grinding ache of nausea to pass.

  The room tilted once as he staggered to his feet. From past experience, Zack knew to close his eyes until it righted agai
n. Moving through the dark, he went into the bathroom to splash the cold sweat from his face.

  “Hey, you okay?” Nick was hovering in the doorway. “You sick or something?”

  “No.” Zack cupped a hand near the faucet, catching enough water to ease his dry throat. “Go back to bed.”

  Nick hesitated, studying Zack’s pale face. “You look sick.”

  “Damn it, I said I’m fine. Beat it.”

  Nick’s eyes darkened with angry hurt before he swung away.

  “Hey, wait. Sorry.” Zack let out a long breath. “Nightmare. Puts me in a lousy mood.”

  “You had a nightmare?”

  “That’s what I said.” Embarrassed, Zack snatched up a towel to dry off.

  It was hard for Nick to imagine big, bad Zack having a nightmare, or anything else that would make him sweat and go pale. “Uh, you want a drink?”

  “Yeah.” Steadier now, Zack lowered the towel. “There’s some of the old man’s whiskey in the kitchen.”

  After a moment, Zack followed Nick out. He sat on the arm of a chair while Nick splashed three fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. He took it, swallowed, then hissed. “I can’t figure out how he had a liver left at the end.”

  Nick wished he’d pulled pants over his briefs. At least he’d have had pockets to dip his hands into. “I think when he started to forget stuff, it helped him to blame it on the whiskey instead of—you know.”

  “Alzheimer’s. Yeah.” Zack took another swallow, let it lie on his tongue a moment so that his throat could get used to the idea.

  “I heard you thrashing around in there. Sounded pretty bad.”

  “It was pretty bad.” Zack tilted the glass, watched the whiskey lap this way and that. “Hurricane. One mean bitch. I never understood why they started naming them after guys, too. Take it from me, a hurricane’s all woman.” He let his head fall back again, let his eyes close. “It’s been nearly three years, and I haven’t been able to shake this lady.”

  “You want to—” Nick cut himself off. “That should help you sleep.”

  Zack knew what Nick had wanted to ask. And he did want to. It might be best for both of them if they talked it through. “We were off of Bermuda when we got the distress call. We were the closest ship, and the captain had to make a choice. We turned back into the hurricane. Three civilians in a pleasure boat. They’d been thrown off course and hadn’t been able to make it to shore before the storm hit.”

  Saying nothing, Nick sat on the arm of the couch so that he was facing his brother.

  “Seventy-five knot winds, and the seas—they must have been forty feet. I’ve been through a hurricane after it’s made landfall. It can be bad, real bad, but it’s nothing like it is when it’s at sea. You don’t know scared until you see something like that. Hear something like that. The lieutenant took a rap on the head, it put him out. We came close to losing some of the crew over the side. Sometimes it was black, so black you couldn’t see your own hands—but you could see that water rising up. Then the lightning would hit, and blind you.”

  “How were you supposed to find them in all that?”

  “We had them on radar. The quartermaster could’ve slipped that ship through the crack of dawn. He was good. We spotted them, thirty degrees off to starboard. They’d tied the kid—little girl—to the main mast. The man and woman were fighting to keep it afloat, but they were taking on water fast. We had time. I remember thinking we could pull it off. Then the mast cracked. I thought I heard the girl scream, but it was probably the wind, because she went under pretty quick. So I went in.”

  “You went in?” Nick repeated, wide-eyed. “You jumped in the water?”

  “I was over the side before I thought about it. I wasn’t being a hero, I just didn’t think. Believe me, if I had…” He let the words trail off, then swallowed the rest of the whiskey. “It was like jumping off a skyscraper. You don’t think you’re ever going to stop falling. It was end over end, forever, giving you plenty of time to realize you’ve just killed yourself. It was stupid—if the wind had been wrong it would have just smashed me against the side of the ship. But I was lucky, and it tossed me toward the boat. Then I hit. God, it was like ramming full-length into concrete.”

  He hadn’t known until later that he’d snapped his collarbone and dislocated his left shoulder.

  “I couldn’t get my bearings. The water kept heaving me around, sucking me down. It was so black, the searchlight barely cut through. There I was, drowning, and I couldn’t even remember what I was doing. It was blind luck that I found the mast. She was all tangled up in the line. I don’t know how many times we went under while I was trying to get her loose. My hands were numb, and I was working blind. Then I had her, and I managed to get the flotation on her. They said I got the tow line secured, but I don’t remember. I just remember hanging on to her and waiting for the next wave to finish us off. Next thing, I was waking up in the infirmary. The kid was sitting there, wrapped in a blanket and holding my hand.” He smiled. It helped to think about that part. Just that part. “She was one tough little monkey. A damn admiral’s granddaughter.”

  “You saved her life.”

  “Maybe. For the first couple of months, I jumped off that deck every time I closed my eyes. Now it’s only once or twice a year. It still scares the breath out of me.”

  “I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”

  “I’m scared of plenty,” Zack said quietly as he met his brother’s eyes. “For a while I was scared I wouldn’t be able to stand on deck and look out at the water again. I was scared to come back here, knowing that once I did, my whole life was going to change. And I’m scared of ending up like the old man, sick and feeble and used up. I guess I’m scared you’re going to walk out that door in a few weeks, feeling the same about me you did when you walked in.”

  Nick broke the gaze first, staring over Zack’s shoulder at the shadowy wall. “I don’t know how I feel. You came back because you had to. I stayed because there was no place else to go.”

  There was no arguing with the truth. As far as Zack could see, Nick had summed it up perfectly. “We never had much of a shot before.”

  “You didn’t hang around very long.”

  “I couldn’t get along with the old man—”

  “You were the only one he cared about,” Nick blurted out. “Every day I’d have to hear about how great you were, how you were making something out of yourself. What a hero you were. And how I was nothing.” He caught himself, swallowed the need. “But that’s cool. You were his blood, and I was just something that got dumped on him when my mother died.”

  “He didn’t feel that way. He didn’t,” Zack insisted. “For God’s sake, Nick, when I lived with him, he was never satisfied with me, either. I was here, and my mother wasn’t. That was enough to make him miserable every time he looked at me. Hell, he didn’t mean it.” Zack closed his eyes and missed the flicker of surprise that passed over Nick’s face. “It was just the way he was. It took me years to realize he was always on my back because it was the only way he knew to be a father. It was the same with you.”

  “He wasn’t my…” But this time Nick trailed off without finishing the sentence, or the thought.

  “Toward the end, he asked for you. He really wanted to see you, Nick. Most of the times he came around like that, he thought you were still a little kid. And sometimes—most times, really—he just got the two of us mixed up together. Then he’d yell at me for both of us.” He said it with a smile—a smile that Nick didn’t return. “I’m not blaming you for staying away, or for holding all those years of criticism and complaints against him. I understand that it was too late for him, Nick. It doesn’t have to be too late for you.”

  “What does it matter to you?”

  “You’re all the family I’ve got.” He rose and laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder, relaxing when it wasn’t shoved off. “Maybe, when it comes right down to the bottom line, you’re all the family I’ve ever had. I don’t
want to lose that.”

  “I don’t know how to be family,” Nick murmured.

  “Me either. Maybe we can figure it out together.”

  Nick glanced up, then away. “Maybe. We’re stuck with each other a few more weeks, anyway.”

  It would do, Zack thought as he gave Nick’s shoulder a quick squeeze. It would do for now. “Thanks for the drink, kid. Do me a favor and don’t mention the nightmare business to anyone.”

  “I can dig it.” Nick watched Zack start back toward the bedroom. “Zack?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t know what he wanted to say—just that it felt good, that he felt good. “Nothing. Night.”

  “Good night.” Zack eased back into bed with a sigh, certain he’d sleep like a baby.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Something had changed. Rachel couldn’t put her finger on it, but as she sat between Zack and Nick on the subway to Brooklyn she knew there was something going on between them. Something different.

  It made her nerves hum. It made her wonder if she’d made a mistake in bringing the problems of the men who flanked her into her parents’ home.

  And her problem, as well, she admitted. After all, she wouldn’t deny she cared about both of them more than what could be considered professional. She felt a kinship with Nick—the younger-sibling syndrome, she supposed. Added to that, she’d been telling the simple truth when she confessed to Zack that she had a weakness for bad boys.

  She wanted to do more for Nick LeBeck than help him stay out of jail.

  As for Nick’s big brother, she’d long since crossed all professional boundaries with him, in to what could only be termed a full-blown affair. Even sitting beside him in the rumbling car, she thought about the last time they’d been together, alone. And it took no effort at all to imagine what it would be like the next time they could steal a few hours.

  Her mother was bound to sense it, Rachel mused. Nothing got past Nadia Stanislaski when it came to her children. She wondered what her mother would think of him. What she would think of the fact that her baby girl had taken a lover.