Beauty and the Brit (32 page)

“Which is not good. He deserves to be hurt, but I don’t want him to think of me whenever he looks in a mirror. He burned down our house, Paul. Isn’t that enough to end your blind loyalty to him?”

“I am not loyal. I’m a fuckin’ prisoner. I go along because I don’t want him
thinking
I’m a prisoner. And he doesn’t want Bonnie. He needs something Bonnie has.”

“What?” Her senses prickled. Dread dripped into her stomach like acid.

“Something that belongs to Hector’s friend.”

“Who, Boyfriend? Someone needs to stop him; he’s a sociopath.”

A long pause followed. She didn’t push. She needed this information no matter how much it scared her.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“What does Bonnie have?”

“We don’t know. But BF is leaning on Heco hard. He’s given him only a little more time to find Bonnie. He says she knows what she has, and he’d better get it before anyone else does or . . . he doesn’t say what the consequences are.”

The words should have terrified her, but somehow, in Paul’s hushed, secret-agent voice they sounded more ludicrous than threatening.

“Well, it turns out I have an advantage, Inigo.”

“What’s that?”

“I
know
what she has.”

“For God’s sake, what?”

“We thought it was yours. It’s a silver money clip with the initial ‘I’ on it.”

“Damn! I need to get it from you. Where are you? We have to meet.”

“No way. Not a chance until I think about this and figure out how to keep Hector and that evil, pimping Boyfriend out of it.”

“Rio, come on. Get me out of this hell.”

“I don’t want to hear about hell,
mano.
You turned your back on us. You had to have known what Hector was planning, and you did nothing. I don’t care about myself, but you owe Bonnie. She adores you. So I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

“You don’t understand.”

Rio took a calming breath and stopped pacing the back deck. She forced herself to sit in the bench rocker and keep her cool.

“Absolutely true. Are you willing to tell me where you are?”

“I told you, I can’t. Hector would kill me if you went to the police. Don’t go to the police, Rio, please. These guys are dangerous.”

“What cop shows are you watching? That’s so cliché I’m laughing my ass off. Tell him I’ve already been to the police, because of his stupid ass text messages. The Minneapolis cops will find him. All we have to do is wait it out.”

“What if he finds you?”

“Hector? Hah! He’s not smart enough.”

“Rio. You’re killing me.”

“I didn’t get you into this mess. If you die it’s on your head. Only you won’t because Hector needs you. You’re the best hope he has of learning where I am.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’ll think about it. But only if two things happen. First, neither Bonnie nor I gets another threatening message from him. Second, you call me sometime from a phone that Hector has no access to, and where he can’t hear you.
Maybe
, we can work something out.”

Another long silence followed. This one lasted nearly half a minute. It ended with a long, clear sigh.

“I don’t know when that will be. He doesn’t trust me. He takes my phone randomly to check texts and send them.”

“That’s precisely why you haven’t gotten any from us. And you won’t. Or any calls. Find a different phone. That’s the deal.”

“Okay.”

“Paul. What’s the ‘I’ on the money clip for?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows anything about Boyfriend except that if you have a debt and can get him a girl, the younger the better, he’ll take care of it. He’s one shadowy dude.”

“He needs to go to prison with a bunch of very large, very lonely guys. He’s lower than hired assassins. If Bonnie had gone—”

“Don’t.” A stone-cold hiss stopped her. “I have a lot to explain about the fire, but I wasn’t going to let Bonnie go with him. I’d have let them kill me first.”

“Then prove it. Fix this, Paul.”

“Look, I gotta go. Hector’s coming in. Make sure Bonnie doesn’t lose that . . . thing.”

“We could send it to you.”

“I suggested that. He won’t let me give out even a P.O. Box that anyone could follow. It’s in person or . . .”

“This is insane.”

“Yeah. Just don’t be stupid. Boyfriend is serious and Hector is scared. That makes him crazier than ever.”

“All right. I get it.” She hesitated, worry creeping back under the edges of her tough act. “Paul, be careful. Please.”

“I’m fine for now.”

“Thanks for letting me know you’re okay.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you are, too. Are you far away?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I guess. Talk to you later. Say hi to Bon.”

He was gone before she could ask any more questions. For several long moments she stared at the phone.

And had no idea what to do.

D
AVID GLARED AT
the two women in front of him and held back a curse. “Did I or did I not expressly tell you I don’t wish to talk to my father?” He swung his eyes from his mother to Kate. They sat over their Monday morning coffee and oatmeal after having dropped their bombshell. Neither gave a blink, much less an apology.

“You need to talk to him,” his mother said simply. “He helped you get off the ground. You have to share your difficulties.”

“I do not. I paid back his loan years ago, and none of this is your business. Either of you.”

Kate shrugged. “Blame me as much as your mum. I maybe pushed the hardest to call your father. I want you to succeed.”

“After all these years, Kate? Just how did you come to that?”

“I understand why you’re put out with me, but maybe I decided long ago I’d made a mistake by letting you go.”

“Letting me go? As I recall, it was much closer to, ‘David, don’t let the door hit you in the arse on the way out.’”

Contrition, practiced and perfect, filled her features. “You’re absolutely right. But time and experience have shown me they don’t come much kinder and harder working than you.”

“Well, bully for me, Kate. That doesn’t mean you get to come waltzing back and make decisions for me.”

“Of course not. I’m sorry. But you do know we could avoid all this completely if you’d just think about forgiving me a little and letting me help. We were good together once. We might be again.” She smiled up at him like a kid asking for a new puppy—all innocence and cunning.

“Kate . . .” he warned.

“She’s right, sweetheart. Maybe it’s you two who should talk.” His mother winked.

He ignored her. “I need you to call Da’ and tell him not to come. Rio had some good ideas to start with. I’m not going to lose the farm over an accident. There’s insurance.”

With an eight-thousand-dollar deductible. And the young driver of the truck had had only collision, no comprehensive. At one point, he’d had that amount put away for just such an emergency, but that cushion was gone. And he wasn’t going to give these two any such details. Not when the matchmaking gloves had officially come off.

“He’s already booked his ticket. He was quite excited to come. Said something about this being serendipity, as a matter of fact.”

“Mum.” He stared, breathing heavily, gaining composure. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s all right.” She smiled. “Sit down and eat something. You had a stressful weekend.”

“I’ll grab a granola bar in the office in the barn. Has Rio been through here yet?”

“She’s working early at the restaurant now, remember?” Kate said, as if she felt sorry for such plebian necessities.

“Damn.” Disappointment stabbed swift and sharp.

“‘Damn?’” Kate looked peeved. “What did you need? Maybe I can help.”

“Nothing—a question about the hay bloke. I’ll ask her this afternoon.”

“You aren’t really going to buy from a supplier three hundred miles away? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if it saves me several hundred dollars. Assuming the hay is decent.”

“Big assumption.”

“Perhaps.” He purposefully switched subjects. “Are you two going out today?”

“No. We’re painting the sewing room and doing up the curtains. We were just thinking we should get the far room done, as well. The one Rio is in. That way we’ll have everything but the upstairs loo done.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t paint Rio’s room without checking. She mentioned doing it herself once. Haven’t a clue if she’d still like to.”

“I should think
you’d
get to say,” Kate replied.

“What would ever make you suggest that? I don’t get a say about anything here.”

He left, sorry for being so blunt, but not for finally speaking the truth. And Kate. He didn’t want her sudden interest any more than he wanted his father back at Bridge Creek.

He pushed Kate out of his mind and focused his anger on his dear old da’. Colin Pitts-Matherson was half the dictator David had described and half Michael Caine dash and urbanity. He could charm or intimidate at will. During the three months he’d spent in Minnesota the past summer, he’d brought in much-needed business, but he’d overrun the place with his King Kong–sized ego. David had learned a lot—including that he’d made the right choice by not following in his father’s footsteps.

He could and would never live up to the Colin P-M legend, and his mother had just driven another nail into that coffin. She’d made it excruciatingly simple. He’d suffer through trotting out one more failure in front of his father—and then it would be over. Until the next time.

“H
OW ARE THEY
doing?”

Rio’s voice pulled him sweetly out of a reverie four hours later. He turned and leaned against the fence holding in his twelve new horses as she climbed onto the bottom rail and draped herself over the top one like a ginger sprite. His heart lifted in that way he still didn’t understand.

“I think they’re coming out of shell shock,” he said. “I’m starting to see a little personality. The bay over there, he’s the alpha. The two chestnut mares there are still vying for top girl. The little pinto holds his own, and your little palomino doesn’t make any waves.”

“She’s so pretty.”

They’d found the undersized three-year-old filly on their second trip. Rio had nearly cried at the wretched little thing huddled in a corner. There’d been no doubt she’d be one of their twelve.

“Look at them,” she continued. “Like a microcosm of society. All colors, all vying for place and status, all just needing to be safe and have a good life. You’re a good guy, you know.”

“Good. Crazy. Is there a difference in this case?”

She smiled softly. “Do things feel any better in the light of a new week?”

“Well, I did contact your hay guy. He sounds legitimate so I guess that’s a step toward better. I ordered three hundred and fifty bales. If I didn’t thank you enough, then I say it again.”

A flush blossomed beneath her dusting of freckles. “I’m glad. It’s just a drop in the bucket, I know, but at this point, every little bit could help.”

He fisted his hands on the fence rail and rested his chin on them. “My mother, of course, thinks if I can’t solve all problems with one blow, it’s a waste of time. They’ve called my father up from Florida.”

“Kate actually told me, too. They were going to wait until he was about to arrive to tell you, but I said I’d tell you myself if they didn’t do it right away. They weren’t happy with me butting into your life.”

“Why does that not surprise me? Well, I’m more grateful for your support than you know. All I can say is batten down your hatches. If you think my mother is a tigress, wait until you meet Colin.”

“Mussolini, didn’t you call him?”

“Dictator mixed with Hollywood. He could order Attila the Hun to retreat and charm him out of his woman at the same time.”

“You got the charming DNA anyway.”

“Oh, it’s stand-up comedy time, is it?”

“Come on, you ooze charm, buster.”

“Ooze, ’eh?”

“You’re not terribly mean or forceful, though. More’s the pity.” A sudden, sultry little grin enflamed him.

“You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

With a growl that released all the pent-up frustrations from the weekend and the day, he encircled her waist with both arms and dragged her off the fence. She screeched and laughed uproariously as he spun her in his arms and pushed her backward. Her laughter stopped when he braced her against the side of the barn, bunched her shirt up with one impatient hand, and covered her mouth with his.

Her groans jolted his body into its hard response, and he pressed his pelvis into hers while his fingers pushed her bra up and over the round globe of her breast.

She dragged her mouth from his with a gasp when he grasped her nipple between his fingers. Her hips thrust forward and she dug into his glutes to yank him forward.

“Yessssss!”

The sibilance of her cry dove straight into his loins, and it was all he could do to stop himself searching out her zipper and his and taking her fully against the barn’s cool, white metal siding.

“You’re beautiful. Have I told you that?” he whispered.

“I want your shirt off.”

“I want everything of yours off.”

“I’m serious.”

She wedged her hands between them and seconds later was working the buttons of his plaid shirt. Warmth hit his belly, cascaded down his legs, and threatened the strength of his knees when she parted the shirt and exposed his skin to her ravenous fingers. The thought they might get caught out here in the middle of the day should have been ice water on his crazed desire, but the danger only fanned the flames.

“Rio . . .” He swallowed as her lips found the sternum line between his pecs. “This is not safe.”

“Too late. You started it.” Her lips moved butterfly-like down his stomach. The shivers that followed hit hard and deep. “Have I ever told you
you’re
beautiful?”

“You’re a crazy woman.”

She laughed, husky and vibrating, and continued her journey to the waistband of his breeches. His breath caught in his throat. His imagination took off to a dangerous place.

Her lips followed.

She kissed the swell of his erection, and he nearly choked. For a blissful second he allowed it, tempted to grasp her head and hold it there. Instead he groaned and dragged her up by the elbows.