Matt—The Callahan Brothers (Brazos Bend Book 2) (20 page)

He cleared his throat. “You’re not babysitting. She has a bodyguard. Bill Reynolds. You, I want on the computer. I have the electronics you’ll need at the lake house.”

“No problem. I can do both.” Mark flexed his shoulders, grimaced, then turned to head upstairs.

“Wait.” Matt slammed the dishwasher shut and wiped his hands on a towel. “I have some other news I need to tell you. Something...important.”

“Branch?” Luke asked, his green eyes narrowing.

Mark set his jaw. “I’m going to bed. I don’t give a good damn.”

“Not Branch. Ćurković. The sonofabitch is dead.”

His twin brothers met each other’s gazes, their identical eyes glowing fierce with elation. “You got him! Way to go, bro,” Mark said.

“No. I didn’t get him.” Matt drew a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. “The effing sonofabitch died in his effing sleep in a five-effing-star hotel in effing Paris!”

His brothers scowled, echoed Matt’s vulgarity, then shrugged. “Now, that’s just not right,” Luke said. “He should have gone hard.”

“But he’s gone,” Mark said. “That’s what matters.” Pinning a fierce look on Matt, he added, “That’s all that matters.”

No, it wasn’t. But then, Mark and Luke didn’t know. Matt had spared his brothers most of the details he knew about John’s capture and torture. They didn’t know how hard he’d died.

They didn’t shoulder the guilt that Matt did. They hadn’t been there that horrific night.

Matt had.

“I’m whipped. Calling calf rope. Where am I sleeping, Matthew?”

“Les’s room is up the stairs on the left. Y’all have your pick of the other three. Let’s plan on meeting for breakfast around eight at the lake house.”

“What about you?” Luke asked. “Branch told Maddie there was some action out on the lake the other night. Where will you be sleeping, bro?”

Matt shot his brother the bird, and walked out into the cool evening air.

***

Torie watched the sun set from an upstairs guest room at Matt’s lake house. Then she took a seat in an antique wooden rocker, tucked her feet beneath her, and clicked on the television set. Three hours later as she blindly stared at a Spanish soap opera, she heard the electric hum of a golf cart arriving, then departing a few minutes later. Next came the mumble of male voices, followed by heavy steps on the stairs.

Matt appeared in the doorway wearing jeans and a T-shirt similar to what he’d worn yesterday when he’d barged in demanding her list. If he’d slept here last night, she didn’t know. She’d moved from his bedroom into a guest room. She hadn’t heard him come in, and he hadn’t been here when she went down for breakfast.

He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, his gaze on the television. “You speak Spanish?”

“And French, Italian, a little German. Army brat.” She picked up the slender black remote and switched off the set. “How is your brother?”

“Banged up. Sore. Not bad, considering.” He sauntered into the room, took a look around. “You decided to change accommodations?”

Sure, Callahan, throw it on my shoulders.
“This is a pleasant room. I love the photos of the old wooden boats. Besides, I don’t go where I’m not welcome.”

“Really?” he drawled, arching a brow. “Somehow, I doubt Senator Harris would agree with that statement.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “You’ve studied my list.”

“Oh, yeah. C’mon, now, Victoria.” He picked up a decorative stone paperweight from the writing desk and tossed it from hand to hand. “An orgy? What were you thinking?”

Her gaze followed the motion of the small rock in his big hands. She smelled the spicy scent of his aftershave and quashed the urge to move closer. “It was Halloween. I thought it was a costume party. I didn’t even realize what I was taking pictures of until ... well ... later.”

“How much money did you make off those photos?”

“I told you earlier that I didn’t sell them.” Stubborn, thickheaded man. “I turned them over to the police.”

“To bring down the senator’s career?” He replaced the paperweight on the desk, then lifted her hairbrush off the dresser and began tossing it in a circle by the handle.

“Look, I didn’t recognize the senator!” She grabbed her hairbrush away from him. “I didn’t recognize anyone but the actor I followed. There were children at that event. I gave the prints to the police because I thought everyone there should be arrested!”

Matt shook his head. “A murder, a political sex scandal, an exploding apartment ... all in less than two years. You’re a trouble magnet, Bradshaw.”

She set her hairbrush on the bedside table and visualized pulling her Glock and plugging his good knee. “Do you want something, Callahan, or did you just come up here to give me grief?”

Matt folded his arms and gave her a long, brooding look. The air grew thick with tension. “I’m afraid I do want something,” he finally said, his gaze drifting slowly over her body. “But I don’t want to want it.”

Torie knew exactly what he meant.

This was crazy. Was she so weak that all he need do was give her a heavy-lidded look and she’d fall at his feet? Apparently.

Attempting to distract them both, she again took a seat in the rocking chair, folded her arms, crossed her legs, and lifted her chin. “What’s the plan for tomorrow, Callahan? Am I going to sit here alone all day twiddling my thumbs?”

“You’re not alone. You have Bill and the rat dog.” He was slow to lift his gaze from her legs to her eyes. “I think it’s best for you to stay here until we get a location on our suspects. Because we’re looking at quite a few people, that may take a few days.”

“You don’t think he could find me here, do you? In Brazos Bend?”

“I think the chances are really slim. Nevertheless, I want Reynolds to stick around for the time being.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

He arched one brow. “That’s more cooperation than I expected.”

“I don’t know why. I came to you for help. Why would I fight you when you’re giving me what I asked for?”

Again, his gaze made a sweep of her body. “Seems to me like you’re asking for a number of different things.”

With that, Torie’s temper flared anew and she shoved to her feet. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you talking about sex, Callahan? If so, you can go jump in the cold lake. I’m not the one sending mixed signals here.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. “I’m sorry. I just ... the other night was….” He sighed heavily. “I wish you took bluebonnet photographs all the time.”

So he was blaming her job for his withdrawal? What a crock. “That would be difficult, considering that they have such a short blooming season.”

“I hate what you do, Victoria.”

“No.” She gaped and gently slapped the side of her face. “I never would have guessed.”

“Smart-aleck.” A faint smile played on his lips. “I loved how we were together.”

She turned away from him. He made her so angry, so needy, so… sad ... that she couldn’t bear to look at him. “We were good.”

“We were great. Really great. Great doesn’t come along very often, but ....”

When he didn’t complete the sentence, Torie’s heart twisted. The man was blind as a bat. He’d liked her too much. She’d gotten too close to him, so he had to find an excuse to push her away. That’s what this was.

Well, whatever. She wasn’t going to beg him. She still had her pride. Meeting his gaze in the carved oak mirror hung above the dresser, she did the job for him. “We were a one-night stand. You don’t have to worry, Callahan. I understand. You want to sleep with me, but you don’t respect me.”

He swore softly and shoved his fingers through his hair. “That’s not—”

“It’s been a long day, Matt.” Turning, she walked toward the door and maneuvered him outside the room. “Let’s call it a night.”

“Torie, it’s not that simple.”

Torie shut the door in his face, firmly and quietly. She stopped herself—just barely—from kicking the closed door with the toe of her favorite sandals.

No man—not 007 or Double-Oh-Yeah—was worth a pair of Manolos.

Chapter Eleven

Following a fitful night’s sleep, Torie grabbed a cup of coffee from the thankfully empty kitchen and escorted Gigi out into the glorious morning. Springtime in Texas was hard to beat, she decided. The huge blue sky, perfect weather, and flower-dotted fields soothed her stormy soul.

Torie had grown a thick skin over the years, but Matt’s accusations the night before had hurt her. Yes, she’d landed in some unusual, unpleasant situations of late. Yes, she seemed to find more trouble than others of her acquaintance, but the argument she’d given him during their escape from Soledad Island hadn’t changed. Her job was vital to the entertainment industry.

Yes, that wasn’t nearly as important as having a job vital to the country, but a balanced life needed some fun mixed in with the serious, and different people had different definitions of fun. For some of them, that meant knowing a tidbit about a celebrity’s everyday life. Too bad, so sad for Matt Callahan if he couldn’t see it.

“... worried about Matt.” A male voice floated on the air.

Always curious, Torie drifted closer. “Because of Ćurković?” another voice asked.

Didn’t sound like Bill the bodyguard. Besides, she thought Bill was upstairs sleeping after his overnight guard stint. Torie paused at the corner of the house and peered around cautiously. Two men stood on the back patio, steaming cups of coffee in their hands, staring out at the lake, where Matt was getting in a cold, early swim. Must be the brothers, she thought.

They were both tall and broad with dark hair and really nice tushes. The Callahan men all shared a resemblance in that respect. Torie couldn’t see their faces, but she suspected they’d be as fine to look at as Matt.

But their looks weren’t nearly as important as what they were saying, so she listened harder. “... know he wanted to rip his balls off and make him eat them. I wanted the bastard dead as bad as anyone, but Matt ... he’s been intense.”

“You know what I think, Luke?” the man—Mark, by process of elimination—said. “I think Matt knows something more he hasn’t shared with the class.”

“Something like what?”

“Something not good, that’s for damn sure. Did you see the look on his face last night when he told us Ćurković died in his sleep? Matt’s tortured by it.”

“I don’t know.” Luke Callahan sipped his coffee, then said, “The thing you can’t forget about Matt is the still-waters-running-deep factor. Maybe it’s from being the oldest, but I think he carries responsibility on his shoulders like an anvil. He was bad with us when we were kids, worse after Mom died, and then the fallout from Branch’s splitting us up topped with the job he’s been doing for years—Matthew needs to lighten up. When he told us he’d bought this place, I had hopes he’d finally begun to chill. Much better to use his downtime growing grapes than his more usual pastimes.”

“Like speedboat racing, you mean?” Mark asked. “Hang gliding? Rock climbing? High-altitude skiing? I have to admit, I’ve never pictured him as a vintner. The man is an adrenaline junkie. Farming isn’t in his blood.”

“No, but payback is. Remember how he was when we were kids? You’d do something to Matt, you could count on the payback being twice as bad. And he can be subtle about it, too.”

“Like buying this land to stick it to Branch.”

Luke nodded. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he hadn’t been planning a particularly nasty bit of vengeance that
Ćurković
up and spoiled by dying on him.”

“Yeah, you may be right. But that begs the question of how we ended up here. I know he’s angry about what happened yesterday, but that doesn’t explain why he asked me to investigate Torie Bradshaw’s problem to begin with. Is it part of some sort of elaborate revenge for her tearing up his leg?”

Torie almost dropped her coffee cup at that.

“Could have started out that way. He’s certainly done more diabolical paybacks in the past. I figure that what happened yesterday will supersede any other plan. You could have been killed. Now Matt will go balls to the wall to find out who’s responsible.”

Mark Callahan rubbed the back of his neck. “He needs to relax. Hell, he needs to retire. Wish he’d find himself a woman like your Maddie and settle down, raise some kids, be a Little League coach.”

“Can’t argue with that. Matt could use a dose of normal. It’s done wonders for me.”

“You call your life normal?” Mark asked, snorting with amusement. “You’re married to a rock star’s daughter and you live on a houseboat with the dumbest dog ever born.”

“Knucklehead isn’t dumb.” Luke gestured with his coffee cup. “That’s dumb.”

Torie glanced in the direction he indicated, and groaned. Gigi was sniffing at a fire ant pile. “Gigi!” she exclaimed, abandoning her eavesdropping on account of her dog. “Get away from there!”

The dog jumped away whining before Torie took two forward steps. “Gigi, what were you thinking?” Torie scolded. “One of these days your curiosity is going to get you into serious trouble.”

“Like mother like daughter,” Luke Callahan observed.

Torie glanced at him, at them, and forgot all about Gigi for a moment. Holy cow, Mr. and Mrs. Callahan had bred true. Matt’s brothers were gorgeous, and except for Mark’s temporary bruises, as identical as she and Helen, right down to the curiosity in their gazes. “You must be Ms. Bradshaw,” Luke drawled. “We’re—”