More Than Meets the Ink (24 page)

She’d done the right thing calling him.

He’d been at the office with Zack when his cell rang. The caller ID hadn’t recognized the number.

The person on the other end of the line was anxious as hell. “James?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Elle, Tate’s sister. I got your number from your dad. Sorry to bother you, but I think something’s very wrong with Tate.”

James went on alert right away. “What do you mean?” He’d left her this morning still tucked in bed. There had been nothing wrong with Tate then.

“Mrs. Copernicus, our neighbor from Boston, called. Tate came by our parents’ house today. She’s been sitting on the stairs on the front porch for over an hour already. According to her, Tate didn’t even sound articulate when she went to ask her what she was doing there. Sorry for bothering you, but I’m worried about her. She isn’t answering her cell�� If she’s there alone, she’s in deep trouble and…ah…I have no one else to call that could check on her. Your dad wasn’t sure about giving me your number, but I threatened to unleash my mom on him, so he caved in. He said I could call you only in an emergency. I think this constitutes one.”

“What’s the address?” he asked, already shrugging on his jacket. He wrote it down. Good, that wasn’t too far away from his office.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I wouldn’t bother you, but—”

Bother? Was she joking? “I’m on my way.”

And Elle had been right; this was a damn emergency. Tate was weirdly still and seemed disoriented, her swollen eyes glazed and nonresponsive, empty, set on something far away, as if she couldn’t see anything around her. Why on earth had she come here alone? What for? And more important, why hadn’t she called him?

This must have been a huge shock for her. James knew Tate hadn’t processed the deaths of her dad and brother yet; she just walked around life, sidestepping over the huge void their deaths had left, careful not to get close to it so she wouldn’t fall into that pit. She was a master at soldiering on. The family was in trouble, the situation demanded strength and restraint, and she’d stepped up to the plate. She could keep it up, not letting herself remember or feel, but the downside to this was, of course, that all the grief was kept locked inside without an outlet, itching to get out. At all costs, she had to avoid emotional land mines or risk falling victim to one. Her childhood home was the biggest land mine of all, and this time she hadn’t kept clear of it.

It took a while, but finally Tate looked at him and actually saw him, as if waking up from a drunken slumber. She attempted to smile, but her lips started trembling and tears began rolling down her cheeks. She covered her face, hiding her mascara-smudged eyes from him. She’d been crying. A lot. Without a word, James lowered himself and sat beside her on the stairs, enveloping her in his arms.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She just shook her head, her hands still hiding her face, her shoulders shaking, clearly unable to talk.

They sat there in silence for a good ten minutes. Her body was cold to the touch, so he scooped her up in his arms and surrounded her with his heat.

“What happened?” he finally asked.

She took a while to react. As he repeated the question, she turned to him and, looking resigned, lifted her shoulders.

“Talk to me, babe. Did you go in alone?”

She nodded, wiping the tears with the back of her hand. “I wanted to take you out to breakfast. Waffles. On my way to you, I realized how close I was to this place. I was stupid…thought I could come here.” She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes again, her voice broken. “I must’ve been out of my mind. I didn’t make it to the second floor. Couldn’t breathe in there.”

Yeah, well, by the looks of her, she couldn’t breathe out here either. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head vigorously.

Okay, fine. They’d discuss this later. “What are you doing sitting here?”

She shrugged again. “Don’t know. I…didn’t think… I wasn’t sure how to get to Rosita’s. I’m a bit…upset.”

No shit.

“Are you ready to leave now, princess?”

She nodded and clung tight to him, encircling his neck with her arms while he stood up.

“Yes, please, take me home,” she whispered.

He carried her to the car, tears still running down her cheeks. She wasn’t ready yet to take the trip down memory lane, and, he wasn’t going to be the one forcing her to. But he hated seeing her like this, so broken, her spirits so down. She looked…lost—grief-stricken.

“Come on, Tate, didn’t you say you were taking me to breakfast? What about my waffles? I know of a quiet place, won’t be too many people at this time of day. Let’s go there; we’ll talk.”

“I said home,” she snapped back at him, the words full of fury. “You go eat your damn waffles by yourself if you want to.”

She’d come out of her stupor, and anger and conflicting emotions were raging inside her. He wouldn’t put it past her to ditch him and get a cab, she was that independent, and that upset, so he just kept his mouth shut and got her into his car.

She didn’t say a word on the whole way back, those damn silent tears running down her cheeks nonstop, knotting his gut and making him feel useless.

As soon as they got back to the apartment, she went straight to bed and mumbled something about him being free to go. Yeah right, like that was going to happen anytime soon. He called Zack and Sean, arranged for them to pick up her car from Bridge Lane, contacted Elle to let her known everything was okay and then laid down and spooned her. She was still crying, curled there on one side of that big bed.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Tate. I’m here,” he whispered to her, but she didn’t answer and moved to disentangle herself from him. No way was she keeping him at arm’s length. He just tightened his hold on her, and she gave up. She might think she didn’t need or want his comfort, but she was damn well getting it.

He rocked her. At some point, she dozed off, but not even then did she stop crying. Now that she wasn’t consciously repressing it, the sobs tore free from her chest. It was breaking his heart; those broken sobs were killing him as surely as the silent tears before them had. He whispered to her, trying to soothe her in her sleep. Thank God she seemed to respond to him, and little by little, she settled down.

They spent all day there, him hugging her, Tate dozing off and on. At one point, he felt self-conscious at being so pushy. Maybe he was intruding in her grief.

He loosened his grip on her. “I better go…” he said, releasing her waist.

She turned around, the force of that sudden movement sending him onto his back, and grabbed him by his chest, plastered herself on him. “Please, don’t go,” she whispered, squeezing him hard. “Please don’t leave me.”

She then blushed, as if ashamed of her admission, but he wouldn’t let her take it back. He squeezed her back and nuzzled the top of her head. “I won’t.”

It took a while for her to relax again, but she did.

Poor little thing, she was so precious to him, so frail and so strong at the same time. There was no way in hell he was going to let anybody terrorize her. There was nothing he could do about her dad and her brother’s deaths, apart from being there for her, but hell if he was going to let this fucking Prince Charming mess with her. James had spent quite a lot of time on those e-mails, which despite Tate’s claims to the contrary were much more than a spam problem. The first ones mainly concentrated on threatening the restaurant. The creep wanted the place sold out, but the latest ones were more directed toward her. He guessed Prince Charming was getting impatient, and that was usually bad news; it meant the one being stalked was running out of time.

He’d get this straightened out. That fucker’s days were numbered. Jack was on board, and the man had more contacts than anyone had a right to have. One of Jack’s friends, a damn good computer expert, had agreed to check out the e-mails, and if anyone could find the sender, it was him.

As 95 percent of stalkers were somebody known by the victim, they were concentrating on Tate’s closest circle of friends and employees. Ex-boyfriends were always a good place to start, so they had put a tail on Aidan, but so far they hadn’t uncovered anything suspicious—the guy did nothing but work and attend business brunches. Pity, he’d have loved to smack the shit out of the arrogant fuckface, but even James had to recognize the asshole ex-boyfriend scenario worked much better when he hadn’t been the one doing the dumping.

They had gone to see Old Vito’s owner to feel the waters a little, and Tate had been right. He wasn’t the kind to stalk anyone with e-mails; the suppliers’ trick was more his style. What Tate didn’t know was that Vito’s son Andrew was stepping in, and he and his goons were computer savvy and therefore more than capable of trying new tricks. Although in the sense that they could break all your bones or set your place on fire, they really were old school. Besides, according to Jack, Andrew Vito ran several shady gambling operations, and surprise, surprise, Clint owed one of his bookies several grand. It must really suck to be an unlucky gambler on top of being an asshole. James had run a background check on Clint some time ago and wasn’t surprised to find he’d been arrested several times for drunk and disorderly conduct and for getting too intense on people and situations. He, with his list of mandatory anger-management courses ordered by the judge and his debts, would be a perfect candidate for Vito to use to run Tate out. After all, with no signs of breaking and entering, the fire had to be an inside job.

James spent hours in bed with Tate. They spoke little. By the afternoon, Tate was not asleep anymore but idly caressed his chest.

“I heard you before on the phone.”

“I sent Zack to pick up your car.”

Her face blushed a sexy shade of pink. “Yeah, well, about that… Sorry. Again. I seem to have a nasty habit of breaking down around you,” she said, shifting a bit uncomfortably. She was so proud, meltdowns in front of anyone were a damn hard pill to swallow. “I’m not really a crier.”

James hugged her tightly, tucking her head under his chin. He was as freaked out by women’s tears as the next man, but if she were to heal anytime soon, she had to unload all that grief choking her.

“How long is this going to hurt, James?”

“I don’t know, princess. For a while. For a long while, but it will get better with time, I promise. The day will come when you’ll be able to think about them without being sad.”

He knew it was going to take time; she’d been left all alone, no safety net to catch her and help her. He’d had Max and Cole and his dad and Aunt Maggie when his mother had bailed; he’d been protected and cherished, surrounded by people who loved and cared for him, but even then he’d dealt with some abandonment issues those first years. Tate had been abandoned in a more dramatic way, left all of a sudden to fend for herself without any support. Not only were her dad and brother gone, but the rest of her family as well. This wasn’t going to blow away overnight, or anytime soon for that matter.

“I avoid thinking about Jonah and Dad so systematically I’m afraid I’ll forget them,” she whispered.

“That won’t happen, baby. You may not see it that way now, but it’s good that you were there today. Next time it’ll be easier, you’ll see. And I could go with you if you want.”

“I’d like that.” She was quiet for a while, her finger idly caressing his chest. “You know, Jonah would be outraged to have Nils in his kitchen.” She quietly laughed. “They’d butt heads, those two, for sure. Jonah was very laid back in other aspects, but he used to run his kitchen like a drill sergeant, while Nils thrives in dramatic chaos. Working with him is like being immersed in an opera. My father would have loved it. He’d have been appalled at the way Clint’s behaving, though. And pissed at me for allowing it.”

James’s teeth clenched at the sound of that name. He was aching to tell her everything he knew about Clint, but it was too early, and they had nothing definitive that would tie him to Prince Charming. “You need to deal with Clint; you know that, don’t you?”

She nodded.

He could easily enough deal with Clint, break all his teeth, and fire his sorry ass, but it was Tate who had to do that, at least the firing part. If he was the one sending the e-mails, though, or the one working behind the scene to run Tate out, James was going to do more than just break his teeth. He was going to obliterate him.

“I know Clint needs a wake-up call; his attitude frankly sucks. I just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Anyway, enough about that. It looks like I ruined your day.”

He smiled. “Nope. Instead of working at the office, I spent all day in bed with you. What more could I want?”

She snorted. “Yeah right, like it must’ve been so fun to witness my crying jag.”

He shrugged. “You go ahead and cry. I can deal with it.” He didn’t want her hurting, but going to her parents’ house was something long overdue. And no matter how much she hated it, she needed to cry too.

“Well, thank you, but I think I’m done.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed on him. “By the way, how did you know to come for me?”

“Elle called me.” At her frown, he explained, “Mrs. Copernicus called her and she got my number from my dad.”

Tate groaned. “Oh God.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Elle said she threatened him with unleashing your mom on him if he didn’t give up my number.”

Tate leaned her forehead on his chest. “Oh no, your dad has to be horrified. The three Cooper women in all their crazy neediness are falling upon his family; my mom stalks his cat, and Elle stalks him so that the Cooper woman left in Boston can ruin your life. What a disgrace!”

He chuckled. “Nils is not the drama queen here; you are.” He reached for her face, lifting it to him and gazed lovingly at her. Her eyes were a bit red and swollen, her cheeks blotchy and her lips too. She was just breathtaking. For the longest moment, he just looked at her.

“A penny for your thoughts,” she whispered.

“Do you really want to know what I’m thinking?”

She looked at him expectantly.

She was so beautiful, and he was so madly in love with her. Scared shitless to tell her too. So he did what any self-respecting man would: let his glands talk. “I want to fill you up with my cum.”