Red Hot Christmas (39 page)

      Alejandro gave her a long glance, his eyes leaving a trail of heat wherever they assessed. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

      Her nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and she fidgeted on the chair, desperate to will the sensation away. “Trust me, I need to run daily, otherwise—”

      “I was trying to compliment you. You aren’t good at receiving compliments, are you?” A carefree chuckle filled the room. “You are something else, Sydney Bell.”

      She shrugged, and went back to her screen. A child strolled happily on the street, holding hands with his mother. Sydney hovered her fingers on the mouse, that close to clicking it to speed up the Hallmark scene so she could continue her search for the intruder. The moment her index finger touched the mouse, she straightened her shoulders.

      “Found anything?” he said behind her, too close for comfort. Every time his breath brushed her hair, her scalp sizzled with awareness.
 

      
“No.” She cleared her throat, eager to shake off the discomfort. “Just a kid with his mom.”

      Alejandro rocked back in his chair, stretching his glorious body. “That’s Eduardo. He’s the grandson of the lady on the third floor. He loves soccer and the color orange,” he said, and placed his hands behind his neck, perhaps working out a kink. Admittedly, those chairs were way too small for a man of his size.
 

      Size. The word made her belly flutter.
 

       “I’m assuming he likes to visit?”

      Alejandro offered her a sweet smile. “He also loves to talk about his life adventures and wrongdoings with pride. I know for a fact, after sharing the elevator with him a few times. He can summarize his entire life in five minutes.”
 

      The image of Alejandro chatting with a kid set a warm wave through her. This time, it wasn’t like the sexual current from a minute ago. It was… “Five minutes? That’s highly efficient. Perhaps he should be the one writing your biography then.”
 

      He leaned closer, his chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement. “If I’d had that great idea, we wouldn’t have been in this predicament, would we?”

      No. They would never even have met. She shook her head, and right clicked on the mouse. “Do you ever want kids?” She let the words flow naturally, as if they talked about a football match or a celebrity coupling. A part of her still wrestled with why she asked him that question, going against everything else. She almost choked when she released a sigh she forgot she was holding.
 

      “I like children.” A pause. “I like them enough to know they deserve a stable home.”

      She shuddered, and remembered the black and white family pictured in the frame she’d brought. That was the closest to stability she had ever experienced. A powerful bile brewed in the back of her throat, and she had to push it down. Hard. “I couldn’t agree with you more. You almost married Carla, though. Didn’t you two ever have that conversation?”

      “When I proposed to her, I wanted things to be different. I wanted to be different, and be the guy who believes in happy marriages even though I grew up seeing my mom and dad fight a lot.”

      “It’s not your fault it didn’t work out with her.”

      “It’s not her fault either.” He sighed. “Before her I had never met a woman I wanted to tie myself to. And after her…I started to question if that was even something I’d ever want.”

      She nudged his elbow. “Maybe it’s for the best. I bet your mom is far too elegant to wear the grandmother badge.”

      “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind that badge. How about you?”

      “I never considered bringing children into this world in my whole life. I wonder though, if that’s all there is. If I can’t maybe adopt and make someone’s life better.” Her voice trailed off. “Not like I’ll have any shot with an agency, what with being a former inmate.”

      She shrugged and reached for her pizza. Her best option would be to shove food in her mouth to avoid saying something super stupid. To say the conversations with him had helped her to come to that conclusion would be dumb. Last thing she wanted was for Alejandro to think she was fantasizing about a future for the two of them, with rainbows and puppies. What a ridiculous idea—she was a cat person, to begin with.

      “Is that him?” He pointed at a man on his monitor.
 

      She squinted, and angled toward his screen.
 

      A man with the same blue baseball hat she’d seen the intruder wearing walked across the street. “Zoom in on him,” she said, and within a second, a cold sensation spilled into her veins. “It’s him. When did this happen?”

      Alejandro read the info on the bottom of the recording. “A day before the intruder came over.”

      She couldn’t help but peer at him. The contours of his face hardened, and she noticed his throat working. “Interesting. But what…”

       “Rewind. He just bumped into someone.” He raised his voice, his eyes widening for a moment.
 

      She brought her attention back to what mattered, and clicked on the mouse for a slow rewind. The man exchanged an envelope as he bumped into someone else. Intrigued, she paused the recording and enlarged the image. The man the intruder was next to was slim, a tad shorter than him and—

      “That’s my mother’s driver,” he said, and the bitterness in his voice spoke volumes.

She let go of the mouse and swiveled her chair in his direction. “Should we talk to him?”

      His nostrils flared. “Let’s go straight to the source,” he said, and hit the button to print the image.
 

 
She knew what that meant. They would talk to his mother, which would prove her early suspicion that his mother was somehow involved in Frank’s death—perhaps in Patty’s as well. In the same week, the man beside her could lose the uncle he thought he knew, and the mother he thought he had.
 

With a quiet nod, Sydney surged to her feet and followed him out of the security area. For once in her life, she hoped she was wrong.

***

      “Oh, there you are. I knew you’d come to your senses and come home,” his mother said, as she stood next to the Christmas tree and added some sparkly ornaments to the already crowded piece. “I found a few ornaments I left behind, and thought it’s better late than never, right?” She gave him a wink, uncharacteristically playful. Although his mother was dressed to the nines as usual, her hair up and the expensive yet understated ruby necklace adorning her, he could tell by the circles her makeup failed to conceal that she had been worried. “Here, Sydney, take one.” She handed Sydney a green and gold ball, and Sydney mumbled something he couldn’t hear and palmed it.
 

      Mother. Did she really have to put on a show and pretend nothing had happened? Didn’t the last few days teach her anything? “What is your connection to the man who was here the other day?”
 

      “Excuse me?” she asked, eyes widened and chin jutting out.
 

      “The man you lied to us about.” He flung the picture he printed at her. “This guy knows your driver. Was he blackmailing you, Madre? Is there a sordid detail you left out?”

      She let out a long sigh, and fell back on the tufted sofa as if she had just been on a shopping marathon. “One.”

      He wouldn’t give in this time, and continued standing, legs apart and hands perched on his hips. Sydney played with the delicate ball, passing it from hand to hand. He realized the upside of not having a family was to avoid awkward moments like this. “Well, let’s hear it.”

      Constanza massaged her temples and closed her eyes for an instant, before straightening herself on the sofa. “I paid him…to pretend he was intruding.”
 

      
Paid?
“What?” Anger skated up his throat. He looked at Sydney, whose jaw was dropping—not just her jaw. The ball she had been playing with must have slipped from her hands at the revelation, because dozens of tiny shimmering pieces were crushed under her feet. She opened her mouth to speak, but he waved her off. His mother was about to tell him one more of her stupid little lies, and he couldn’t miss a single word.
 

       “I’m not an idiot, son. I knew there was something you were hiding from me. Ever since you came from New York. I tried to listen here and there. When I eavesdropped on you the first night and heard about the biographer, I didn’t know how much about it you had discovered.”

      “And you thought by worrying me you would find out?” God, did she see him as a complete idiot? Restless, he paced in small circles, working his legs as frustration, hot and strong, flooded him. Who the fuck was his mother?
 

      “I…I expected you to tell me. I thought you needed some pushing. Maybe you were being blackmailed by someone. I just had to know,” his mother continued, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. “The guy I asked to er, assist me, obviously took his role a tad too seriously when he struck me and the maid.”

      “Did you have Frank Lewis killed?” He carefully pronounced every single word, to ensure there was no miscommunication this time.
 

      Tension crackled in the living room. Sydney nodded at him, egging him on. Was she proud he was standing up to his mother? He shook his head. What a strange time to worry about what Sydney was thinking.
 

      Constanza folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do such a thing.”
 

      “I don’t know you anymore. You and Evandro both had reasons why you didn’t want him alive. The man is dead, and he had no other enemies. Who’s to say you didn’t hire someone to do it? I learned yesterday that you lied to me my entire life about my biological father. You cheated on my dad continuously throughout the marriage. Pardon me if I don’t believe you right now.”

      His mother shook her head. “What are you going to do?”
 

      First things first, he needed to meet Joe in person and talk about his suspicions.
 

Accusations, especially within the family, were a delicate matter. “I’ll bring justice to Frank Lewis’s death.”
 

      “That’s thoughtful,
mi hijo
. But how on Earth can you do that?” Constanza asked, straightening her posture.
 

      Alejandro’s gaze darted at Sydney, who leaned against the wall. Despite the misleading casual posture, there was that simmering intensity flickering in her eyes. A powerful warmth poured over him. “I have my ways, Madre,” he said, refusing to elaborate. He wouldn’t risk discussing his concerns with his mother. “It seems I won’t be able to stay for Christmas after all.”
 

      A lump lodged in his throat. He had promised his father on his grave to always be there for his mother, and to come celebrate every Christmas with her. His temples throbbed, and a rush of hot, pounding blood surged through him. This year, not only he wouldn’t be present—he would go back to Chicago.
 

***

      “Did you mean what you said back there?” she asked him after the flight attendant in his private jet left them alone.
 

      “Of course,” he said. Two shots of scotch and his blood pressure was still off the charts. The decision to leave Argentina and get to Chicago would pay off. He would take all the information he had to his detective. He had sent Joe a text message saying he would contact him just as soon as he got back. “Do I want to believe my mother paid someone to kill him? No.” Shit. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. But if life taught him anything, it was to try and always be one step ahead of the curve.
 

      “I’m sorry. It’s a lot to process, isn’t it?”

      He lifted her hand to his mouth, and planted a small kiss. She quivered, and it was like the tremor passed from her body to his, as he too, shuddered. He wanted to thank her, thank her for being there for him. During the past week, he had endured the worst kind of news from his life—apart from Amparo’s death.
 

      The family he thought he had was a sham. Now, doubts crowded his thoughts. Was discovering even more worth it? What if he lost the little he had left? “I can’t stop anymore. I have to find out, Sydney.”

      “I get you.”
 

      “Remember when you were asking me earlier about starting a family? The idea is laughable. If I was ever far from it, it’s now. How can I consider it when my own family is falling apart? I feel I lost my father and Amparo decades ago. This week, I lost my mother and uncle.”

      “You will survive this,” she said, and the sadness in her voice made him unbuckle his safety belt and reach out to her. Of course he knew he would survive it. He was a strong man, and deception wasn’t a crippling emotion—well, not for long. Yet it was the vulnerable veneer sweeping over her that got to him.
 

      Sydney had experienced real pain, real loss. Not that the ones he did weren’t real. He claimed her mouth with his, and she accepted it. She ran her fingers along his jaw, and the scrape of her sharp nails against his stubbled chin set a rumble through his body.