Wild Card (8 page)

forgotten about Duncan. Nice, safe, easygoing Duncan Sykes with his dark blond hair, brown

eyes, and steady smile. He wasn't dangerous. He didn't have the power to destroy her sanity or

her self-control.

"I'll be here in the morning." His lips thinned at the sound of a car door closing. "With Rory."

Sabella smiled at the thought of getting her hands on Rory. Oh, her brother-in-law was in some

serious trouble.

"You do that," she told him softly as Duncan approached the door, a frown on his face. "And be ready to ride out the same way you rode in. Now, thanks to you, I'm late, and I'm not ready

for my date. You deserve to be fired for that alone."

She put a smile on her face as the door opened and Duncan stepped in. And of course, she

compared the two men. Not that there was much comparison. Noah was hands down harder,

tougher, sexier, more vibrant and imposing than Duncan would ever be.

"You're not ready." Duncan grinned, amusement dancing in his eyes despite the curious glance

he flicked to the other man. "Why did I have a feeling you'd forget our date if things got busy?"

"Because you know me." She grinned back, aware that her amusement was more faked than

she would have liked.

Her gaze flicked back to Noah.

"New employee?" Duncan asked, turning to Noah as though he weren't a rabid maniac on the

loose and holding out his hand. "I'm Duncan Sykes. I own the electronics store in town."

A shiver of foreboding raced through Sabella at Noah's smile. It was the chill in his eyes, the

flash of teeth, that warned her he wasn't nearly as friendly he was pretending to be.

"Noah Blake," he introduced himself.

Duncan glanced back at Sabella.

"It's good to meet you." Duncan nodded then smiled back at Sabella. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry and get dressed. Do you need me to lock up?"

Oh, she really didn't think so.

"Everything's ready, I just have to lock the door behind us." She turned to Noah, her eyes

narrowing as he continued to stare at Duncan. "Noah, I need to lock up."

A flash of dread raced up her spine as he turned back to her. His eyes were flat and cold, his

lips unsmiling, his expression too still. Too calm.

"Have a nice night," he told her quietly before leaving the office and moving to the black,

wicked Harley parked outside the garage.

Sabella was barely aware of the breath she had been holding until it released silently and she

turned back to Duncan. "You'll have to enjoy a glass of wine while I get ready. Time got away

from me today."

"You're always worth waiting on," he told her as they stepped from the office and she locked

the doors. "Besides, we've been seeing each other long enough, Belle, that I know to build in

time when I make reservations."

Sabella grimaced. She was always late. She had never been late for anything until her

husband's death. It seemed as though she had been running late ever since. Trying somehow to

go back rather than forward.

As she slid into the passenger seat of Duncan's car for the ride up to the house, she couldn't

help but notice that Noah was still there. He was bent next to the Harley, fiddling with

something, no doubt being nosy, because his gaze wasn't on the bike, it was on them.

"I'm going to assume Rory hired him," Duncan stated as they drove past the Harley.

"You assume right," she breathed out roughly.

Rory was always pulling in strays. Thankfully, they never seemed to stay long. She had a

feeling she was going to have trouble getting rid of this one though.

Nothing else was said as they pulled into the driveway in front of her house.

"Come on in." She moved quickly from the car, house keys in hand. "You know where the

wine is, go ahead and get a glass, I'll get showered and be down in half an hour."

She opened the door and rushed in, making for the stairs at a quick pace.

"I'm timing you," he said, laughing. "Twenty bucks says it will take an hour."

"You're on.'" She threw him a quick smile, but ducked her head, knowing that smile wouldn't

reach her eyes.

She couldn't stop the feeling that somehow, some way, she was being unfaithful to the husband

who had died more than six years ago. She had fought that feeling for a year, ever since the

first date she had accepted with Duncan. The first time she had promised herself she was going

to get over Nathan's death.

Each time she and Duncan left the house she had shared with Nathan, she had felt the queasy,

sick feeling that she was betraying the man she loved. The man who had loved her.

It was insane. She had to assure herself daily that Nathan would have wanted her to be happy,

that he wasn't staring down from heaven, feeling hurt and angry because she had turned her

back on what they had shared.

She hadn't turned her back, she told herself as she stepped beneath the shower. He had been a

warrior, and he hadn't returned home. He was dead and gone, and she was still alive. Wasn't

she?

Noah had a meeting to go to, an operational briefing that he knew he should already be heading

to. Instead, he was standing in the tree line outside the home he used to share with Sabella, a

pair of military binoculars in his hands, staring at the house.

No matter how much he had bitched while they were married, Sabella still left the blinds and

curtains open until dark. They were open now.

Duncan Sykes was in the kitchen and, be damned, but he was opening a bottle of wine. His lips

tightened. That was his wine, no matter who he was or wasn't. He'd spent years building his

collection of wines, rarely opening a bottle, enjoying the sight of the little wine cellar in the

basement as it filled up.

Now that son of a bitch was opening one of his best bottles and pouring a glass. By God, if he

caught that bastard in his bed, with his wife, there would be murder.

He blew out a hard breath. Wasn't his business, he reminded himself.

The hell it wasn't. Jagged, forked spikes of pure fury buried themselves in his brain as he felt

the control he had built over the past years beginning to crack. If Noah saw Duncan touch her,

he wouldn't be able to control the rage.

Noah was aware of Rory coming up behind him, following the order Noah had given him when

he called from the garage. His brother wasn't happy. And that was just too damned bad,

because Noah had never in his life been further from "happy."

"How long has this shit been going on?" he bit out, keeping his eyes on the house rather than

glancing at Rory.

"What shit?" Rory eyed him warily.

Noah flicked his hand at the house. "Sykes."

"'Bout a year." Rory flopped down at the base of a tree and yawned as though he were safe.

Noah flicked a look down at him. "And you didn't stop it, why?"

Rory looked up at him in surprise before scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "Hell, probably

because he's the only one of the men she's gone out with that I actually like."

Noah's jaw clenched. "How many have there been?"

Other men. Not just one man. Other men had gone out with his wife. Stared at her smile, lusted

after her. He couldn't imagine one of them touching her, or he'd have to kill them all.

"Just a few." Rory shrugged as though it didn't matter. "They never last long. A few dates here and there. Then she'll get all guilty feeling, wear her wedding band for a while, and bury up

here in the house when she's not working before she forces herself to try again. She hasn't worn

her wedding band in over a year now though."

Rory picked at a blade of grass as Noah went back to watching the house.

Sykes was still in the kitchen, probing around, looking through drawers. The bastard

straightened a cup on a hook and paced to the far window to look down on the garage. There

was a look of pending ownership on Sykes's face, as if he were already imagining exactly what

he intended to change in Bella's life.

Yeah, Noah knew him, well. Duncan hid his strong will from most people, but he was no one's

fool. He'd been seeing Sabella for a year, then he was serious about it. He had every intention

of owning everything Noah had once possessed as Nathan Malone.

"You left her," Rory stated with a hint of anger. "It wouldn't be any of your business if she had fucked half the town, anyway."

He didn't say anything, because Rory was right. He had left her. He had taken that mission

knowing there was a chance of failure. He had failed and he hadn't come back.

"What happened with Grant?" he asked Rory. '"He tried to take the garage and the house after promising he would take care of her if anything happened to me. Why?"

"'Same reason he ended up with Grandpop's stuff, I guess." Rory sighed. "Because that's just how he is. Grandpop still excuses him. Says Grant is doing what he thinks will protect her.

Grandpop always excuses him though. Calls it layers."

Layers upon layers, he had always told Noah a lifetime ago. Nothing is as it seems. With Grant,

Noah couldn't imagine how it could be anything less than total selfishness.

"And Mike Conrad?"

Rory snorted. "That pig. He's pissed off because Sabella wouldn't screw him or sell him the

garage. He seemed to want both. He chased after her for over a year until she had to threaten to

sue him for harassment. Then he started getting ugly. He wanted the garage worse than he

wanted her though. Tried to turn the town against her for a while, but that didn't work out too

well. You had too many friends. Once she pulled her ass out of grieving for a man that just

didn't want to come home, she threw herself into the business and pulled it back up. She does

good now."

"Keep sniping at me, Rory, and you're not going to be able to walk for a while."

Rory snorted. He was quiet for long minutes before saying, "Grandpop went to your grave

today. Usually he just walks out and talks to Grandma. But today, he went to your headstone

and just stood looking down at it."

Noah didn't want to hear this. He pushed the rage and pain back inside himself and continued to

watch Duncan prowl the kitchen.

"Strange thing about Grandpop, I just never figured it out until now."

"He didn't grieve," Noah answered for him.

Hell, he should have known better than to think he could fool the old man. Jordan should have

known better. Grandpop had always known what was going on before it ever happened.

"That's true." Rory nodded. "Not even once. And not like Sabella did. I used to stay up at the house some. She would wake me up every night screaming your name, swearing there was

blood on her hands, or swearing you were hurt. Begging me to save you."

Rory jumped to his feet. "Screw this. I'm going home."

"She was right."

He felt Rory still.

"What?" his brother asked carefully.

"She was right. I was hurt, Rory. Damned bad. And by the time I was rescued, I was barely

alive." He watched Sabella walk into the room and smile at Duncan.

The other man finished his wine, kissed her cheek, and they headed for the door. Duncan's

hand was at the small of her back, touching her, leading her. Damn, Noah was going to enjoy

killing him.

He pulled the binoculars away from his face and stared at the house silently for long minutes

before turning back to Rory.

"Grandpop should have grieved," he told him, his voice low. "Because the man I was died in a cell in a rotting jungle. Her husband, your brother. Son and grandson. It all died inside me,

Rory. I'm not the man I was, and I never will be."

Rory gazed back at him for long moments. "That's not what happened," he finally said. "All of you didn't die, Noah. Trust me. All that stupid, testosterone-driven, arrogant-bastard pride of

yours that you always hid from Sabella is still alive and breathing." Rory shot him a scornful

look. "That part survived just fine."

Noah's lips quirked at that. Maybe, in a way, Rory was right there. He'd always hid parts of

himself from those he loved, but Rory was a Malone, he knew that side of himself just as he

knew the side Nathan had held back. Until now. That dark inner core, the dominant arrogance

and powerful will had always been kept hidden, toned down. He had been civilized. Noah

wasn't civilized.

"Follow them," he ordered Rory.

"Do what?" Rory exclaimed, outraged shock in his eyes. "What, you want her to kill me or

something?"

"Do you want me to kill you?" Noah was in his face, his voice low, demanding. "Which one of us can hurt you more?"

He wouldn't really hurt Rory. Hell, that was his kid brother. He almost grinned at the man his

brother had grown into. He felt affection. Fondness. Where Noah had felt next to nothing

emotionally, for years, he now felt flooded with emotions. Emotions that tore at his control,

that made a mockery of the years behind him.

Rory shook his head, his hands propped on his hips, as he lifted his gaze to the heavens. "I

pray. I go to mass. I even remember to respect my elders and help little old ladies across the

street. What the hell did I do to deserve this?"

Noah clapped his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You breathe, Rory. Remember that.

When Malones breathe, shit happens. It's cosmic. It's their fate."

"You suck, man." Rory grimaced. "Bella's gonna kill me."

"Beats me killing you," Noah grunted. "I can make it hurt worse."

Rory glared at him. "Man, you are so clueless. You don't know Belle at all, do you?" Then he