CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSS WASN’T IN the mood to hear all the nonsense. Around him, his cohorts badgered, argued and complained. It was annoying as fuck. “Enough already. What’s done is done.”
Olsen, his unofficial second in command, sat beside him. “Just because you’ve gone soft on her doesn’t mean the plan was bad. We still need our money, and she’s still the quickest, easiest way to get it.”
Ross shook his head. The bitter coffee he drank made his stomach burn. After the sleepless night he’d had, it was too early for this shit, too early to meet in an abandoned house, too early to be convinced that Sahara should still be a target.
And yet, at the same time, it was already too late for him.
He kept remembering the contempt in her beautiful blue eyes, her complete disdain when he mentioned grabbing dinner to talk. He’d thought for sure that she’d come along willingly to learn more about Scott. He’d have happily, ruthlessly, used her curiosity, and her love for her brother, against her.
But no, she was too sensible to fall for it. Even more troubling, she was already involved with a damned fighter who looked to be perpetually angry.
That burned worse than the shitty coffee.
Without inflection, hoping to discourage his nitwit cohorts, Ross said, “She’s a lost cause.” With any luck, the others would buy it.
Of course he didn’t mean it, not when it came to his personal involvement, but they didn’t know that.
“We disagree,” Terrance said. “Once we have her, she’ll pay up.”
Ross shook his head. “She’s too smart for us to catch her off guard again. She won’t be left alone, not for a single minute.”
The fighter stuck to her as if they were already married.
Except when he let Chelsea Tuttle grope him. What the hell was up with that?
Could it mean Sahara wasn’t really all that involved with him? He’d been watching her for a while and she never dated. Somehow, while he’d been growing enamored during his surveillance, she’d been hooking up without him noticing.
Hopefully, it was only a hookup—and with any luck, her angry protector wouldn’t bring more danger to her with his associations.
“So she has a man or two with her.” Olsen shrugged. “Big deal. We can handle that.”
“Those bodyguards of hers are ex-MMA fighters, not ill-trained street thugs. You saw what happened to those two.” He gestured at Andy and Terrance, whose wounds hadn’t completely faded yet from the beatings they’d received.
Terrance’s still-swollen nose sat off center on his face, framed by two black eyes. A patchwork of mottled bruising, splits and lumps covered Andy’s face. When he smiled, you couldn’t help noticing the missing tooth.
Ross shook his head. “Whoever rescued her that day worked the two of them over as if it was his job—a job he loved.” Ross was willing to bet it was her escort. That one certainly looked capable of inflicting all sorts of damage. Ross wasn’t afraid of anyone, but Sahara’s friend had given him pause.
“There are four of us,” Olsen reminded him. “And you’re the best at fighting.”
Yeah, he’d convinced them of that. Beating any one of them wouldn’t make him break a sweat, but that wasn’t saying much.
Still, he put on his macho act and nodded. “I can handle myself, but I don’t see the point in doing it. It’d be a waste of time because Sahara doesn’t know where Scott is. That means we can’t use her to make him pay.”
Andy gave a huff of disagreement. “She knows, but even if she doesn’t, so what? Body Armor is her company now, so she can damn well pay us.”
“That was never the plan.” Sometimes he hated dealing with imbeciles. “Scott owes us. Scott should pay.” Sahara shouldn’t have to pay for her bastard brother.
Besides, his pals were running short on patience and high on frustration. He wasn’t sure he could control them and he didn’t want Sahara in any real danger. If any one of them touched her, Ross knew he wouldn’t be able to control his temper.
She was his. Somehow, he’d make it so.
Idly, Olsen turned his coffee cup on the scratchy surface of the thrift store table. “You didn’t mind getting the money from her before.”
Ross swiped a hand through the air. “That was just a gut reaction, a desperate grab to make it work.” And an attempt to spend more time with her. “But it’s not what we’re about.”
“Maybe it’s not what you’re about,” Olsen said. “But I’m betting the rest of us feel different.”
Ross twisted to face him, his anger dangerously close to the surface—and his phone alerted him to a message. Glad for the interruption, he withdrew it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Money is in your apartment. Now leave her alone.
His eyes flared. No fucking way. It couldn’t be...
Shooting to his feet, Ross held his phone out in front of him as if someone might jump out of it.
“What is it?” Olsen stood, too, his red brows scrunched together. “Problem?”
“No.” The last thing he needed was the other three overreacting. Fear made them reckless, and that could be dangerous for everyone. Keeping the screen turned so no one else could see the phone, Ross texted back, Who is this?
The message wouldn’t send.
Damn, he hated mysteries. Only one way to know the truth. Pocketing the phone, he said, “I have to go.”
“Go?” Terrance asked. “Where?”
“Back to my place.” His new place that no one should know about. If the money was there, that’d mean someone had been watching him closely.
Pair the text with the fact that someone had shot at him, and he was starting to think he’d finally found Scott.
It didn’t bode well at all that Chelsea Tuttle had, on the same night, been cozying up with Sahara’s date.
Damn. If Scott was around, he had to urge the others to caution, so he paused in the doorway. “Someone is on to us. Watch your backs, okay?”
Terrance scowled. “What the hell does that mean?”
He couldn’t confide in them, not until he knew for sure what was happening. “I just have a feeling.”
“But what about the girl?” Andy demanded.
To appease them, Ross said, “You’re right. We’ll get her.” At least if he had her, she’d be safe. “Give me a little time to work out a plan.” And to figure out how best to protect her. “We can’t afford to fuck this up again.”
“When?” Olsen asked. “I’m getting damned tired of waiting.”
Ross shook his head. “I’ll be back in touch soon, and until then you should all lie low.” If he found the money in his new place, he’d wait until he was sure he wasn’t being followed, then he’d give them their shares.
He knew how badly they wanted the cash, but he saw no reason to get their hopes up until he was sure.
It could be a trap, and he could be walking right into it.
To settle things with Sahara, he’d take his chances.
* * *
BRAND DESPERATELY WANTED to get Sahara out of town for a bit. The trip this morning to visit Miles and Maxi would take them to the country in southern Ohio, very near the Kentucky border. That worked perfectly for him.
All through the night, he kept seeing again how Moran had dared to touch her in such a familiar way, as if he’d had the right.
He’d approached them without fear of repercussions—until someone had taken a shot at him.
The man was confident and unpredictable, and from what Sahara had told him, he was obsessed with her. That worried Brand.
Whoever had fired the gun complicated the worry. He hated the unknown.
She’d talked to her PI last night, but the man claimed he hadn’t uncovered anything yet. Brand had seen her disappointment, but it hadn’t dented her unwavering determination. Every so often she smiled, as if over some secret thought.
It worried him.
While Sahara had slept soundly tucked against him, her delicate, manicured hand on his chest, her long hair spilling over his arm, he’d lain awake going over various scenarios in his mind.
Why had her kidnapper tried to warn him? What had he meant about chatting up a lunatic? Was he talking about Douglas Grant?
Sahara’s soft body heated his; her slow, deep breaths had teased his skin. All of it had amplified his need to protect her.
What he felt for this one particular woman defied description.
Somehow, he had to unravel the threat, but that seemed such a daunting task when Sahara herself refused to worry.
He closed his eyes, agonized over the idea of her standing there with a kidnapper, asking for information.
It was a long time before he’d finally gotten a little sleep.
Very early the next morning, when the sun had barely risen, they got on their way. Justice followed along behind them, just in case. Since he was going to the same place, the only inconvenience was getting up earlier than he’d planned. Fallon, Justice’s soon-to-be-wife, was with him, so he knew Justice would be extra vigilant.
Leese had already found plenty of info on Ross Moran. The man was mostly legit, working as a private investigator and, when necessary, extra muscle, but as proven with the kidnapping, he often went to extremes if the price was right. Upper elites hired him, like Douglas Grant, but that didn’t rule out the scumbags. Unfortunately, he was no longer at the last residence listed, so it would require more tracking before Brand could get answers.
Answers he’d happily beat from the man.
They’d eventually find Ross, he didn’t doubt it, and they’d start with questioning Douglas Grant.
The powerful DA might not appreciate the interrogation, but Brand didn’t really give a damn. He was complicit in putting Sahara in danger.
Unfortunately, Sahara insisted on sending some of the older employees—the bodyguards she’d reassigned after hiring Leese, Justice and Miles—to visit Douglas. Those men, she claimed, were a different breed and better suited to putting Douglas at ease so he’d talk more freely.
Didn’t matter to Brand if the man was at ease or not, but this was one of those circumstances where she was the boss, a damn good boss, so he bit back his complaints and trusted her to handle it.
In the seat next to him, looking fresh in skinny jeans, a long sleeve V-neck ribbed shirt that hugged her body and rubber calf boots, Sahara fretted—but not about her latest misadventures. “I don’t see why we can’t stop at the store. It’s bad manners to go to a party empty-handed.”
“It’s not a party,” Brand explained for the third time. “I’ll be helping to build a gazebo. Maxi wants to feed us while we’re there, she said so, and Miles stocked the cooler, too. It’s their way of thanking us.”
“I’m also going to help.”
“Sure.” He wondered if Sahara had ever swung a hammer. He imagined her driving a nail, and had to smile. Did she think the jeans and boots fit the part? He had to admit, she looked great in her version of weekend work-wear. He especially liked her hair in the thick braid.
He liked it even better loose.
He liked it most of all spread out on a pillow with him over her, each of them straining for release.
Switching gears, she said, “I keep thinking about Chelsea Tuttle. You’re sure you weren’t flirting with her?”
Over coffee that morning, she’d asked questions about the woman who’d come on to him at the party. Brand wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the name, not after the way Sahara had reacted.
“I’m not a liar, honey.” He glanced at her. “You didn’t recognize her at first?”
“She’s had a lot of work done.” Half under her breath, she added, “Not all of it complimentary.”
Brand held in his laugh. “She looked too young for plastic surgery.”
“She is, but she’s practically addicted to it. She’s also obnoxious and full of herself, and very self-centered. Awful rumors have swirled around her for years now.”
“What rumors?”
Sahara lifted one shoulder. “Perversions, money problems, indiscretions.” She frowned. “Maybe that’s what Ross was talking about when he approached us outside.”
Brand was still pissed over her using the kidnapper’s first name. “Perversions, huh?”
“It’s said that she likes to watch.”
“So, a voyeur?” He shook his head. “Not my thing, but it doesn’t sound all that bad. My rule is to each his or her own, long as no one is being hurt.”
She leaned toward him and said in a false, ominous whisper, “But people do get hurt—that’s what she likes to watch.”
“No way.” He’d disliked Chelsea from the start, but she hadn’t struck him as sadistic. Just obnoxious and too grabby.
Sahara nodded. “That’s one of the rumors. She gets off on seeing other people humiliated, degraded and hurt. Normally I pay no attention to rumors, but if you’d talked to her instead of letting her lick your ear, you might have picked up on her cruel bent. She is not a nice woman.”
“I didn’t let her do anything, her tongue was never in my ear and we did talk, smart-ass. Just not very long.” Brand gave her a look. “I wanted to check on you, and good thing, since you had a kidnapper breathing down your cleavage.”
Sahara scoffed. “You talked, huh? About what?”
“Mostly you.” Briefly, he wondered if he should tell her the whole truth, but then decided, why not? He liked her show of jealousy, especially since he’d been jealous, too. It wasn’t like she and Chelsea would ever be friends. From what he’d heard so far, they were more like enemies. “She’s not a fan of yours.”
“Well, I would hope not. After all, I have morals, and she does not.”
Brand smiled over that. “How do you know her anyway?”
“Her father contacted Body Armor to hire personal security for her during a big bash. Not uncommon for the wealthy, especially for Chelsea since her father considers her his precious little jewel.” Sahara twisted her mouth in distaste. “Unfortunately, the agents came back saying they were the ones who’d needed protection—from her. She treated them as bought-and-paid-for slaves, which she figured included sexual favors.”
Brand whistled low. “We’re talking about the same men now retired to less high-profile details?” Far as he could tell, they were sticks-in-the-mud, suit-wearing uptight middle-aged snobs who might have been top-paid bodyguards at one point, but were probably more for show than results.
“Yes. Nothing about the men said sexy and available, but Chelsea didn’t care. When they refused her, she carried on in front of them, enacting sexual games that they had to watch in order to stay close enough to protect her. Before you suggest it, no, they didn’t enjoy it. In fact, the overall consensus was revulsion.”
And he’d been alone with the woman? He should count himself lucky that she’d only tried to cop a few feels. “She was pushy,” Brand admitted. “And she made it clear she didn’t like you. But I never guessed she’d go that far.”
“She’s been entitled since the day she was born.”
“So were you, but you’re not pervy.”
She sent him a brazen smile. “I can be pervy when the mood strikes me—and when the right man is available.”
Brand scowled.
Laughing, she said, “I meant you.”
“Oh.” Yeah, when it came to sex with Sahara, he was game 100 percent. “Anything you want, honey, anytime you want it, you let me know.”
“Thank you. I think I will.” She checked a nail. “So, what did the bitch say about me?”
Brand gave a short laugh of surprise. “Bitch, huh?” He really did enjoy her attitude.
“I know her better than you.”
“I get that. So tell me, what happened with the men she hired from Body Armor? They told Scott what she’d done?”
Sahara nodded. “She’d been after Scott for a while so she was always on her best behavior around him. He never saw her more devious, cutthroat side. Mostly he considered her a spoiled princess type, but not really dangerous. She’d told Scott that yes, she’d flirted with the men after having too much to drink, but that she hadn’t meant any harm. It came down to her perception against theirs, and Scott decided they’d only misunderstood. He didn’t want to condemn her after one incident, you know? Men,” she said in disgust. “They never seem to realize how lethal women can be.”
Suddenly, Brand knew that Sahara had taken matters into her own hands. “What did you do?”
With a careless shrug, she explained, “She was doing her best to get the guards into trouble, and that really infuriated me, especially when Scott didn’t one hundred percent side with them.”
“You went against your brother?”
“I protected my brother...by warning her off.” As if she thought he might criticize her for it, she rushed on, saying, “Scott had done the same for me plenty of times. He was always checking up on anyone I dated, so I just returned the favor. He seemed blinded to her true nature, but I sure wasn’t. So I...had her followed.”
“Wow,” Brand said. Sahara’s relationship with her brother was nothing short of incredible. To him, it sounded like they were close, but also adversarial.
And for sure, Scott overstepped—often.
Memories had her scowling. “I ended up with some juicy recordings of her in some very bizarre acts.”
“Bizarre how?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’d love to give you every gory detail, but part of my deal with her was that I wouldn’t expose her if she’d stay away from Scott. Let’s just say the rumors are true and leave it at that.”
He imagined Chelsea Tuttle causing harm and it turned his stomach. “One question, okay?”
“All right.”
“Did she always have willing partners?”
Loathing hung heavy in her tone when Sahara replied, “Unfortunately, no, and that’s where I drew the line. I reported her to the DA.”
“Douglas Grant?”
“Yes. Because he knew her better than I did, and because I’d agreed not to expose her, I took Grant’s word that he’d handle it.”
“Since he told me she’s like a niece to him, I gather he did nothing?”
“No, he didn’t—the lying bastard.”
Brand knew her well enough to guess. “You took matters into your own hands?”
“In a way. I told Chelsea that if I ever heard of her enacting her sick games on anyone else, or if she ever sought out my brother again, I’d happily destroy her. Publicly, financially and with some physical harm thrown in.”
Yup, that sounded like the Sahara he knew and lo—Brand pulled up short on that thought. It was too soon, too many things were up in the air, and...the idea of caring that much unsettled him.
But he couldn’t keep from touching her.
Reaching across the seat, he rested his hand over Sahara’s thigh. “You’re a hell of a great sister, Sahara.”
“I wonder if Scott would agree.” She covered his hand with her own. “So spill. What did the evil one say about me?”
“Well, it makes more sense now, but basically she said you were a nuisance at Body Armor.”
“Of all the nerve.”
She sounded only mildly insulted, so Brand guessed she’d been expecting something worse. “I shut her down.”
“Did you?”
“Accused her of being jealous.” He grinned. “She didn’t take it well.”
“I notice it didn’t get her off you.”
“No, I’m not sure anything short of a crowbar would have accomplished that. The lady was grabby.”
“Lady is hardly an apt description. Just be glad you didn’t go off alone with her. God only knows what would have happened to you.”
Since he knew he could hold his own against a woman, no matter how devious or twisted she might be, Brand laughed.
They chatted for another twenty minutes while driving, until Sahara got out her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Just trying to reply to that text again.”
He waited while she thumbed in a message. “And?”
“Still not received.” She dropped the phone back into her purse. “It is so frustrating.”
Brand wondered when she would mention her suspicion. He knew who she thought had sent that text.
After everything that had happened, damned if he wasn’t starting to think it possible, too.
Instead of saying what she had on her mind, she went back to her nemesis. “I still say you looked awfully cozy with Chelsea.”
“I was shaking her off and you know it. You’re the one who let your kidnapper crawl into your space.”
“I was trying to find out about my brother.”
He kept silent, waiting.
“Brand?”
“Yeah?” The sun came out with a vengeance, glaring across the windshield.
“Can I tell you something?”
He slipped on sunglasses as he took the exit off the freeway. “You can tell me anything.”
“Okay, then.” She drew a breath. “I care an awful lot about you.”
Not what he’d thought she would say.
As the words stroked over him like a warm caress, Brand slowly smiled. “Is that so?” He waited for further confirmation, then he’d tell her that he felt the same.
In a sudden rush, she said, “I also think my brother is alive, and in fact, I believe he’s the one who sent the warning shot at Ross and then texted me.” She ended that with a huge, beatific smile.
Damn, Sahara knew how to take him off guard. First, she sidetracked him with the admission of how much she cared, and then brought him sharply back around with the speculation on her brother that he’d been expecting.
He took a left off the exit, noting how the scenery changed to tall trees and endless fields. The colors of fall were everywhere, making for a beautiful sight beneath the blue sky and bright sun. “That’s a dangerous habit, honey.”
“What?”
“Saying things that make my head spin while I’m driving.”
“Why would your head spin? It makes sense. Who else would be protecting me if not Scott?”
So she didn’t want to talk about her first declaration? Since he wasn’t sure what to say in return, he let that go for now.
As to her brother, he tended to agree, but he wanted to hear her thoughts before he drew too many conclusions of his own. “Tell me why you’re so sure it’s him.” If it turned out they were both right, someone would have a lot of explaining to do.
She turned to face him. “If Scott faked his own death, he had to have had a really good reason. If that reason still exists, it’s possible he can’t come forward yet, but of course, he’d want to protect me anyway. There’s no way he’d let me be hurt if he could stop it.”
Brand took yet another turn and the paved road narrowed to a rough gravel lane as it led to the inherited farm where Maxi and Miles now lived. “If you believe all that, then you also have to believe he knew that Ross Moran kidnapped you.” And he had done nothing. “Why else would he worry about the man being near you, unless he knew he was a kidnapper?”
“Ross said he did a job for Scott and never got paid. If Scott didn’t pay him, he had to have a good reason.”
“So we can assume that he knows Ross personally.” Scott would have known the danger existed, but he hadn’t insulated Sahara from it.
In Brand’s view, that was unforgivable.
For only a second, Sahara considered that. “Maybe Scott just found out about the kidnapping. Maybe—”
From a cornfield on the passenger’s side, a beat-up truck barreled out, engine revving at breakneck speed.
Cursing, Brand thrust out an arm to pin Sahara back in her seat, then hit the gas, steering one-handed as he attempted to avoid a collision.
He didn’t quite make it.
Deliberately, the truck clipped the back of her car. The wheels lost traction on the loose gravel. They fishtailed wildly, bumped in and out of the ditch before Brand brought the car to a jarring halt in the middle of the road.
He glanced in the rearview mirror; he knew Justice wasn’t far behind, but he didn’t yet see him.
The truck, engine still revving, filled his rearview mirror.
“Call Justice if you can.”
Sahara, wide-eyed, scrambled to grab her phone. Her purse had spilled to the floor and it took her a frantic few seconds to locate it.
“Tell him we’re riding like hell to the house, so if he doesn’t catch up, that’s why.” Just as Brand finished, the truck lunged forward, spitting gravel and filling the air with dust.
Vaguely aware of Sahara talking low and fast, Brand stepped on the gas and sped away. He concentrated on staying ahead of the truck and on the country road, despite the sharp twists and turns.
Seeing a big curve ahead, he went faster, saying to Sahara, “Fuck this.” They’d never make it to the house without another incident. He had to act now. “When I get out, you slide over behind the wheel.”
“Brand!”
“Anything happens, you drive on. Do you understand me?”
“I won’t leave you,” she shouted, her tone panicked, her expression appalled.
“You will, because I can’t do shit if I have to worry about you. Now promise me, damn it.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
He jerked the car to the side of the road, slammed it into Park and stepped out—his gun already in his hand.
The truck skidded around the corner. The driver spotted him taking aim in the middle of the road, and swerved in surprise before slamming on the brakes.
Brand fired. His first shot hit the grille of the truck. The second caught the hood and the third destroyed a tire.
To his surprise, the chickenshits immediately drove into a field in a giant U-turn and ran off.
Apparently a direct confrontation hadn’t been on the agenda.
With the sunshine pouring through their windshield and highlighting both their faces, he’d gotten a good look at them.
They were the same men he’d pounded on when he’d found them talking about Sahara after locking her in a basement. Men who worked with Ross Moran.
So much for the bastard not hurting her.
He watched until he couldn’t see the truck anymore, then turned back to Sahara’s car. She was behind the wheel, the car in gear and her foot on the brake.
It reassured him that she had listened and was ready to react. Now he knew he could trust her to be reasonable when necessary. Keeping an eye on the road, Brand headed to the driver’s side.
Sahara immediately put the car in Park. Eyes sparking and with a slight tremor to her voice, she climbed out, shouting, “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Bemused, Brand murmured, “So much for being reasonable.”
When she faced him defiantly, Brand sucked in his breath.
“Damn.” Until that moment, he hadn’t realized that she’d hit her head. A thin trail of blood cut down her forehead, across one eyebrow, then along her temple. It came from a swelling lump on the right side of her forehead. “You’re hurt!”
Mouth tight, she blinked at him. “That sounds like an accusation.” She thrust a finger at his chest. “I can’t help it that my head bumped the window. It’s fine.”
“You’re not fine, damn it.” He pulled off his shirt and reached for her. “You’re bleeding.”
She took a swift step back. “Don’t you dare soil your shirt! We’re already going to be late getting to the party. I don’t want you showing up shirtless.”
Incredulous, Brand stared at her. Adrenaline still pumped through his blood, and he could barely focus around the rage burning through him. “It’s not a party,” he gritted out, “and we’re heading to the hospital to have you checked.” Again, he reached for her.
She bumped into the open door. Holding up a hand, she said, “I have tissues in the car so I don’t need your shirt, and we’re not going to the hospital. If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fine.”
Brand lifted her chin, winced at the expanding bruise and made a decision. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pull the boss card.”
With a gasp, she asked, “To insist on the hospital? No.”
“We agreed—”
“I want to go to the party. I really do. Why can’t you just trust me when I say that I’m okay?”
It wasn’t a damned party, and she was hurt, but her blue eyes pleaded with him. He wasn’t a big enough dick to insist when she’d obviously been looking forward to a day out.
Against his better judgment, he said, “You’ll tell me if you start to feel sick, if your head hurts or if you get dizzy?”
“Yes, I promise.”
He blew out a breath. “I do trust you, so if you say you’re not hurt that bad, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Thank you.” She smiled now that she’d gotten her way. “I actually have a first aid kit in the trunk. I just need a bandage or something.”
Or something. “Remember, if you start to feel bad in any way, we’re going.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
Thrusting a hand into his hair, he growled with impotent frustration. She was the most infuriating, unique, incredible woman...
Just then Justice came around the corner, saw them and pulled up at the side of the road.
He whistled when he got out. “Damn, Sahara. You okay?”
Happy now that she’d gotten her way, she all but sang, “Yes, of course,” and went around to the passenger side to get the tissues while Brand opened the trunk.
“She bumped her head,” Brand explained to Justice, watching as Fallon hurried to join Sahara. “I wanted to take her to the hospital—”
“And she refused.” Justice nodded. “Yeah, Sahara isn’t a wimp, but she is god-awful stubborn. It’d probably require a severed limb for her to willingly go.”
Another surge of anger cut through him. “Probably. Help me keep an eye on her, okay?”
“You bet.”
“Did you see the truck?” Brand found the kit and went around to the passenger side.
“Driving like a bat out of hell, one tire blown. I’d have given chase but—”
“You have Fallon with you.”
“Yeah.” Justice added, “Plus I wasn’t sure what had happened with you two, whether or not you needed help.”
While Brand used a premoistened antiseptic swab to clean away the blood from her face, Sahara detailed the “adventure” with enthusiasm. “I was so impressed with Brand’s driving. He’s as good as I am, and you know I don’t give that compliment lightly.”
Justice snorted. “You’re a lunatic. I’m still traumatized from the time you decided we were being chased.”
She grinned. “I thought we were.”
“Bull. You just wanted to show off.”
Her grin widened even more. “You could be right.”
Brand had difficulty breathing, so he sure as hell couldn’t grin. She was hurt, bruised and bleeding. The attacks were adding up. No one knew when the next might happen, or how much worse it might be.
How could she keep joking?
Fallon, Justice’s fiancée, joined them, her soft eyes concerned. “At least you didn’t get much blood in your hair.”
“True. Good thing I’d put it in a braid.” She looked down at herself. “Unfortunately, I did get some on my shirt, but it’s dark so I should be able to rinse it out.”
Already the bleeding had stopped, but Brand saw that the swelling was worse. “We need to get some ice on this.”
“We’re not far from the house,” she said. “I’ll take care of it then.” She stared up at Brand. “Is it colorful?”
“Very.”
“Is that why you look so grim?”
The urge to chase down the bastards and annihilate them scorched any efforts at being pleasant. “We were damn near T-boned on purpose, driven off the road and you got hurt. What do you think would have happened if they’d gotten to you?”
With a small butterfly bandage now on her head, she snuggled against him, saying soothingly, “I knew you wouldn’t let that happen.”
Did she really have that much faith in him—or was it that nothing ever truly rattled her? He couldn’t say, but he crushed her close, uncaring that Justice rolled his eyes and Fallon smiled.
Against his chest, Sahara asked, “Is my car hurt?”
“Yeah, but it can be repaired.”
“I know.” She patted his back. “You recognized them, too?”
“The same bozos I stomped when I—”
“Rescued me.” She leaned back to grin at him. “And this time was no less daring.”
“Sahara,” he said with exasperation. The last thing he wanted was for her to romanticize the whole thing.
She turned to Justice. “I wish you could have seen him step out to the middle of the road, legs braced apart, arms straight as he took aim. Very Dirty-Harryish.” She shivered dramatically. “Made my heart pound, it was so sexy.”
“Yeah,” Justice said, giving Brand a hard whack on the shoulder. “I bet that’s exactly how he wants you to describe it.”
The irony in his tone made Brand’s ears hot. “Fuck off, Justice.”
Both Sahara and Fallon laughed.
With everyone being ridiculous, it was another fifteen minutes before they finally arrived at the house.
Fall was especially in evidence here. Maxi had inherited a small house on a beautiful piece of land, surrounded by an assortment of trees now displaying various shades of red, orange and yellow. Sunlight glittered through the leaves and off the large pond. Dozens of feral cats perched around the property, watching their arrival.
Justice had obviously called ahead because the crew had congregated to greet them. Miles already had an ice pack ready, and his fiancée, Maxi, led Sahara directly to a full lounge chair where she and Catalina, Leese’s wife, insisted she sit.
Good luck with that, Brand wanted to say. He’d be willing to bet Sahara wouldn’t stay down for more than a minute or two. The woman didn’t understand her own lack of strength.
Catalina served Sahara a tall, cool drink. Together, the women huddled around her. They were a mix of styles, with Catalina’s long light brown hair, blue eyes and casual flair for sloppy comfort, Fallon’s shoulder-length dark hair and darker eyes with more tailored clothes, and Maxi’s long blond hair and cutting-edge fashion.
And then there was Sahara, different from each of them, a self-proclaimed shark—who at the moment appeared overwhelmed.
Brand noticed the slightly dumbfounded expression on her face, and found his first smile. To Leese, he asked, “Was this your idea?”
Leese nodded in satisfaction. “I might’ve given the women a nudge, but you know how they are. It didn’t take much.”
“Nurturing,” Miles said. “Every one of them.”
All but Sahara. She was a caring person, but she wasn’t much of a coddler.
He wondered how she’d be with kids. He recalled the assignment she’d had early on protecting the little girl. She’d kill for a child, no problem, and he knew she’d raise a daughter or son to be strong and independent. That was a lot, whether she was into kissing boo-boos or not.
“She’ll tell any one of us to back off,” Leese said, “but she tries to be nicer to the ladies.”
Justice laughed. “I hadn’t noticed that before, but you’re right. Look at her taking aspirin from Fallon! If I tried that, she’d tell me to take them.”
“Or ask you, in a very condescending voice, if you’d managed to hurt yourself,” Miles said.
Brand watched her, how carefully she reacted with the women, how stoic she was about her injury, and he knew he couldn’t fight the inevitable.
He was in love.
It didn’t surprise him; Sahara had been stealing his heart little by little ever since he’d met her.
The big question was what to do about it.