twenty-three
Manuel was enjoying a nice scotch on the rocks when one of his guards appeared in the den’s archway with a scowling brunette standing behind his left shoulder.
Even having never met her before, he knew who she was immediately.
“This woman showed up at the gates demanding to speak with you.”
Manuel nodded and twitched two fingers in the air. “Let her in.”
The woman looked so much like Rena, it left no room for doubt that she must be the big sister he’d been told about.
Sitting down in the brown leather club chair across from him, she didn’t even bother trying to admire the palatial room outfitted with all the latest technology and the best furnishings and décor his money could buy like everyone else who walked through his doors. Instead, her eyes were like lasers, directed solely on him.
He admired her obvious strength, her willingness to meet him head-on, even knowing what she must about him. He had a reputation around here that was hard to outrun.
“What can I do for you, Miss Grace.”
She appeared surprised that he knew who she was. She shouldn’t be. Even if he hadn’t made the connection, he still made it his business to know the people around him. There wasn’t a person, family, or business entity that escaped his notice or knowledge. Everyone made it into his files, no stone left unturned. As the saying went: it was better to keep your enemies close, and he considered everyone his enemy. Everyone.
“You look like a smart man,” she started, which was condescending in itself, “so I’m going to speak plain. Your reputation precedes you, and I don’t want you hanging around my sister anymore.”
Wow. Crossing one knee over the other, he smirked. “I admire your directness, Miss Grace. Not even some of my closest and most familiar business partners have managed that.”
“I don’t need your niceties. I just want to hear you say you’ll cut things off with Rena. Tonight, preferably.”
“I don’t speak for your sister,” he informed her, matching her demeanor.
“Look, I understand that she’s an adult and can speak for herself. I don’t need anyone telling me that. But she has a habit of making ill-informed and irresponsible decisions that more often than not get her into trouble.”
“And you’re trying to be the good sister and steer her away from trouble. In this case, me.”
She tipped her head in agreement. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I understand. I have a daughter myself, and if she were with a man like me, I would be in the same position you are now.”
She narrowed her eyes, not entirely mismatched like her sister’s but they had a hint of color that made them just as unique. “But…”
Smart. “But I happen to enjoy Rena’s company. So I’m going to decline your request.”
Her jaw tightened. “I figured you wouldn’t make this easy,” she muttered. Sitting up taller, she seemed to reach a decision. “I’d hoped we could reach an understanding so I wouldn’t have to pull this card, but you should know that I’m friends with the Spartans.” She allowed the admission to hang in the air between them.
As if he gave a damn. “This is supposed to…what, shock me? Scare me?” Her little bubble appearing to have been popped, she visibly deflated before him as he continued. “I am familiar with your friends, Miss Grace, and they’re hardly a fear factor for me. In fact, they have a standing invitation here whenever they decide to use it.”
Now there was a look he was familiar with. Speechless. Most of the people he worked with or who worked for him wore it often, and he always enjoyed seeing it because it meant that, once again, he was the winner here. No one bested Manuel Contreras. It didn’t stop people from trying though.
“Miss Grace, there is no situation in which I have ever or will ever be told how to conduct my relationships, either personal or professional. A man like me doesn’t get this far taking orders from others. I assume your connection to the Spartans has something to do with matters of the heart, which means you know the kind of man I’m talking about, and that means you understand me. A strong personality equals a strong head in all matters.” In short, he wasn’t one to be fucked with.
“Basically, you’re telling me to mind my business,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m glad you understand me.” He tilted his head. “Does Rena know you’re here?”
“No, and if she did, she wouldn’t be happy about it.”
He’d figured as much. Rena was a lot like him in that regard, but she was hardly unique. Judging by the woman in front of him, her stubborn streak ran in the family.
Too bad he was a one-woman man, something most didn’t expect from someone like him. But a little-known fact about him: When Manuel decided to be exclusive, that’s exactly what he was. It was just that there had been only one time in his life that he’d chosen exclusivity, and that was so far in the past, most didn’t know about it. He preferred it that way. The less people knew about him, the better.
“So I shouldn’t tell her that you’re sitting in my home trying to run her life while she takes a bath upstairs.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“My pleasure,” he said with a friendly smile and tone to match. Standing, Manuel indicated that she do the same. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I can find it myself.”
“If you insist.” Manuel backed off but trailed behind to make sure she did, in fact, leave. He didn’t want strangers wandering around his home, making a nuisance of themselves.
The guard who’d brought her inside was waiting for her in the entryway and opened the door when she was within reach. They all paused then, their eyes falling on yet another unexpected visitor.
“Are you the boyfriend?” Manuel guessed as he approached.
The tall man in leather stepped into the foyer as if he owned the place, eyes filled with malice. Of course, he was the boyfriend. The ownership in his eyes as he ran them down Rena’s sister was unmistakable.
“You good?” he grunted at her like a caveman.
She nodded mutely as she stepped up to him and was immediately tucked protectively under his sheltering arm.
Of course, Manuel recognized him. He knew every face, especially those who entered his home. “You didn’t bring your friends this time.”
“Didn’t know I needed to.”
“You don’t,” he assured him, answering the unspoken question: Was there a threat? The immediate answer—no. But that could change in a heartbeat, and they both knew it. It all depended on him. “But it seems your girlfriend has a problem that can’t be solved tonight.”
The biker’s eyes flashed with understanding. So he was aware of the situation. Good. That made this easier.
“I’ve already told her that I don’t take orders and that she should let her sister make her own decisions.”
“Actually, he all but told me to keep my nose out of it,” she corrected him.
“You shouldn’t have come here alone,” her boyfriend scolded lightly. No doubt he thought Manuel was lowly enough to hurt an unarmed woman. He was, but again, it all depended on the situation. He didn’t make it a habit to hit women. But he also wouldn’t allow one to raise hands or weapon to him unanswered. His former boss learned that lesson the hard way.
Respect. That’s what he commanded and gave in turn.
“You should listen to your boyfriend,” Manuel inserted. “He speaks from experience.”
The men shared a look that wasn’t altogether friendly, but neither was it malicious. They simply shared history and had an understanding. Neither of which, he suspected, the little woman knew anything about.
“Come on, Mouse,” the man directed, the hand hooked around her shoulders pulling her toward the door. “And FYI,” he shot over his shoulder to Manuel, “me and my boys will be taking you up on that offer bright and early.”
“I’ll be sure to have the coffee ready,” Manuel returned, hoping his friendly banter, rather than the combative responses he was probably waiting for, dug deep.
As soon as the two were out of his home, Manuel huffed his annoyance and returned to the den to finish the last inch of scotch left in the glass. He really hated unexpected visitors. Even more than he did solicitors. He should just set the dogs on all of them, put them wherever the hell Luciana was so she’d have some company to pass the time in her burning prison down under.
But he had better and more interesting things to spend his time on.
Striding toward the stairs, he climbed his way to the second floor with swiftness and ease, navigating the hallway to the large master suite in mere moments. Rena wasn’t aware of her sister’s interference, but he planned to fill her in on all the details. Had the roles been reversed, he’d want to know what kind of people surrounded him and the plans they devised—so he could hatch appropriate plans to deal with them.
But he didn’t find Rena in the bathtub. Nor did he find her resting in his bed.
He did, however, find her in a most unexpected place: the adjoining room. His office. And she didn’t look as if she’d been bathing at all, still dressed in the clothes she’d come up in, her hair perfectly dry and curled just the way she’d arrived, every bit of makeup still in place.
“What are you doing?” he asked, scaring the shit out of her. She leaped up from her bent position behind the desk, slamming the drawer she’d been searching through shut, then screeching and yanking it open again.
She’d closed her finger in it, but Manuel wasn’t concerned about any injuries she might have inflicted. He wanted to know what the hell she was up to.
“Manny,” she said, eyes wide.
Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I asked you a question.” Sinking his hands into his pants pockets, he took slow steps into the room.
“I was…” Her eyes darted around the room, to the desk, then the drawer she’d been rifling through. “Looking for paper. I wanted to write a note to myself for tomorrow for some errands I need to run. I forget everything.” She laughed nervously.
He narrowed his eyes. Should he believe her? She certainly wanted him to. But no, she was up to something. He knew a liar when he stood before one.
“What’s wrong with the tablet in front of you?” She glanced down at the paper, then at the cup of pens that he’d planned to point out next. “What are you really doing in here, Rena?”
“I…”
Now he was angry. If another lie came out of her mouth, he was going to have to do something very bad that would not end his night how he’d planned. “Consider who you’re talking to before you say anything,” he advised as he came to a stand on the opposite side of the desk in front of her.
She met his unwavering, stern gaze filled with warning. Manuel ran his finger across the shining silver metal letter opener lying at his fingertips.
“I...” She stopped herself, then heaved a sigh, seeming to have resolved some big internal battle. This was what he was looking for, the truth. He was pleased that it hadn’t taken her long to give it, nor did he have to drag it out of her.
“I was looking for something—”
“What?”
Her hands flew up into the air and came back down just as fast, slapping the sides of her thighs. “I don’t know! Something. Anything. It’s not like I have much experience in espionage.”
Espionage? “You’re not making any sense.”
Dropping down into the large, wingback chair, she scrubbed both palms down her face, then sat forward, propping her elbows on her knees, then looked up at him then down at the sharp letter opener he continued to stroke, then stood back up again. All nervous behaviors that rankled.
“Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Just swear you won’t kill me or anything drastic, okay? I mean, I want to be a good-looking corpse when I finally do bite the big one, but I wanna be, like, sixty. Old, you know?”
“I’m not going to kill you. Yet. It all depends on how you answer in the next five minutes.”
“Well, shit. Then maybe you should sit down for this.” He didn’t. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll just start from the top.”
Manuel stood there listening, not really shocked or surprised, but still somewhat caught off guard by her admissions. He’d never really trusted her because he never placed his full trust in anyone, but for a man who prided himself in always having his guard up and guns ready, he had been…not ready. For any of this.
What really stunned him was the realization that he’d placed any trust in her at all. That he’d—apparently—let her get closer than he’d intended. Let her not only into his home but…maybe even his heart. And here she was proving, once again, why he was always so careful.
Not this time. Why not this time?
At least she hadn’t been lying about everything. She was a troubled soul. Had been in a lot of trouble over the years. He’d already known that, though, having had a background check run before they even exchanged words.
But he’d been her mark for far longer.
So the FBI was investigating him. Looking to take him down. No big surprise there. A man like him, doing what he did, always drew the law’s interest. That came with the territory. What really got him was that he hadn’t seen that angle, hadn’t even suspected.
“What have you told them so far?”
“Nothing. Except that you’re basically a steel vault.”
That was true. He didn’t let anyone get too close. He cycled out his employees like he did underwear, making sure no one learned his routine too closely, couldn’t pinpoint any part of his business or how he ran it. There would always be details left up to the imagination, holes to be filled that couldn’t be guessed at. Where most had already met their maker by his age, mystery had proven to be the key component of his longevity. That and pure cunning.
“So…” he started, stepping to the side to make his away around the desk toward her. “Was it worth the risk? Your freedom for mine?”
She gave him a pained look that, for once, he wasn’t sure how to read. Was she regretting her deception for his sake or hers?
“I never wanted to do it in the first place. I hated doing it after I got to know you though,” she confessed as if she really cared for him. If he wasn’t careful, he might actually believe her.
“Why?”
“Because I like you. A lot. More than I should. I…I think I’m falling for you, Manny.” If possible, her expression held even more regret now. Was loving him such a sin? An abominable thought that filled a person with self-loathing? He wanted to smack the look right off her deceitful face, but he couldn’t lift his voice much less a hand to her.
His hands shot out, and he grabbed her upper arms. “You lying little whore. You think you can come into my house and use me, investigate me, turn me over to the police, and expect me to just let you walk away?”
“It was a mistake! I’m so, so sorry, Manny. I wish I’d never agreed to any of this,” she cried, real tears escaping her eyes. I almost believe her. “You weren’t real to me then. I didn’t know I would feel like this. I didn’t know,” she blubbered, and he hated himself for feeling…anything for her right now.
There was a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in years. A sensation, as if he were falling from a cliff’s edge straight into a ravine—certain death.
Enraged with her and his own reaction to her tears, he shook her, shouting, “You ruin me! You ruin me!”
His hold on her loosened, and she collapsed into his arms, hugging herself to his chest as she sobbed into his shirt.
For once in his life, Manuel didn’t have a ready plan. He was adrift in the ocean, in a tailspin of doubt and confusion, because the emotions rolling through him now weren’t something he’d ever expected to feel again. Yet, just like the first time, he only felt their true, full weight at the exact moment it all went upside down.
But this time, the ship hadn’t sunk. It was listing, but he might be able to repair it…if he wanted to.
Slowly, Manuel’s arms came up to curl around Rena’s back, tightening down little by little until she was safely cocooned against him. That was the moment he knew he couldn’t stay mad, couldn’t regret anything that had to do with her. Couldn’t walk away, couldn’t let go.
His voice calmer, but no less strained, he said, “I think I know how to get us out of this.”