Chapter Two

 

 

Panic squeezed Leo’s chest with painful spasms while sounds from the hotel tavern swirled around him. Propped on a barstool at the end of the bar, he clutched a tumbler in his white-knuckled fist and stared down into the amber liquid.

He hadn’t had a drink in more than two months, mainly to test whether he could do it. It’d ended up being one of the hardest things he’d ever done, and now his tenuous resolve for sobriety had snapped. All because he’d agreed to play bodyguard to Owen’s kid sister.

What the hell had he been thinking? Lord knew he couldn’t be trusted to keep anyone safe from harm.

He snagged the glass and swallowed several large gulps of the smooth whiskey.

Alcohol was like an old lover he kept coming back to. Though he’d later regret the lapse in judgment, she gave him what he needed to get through the dark, lonely moments. Beer for those times when he couldn’t afford to get drunk but couldn’t bear to stay sober. Wine to curb the sadness. Vodka to cool the rage. Whiskey to dilute The Fear. None, however, no matter the quantity, managed to truly black out the memories, and his search for The One continued.

The bartender stopped in front of Leo. “How we doing tonight, sir?”

“Good.”

It was a lie, of course. Just one of many Leo told these days.

“What brings you to Boston?”

“Visiting some friends,” he mumbled.

The lies were the only thing that gave him comfort. They were soft and soothing, and he unashamedly wrapped himself with their fuzzy warmth. Alcohol made the lies believable, and for that, he’d love her forever.

“You need another?”

Leo nodded and downed the last drops of liquor before sliding the empty tumbler across the bar.

While he waited for his drink, he checked his cell phone again. Relief rattled through him that no new messages had come in, including none from Owen, who was supposed to text Leo the sister’s address.

A freshly poured whiskey appeared on the bar before him and he wrapped his hand possessively around the stout glass. It seemed he’d been given a night’s reprieve from his unpleasant task.

Tomorrow, when Owen sent the information, Leo would stop by the sister’s house, make sure she wasn’t dead, and do not one single thing more. If she was in trouble, or needed help, Owen was going to have to find someone else to deal with it.

Leo was too busy tending to the one and only item on his to-do list. He signaled the bartender.

Drink and stay drunk.

 

 

By the time the police finished their report, the sun barreled toward the horizon and Prue’s stomach grumbled with hunger. Rather than return to her apartment to change out of the peasant top and fitted capri pants she’d dressed in for work that morning, she drove straight to the hotel where her sister, Faith, was staying while in town for a professional conference.

She parked near the restaurant’s front entrance and scurried inside. In the soft lighting, she scanned the crowded room until she caught sight of Faith waving at her from the far side of the bar.

Prue picked her way through the crush of bodies, then collapsed on the barstool next to Faith.

She expelled a sharp puff of air. “Sorry I’m late.”

Older by two years, Faith had inherited their dad’s light hair and their mom’s ample curves, while Prue got her mom’s darker coloring but missed out on the curves.

Faith pushed a red daiquiri at her. “What is going on?”

“Someone broke into my car.” Prue reached for the daiquiri.

Faith gasped. “What? Are you okay?”

Sucking on her straw, Prue nodded.

“Do the police have any idea who did it?” Faith asked as she scooped a slice of cheese pizza onto a plate and slid it in front of Prue.

“Not yet, no.” Prue used the straw to stab at the icy concoction in her glass.

Faith’s large round eyes narrowed to slits. “But you do.”

“I do not.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

As a trained journalist, Faith sniffed a story in everything. For the longest time, Prue assumed her sister’s ability to ferret out all her secrets was due to the strength of their sibling bond. Now she knew otherwise.

“C’mon, spill it,” Faith urged.

Prue pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. At one time, she’d have jumped at the chance to talk to someone, anyone who would listen, about her latest research project, but those days were far behind her. Now she didn’t like to share. Not anything. Not with anyone.

Faith nudged Prue with her elbow. “I’m just going to keep asking.”

“All I have so far are suspicions,” Prue admitted.

“Suspicions are good.” Faith lifted her daiquiri off the bar and settled back in her chair. “Tell me more.”

But Prue hesitated. She sipped her drink while she sorted through what information she would disclose, and what she preferred to withhold from her sister.

“Do you remember that coup attempt in Montenegro last year?”

Faith sucked on her daiquiri straw. “Not at all.”

“Well, according to some news reports I read, the coup was led by one of the losing candidates in their national election, and he had help from a whole host of bad guys. Mobsters and drug dealers from all around the world kicked in the cash, and a group of American mercenaries provided the military support for the attempted overthrow.”

Faith’s gaze sharpened.

Prue shifted in her seat. “So anyway, I started tracking some of these bad guys, their business ties and dealings, and the same names kept popping up.”

“Okay.” A frown tugged at Faith’s features. “But what does this have to do with your car being broken into?”

“I’m getting to that. Do you remember Blackstone?”

Faith’s conspiratorial zeal turned to pity. “Oh, Prue.”

“What?”

“This is about Aron King?”

“No. Yes, but it’s but not like that.”

Doubt tainted Faith’s expression.

“It’s about what he’s done—what he’s doing,” Prue said. “Right now.”

“So this isn’t about what happened between you two?”

“Absolutely not.”

Faith appeared unconvinced. She leaned forward and captured Prue’s gaze with hers. “Look me in the eye and swear to me that you are not still hung up on that jerk.” She cringed. “You aren’t, are you?”

Bitter bile rose in Prue’s throat. Faith thought Aron had broken Prue’s heart, and in all honesty, he had. Just not in the way her sister believed.

“I most certainly am not still hung up on that jerk,” Prue said. “That was years ago, and it has nothing to do with any of this.”

“What is it you think he’s doing, exactly?”

Prue tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know, exactly. Not yet. But since he left Blackstone, he’s been running around the globe causing all kinds of trouble. Already he’s worked for at least one wannabe, two-bit dictator, and he’s about to marry into one of the most notorious mob families in Europe.”

Faith’s eyes grew huge. “He is? Wow, he’s a real social climber, isn’t he?”

“For sure. But what if there’s more to it than that?”

Skepticism clouded Faith’s features. “What more?”

“He’s started a new private military company, and he seems hell-bent on causing instability and corruption everywhere he goes. There’s big money in armed conflict. Lots of opportunity for power grabs. If Aron King is capable of love, it’s going to be for things like money and power.”

Faith’s gaze slid away. “I have to say, it all sounds remarkable. A little… unbelievable even.”

“Aron’s goons broke into my car.”

Faith’s head came up. “Seriously?”

“They’re trying to intimidate me so I stop investigating what they’re doing,” Prue said.

“Then you should stop.”

Prue gaped at her sister. “Are you kidding me? You’re a journalist. Would you stop reporting because your subject didn’t like you asking questions?”

“If I were being stalked and harassed? Yes, I probably would. No story is worth my life. Or yours.”

Prue wanted to argue but she suspected she’d never be able to convince her sister otherwise.

“Let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that you do uncover some plot for world domination or whatever,” Faith said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to expose him.”

“To who?”

“To everyone. To anyone who can stop him. It depends what I find, of course, but I’ll go to the police, or maybe the FBI.”

Faith tipped her head to one side. “Do you really think anyone is going to believe you?”

Prue reared back with the stab of pain Faith’s words caused.

“I don’t mean that like it sounds,” Faith rushed to add. “But when people find out what happened between you two, they’re going to think you’re just bitter or vengeful. That it’s all just a conspiracy theory you cooked up to get back at him.”

“Well, none of those things are true, so it doesn’t matter what those people think.”

“It does matter. Aron King is a powerful man. He knows powerful people. Mob-connected people, apparently. This isn’t science, just facts laid out in a logical sequence to be observed. Public opinion, legal interpretation, optics—it all matters.”

“All that stuff will work itself out. If it’s the truth—”

Faith was shaking her head. “You need to let this go.”

“Why?”

“C’mon, even you have to admit it sounds crazy. People are going to think—”

At Prue’s sharp intake of breath, Faith bit off her next words.

“What are people going to think?” Prue hated the tremor in her voice. “That I’m crazy?”

Faith’s silence hurt worse than any words could have and Prue’s throat constricted with the aching. “Is that what you think?”

“Of course not. I think he’s a bastard, and if I were you, I’d want revenge, too.”

“God, Faith, I don’t want revenge. I want the truth.”

Faith eyed her. “That’s all you want?”

“Yes,” Prue said, and then, considering, added, “All right, a little justice would be nice, too. Not revenge. Justice.”

“Justice, huh?” The corner of Faith’s mouth quirked. “How noble of you.”

Her appetite ruined, Prue nonetheless picked up her slice of cold pizza and bit off a mouthful.

“So, if you’re not still hung up on him, why haven’t you dated anyone since you two broke up?”

Prue frowned. “I’ve dated.”

Faith shot her a look. “More than three dates.”

“I haven’t met anyone.” At least no one she trusted. And after Aron’s betrayal, she wasn’t sure she’d ever trust anyone again. At least not a man she wasn’t related to.

She ripped off another bite of the pizza.

“Not one guy?” Faith demanded. “It’s been years. How many? Four? Five?”

Prue lifted one shoulder. “I’m picky.”

“Let me set you up with someone. I know this great guy….”

But Prue was no longer listening to her sister. Struck dumb by the sight of the man at the opposite end of the bar, she stared while prickles of awareness lifted the hairs on her arms. She blinked several times, trying to clear the webs of deception from her eyes.

The vision before her remained. It was really him.

Prue had first met Leo Nolan a lifetime ago. As an awkward fourteen-year-old girl, she’d spoken to the handsome eighteen-year-old briefly, on exactly three separate occasions. But for years afterward, she’d fancied herself in love him. That was back when she was young and naïve and prone to silly dreams about things like falling in love.

She was no longer that girl, and while he resembled the memory of the boy she’d held in her heart all those years, everything about him had changed.

“Hello? Earth to Prue. What are you looking at?” Faith craned her neck, then turned back with a wide grin. “Oooh. Do we know him, or are we just appreciating the hotness?”

“He was one of Owen’s friends.”

Faith peered across the bar. “He doesn’t look military. Did they go to high school together?”

“He’s military, all right. Marine.”

“Really? He looks kind of… scruffy.”

Rather than the buzz cut Prue remembered, Leo wore his dark hair longer, so that the curling ends brushed the tops of his ears and nape. The dark shadow on his jaw marked the hour well beyond five o’clock. His faded T-shirt had a tiny hole in the shoulder, and his board shorts hit well below his knee. And… were those flip-flops? Prue agreed, he looked less like a trained warrior and more like a California beach bum.

“You should go say hi,” Faith said.

Prue shook her head. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

Last she’d heard, he had retired from the military and gone to work with a private security company—

Her spine snapped straight.

He’d worked at Blackstone, hadn’t he?

Her mind scrambled to pin down the details, but her memories were too clouded. She bit down hard on her bottom lip.

Leo knew Aron King. Had they worked closely together? Were they friends? She discarded the notion at once. Aron King wouldn’t have bothered with such things as friendships. But at the very least, Leo knew of him. What kinds of things did he know? Certainly things she didn’t. Would he tell her those things if she asked? Could he be… persuaded to tell her?

But even as her mind calculated, her heart constricted to see his troubled expression, visible even with the distance between them. The urge to go to him overwhelmed. She wanted to pull him into her arms and brush her fingers through his thick hair. She longed to smooth the lines of worry from his forehead.

“You know what?” she heard herself say. “I think I will go say hi.”

“Really?” Faith’s smile blinded, and then she plucked her purse off the bar. “Okay, well, I’ve got a networking thing I’ve got to be at in, like, seven hours.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Call me if anything good happens.”

Prue rolled her eyes, mainly to distract from the heat warming her cheeks. “Stop it.”

“See you Sunday?” Faith slid off her barstool.

“Yep.”

“And Prue, think about this Aron King thing, okay?” Concern stamped her features. “I don’t like it.”

Prue’s heart dropped. “I’ll think about it.”

As Faith strode toward the exit, Prue fought off the morass of misery her sister’s reaction threatened to engulf her in. She chucked the straw from her drink and gulped down the last of the daiquiri.

With the tip of one finger, she wiped a sticky droplet from the corner of her mouth. Then she slipped off her barstool, squared her shoulders, and aimed directly for Leo.