Dirty Little Lies: A Men of Summer Novel Page 7

  She didn’t look particularly uncomfortable—more defensive, perhaps—but that was Grace whenever he was around. Yet she had Vinny and Cord ready to jump through hoops.

  Those green eyes of hers gleamed between heavy lashes a few shades darker than the multihued blond hair she’d pulled back from her face while the sides and back tumbled in rich waves to just past her shoulders. Loose beige pants and a soft white shirt completed her outfit, and once again she was wearing flat sandals rather than heels. A reminder of the attack that had that responding surge of fury threatening to break free.

  “Shut the hell up, Zack,” Cord muttered. “Let’s not piss her off any more than she already is.”

  Ire flashed in her gaze and tightened her lips, almost causing him to smile. She hadn’t liked being pushed out of the conversation he, Vinny, and Cord were having. She’d waited longer than he expected her to before protesting, though.

  “Go easy on her, Zack,” Vinny ordered. “Give her a chance to acclimate.”

  Rather than commenting, Zack joined Cord in lifting her suitcases and carrying them out into the late-summer sunlight to the back of his pickup.

  There was no way in hell she’d make it if he went easy on her. Vinny and Cord seemed hesitant to allow her any part in her own protection or to make her an integral part of the investigation. Hell, they’d argued to keep as much information from her as possible.

  She was stronger than they seemed to be giving her credit for. He’d always known that. Perhaps not strong enough for his way of life, but stronger than she appeared. That Maddox strength was more than apparent despite the impression she gave of always bowing to Vinny’s temper.

  She wasn’t bowing today; she was glaring at all of them as she made her way from the house to the truck, surrounded by several of the Kin, who shadowed her the second she left the house.

  And she knew why they were there. To protect her with their own lives if necessary. And she hated it. Zack could see the fear and anger when her gaze met his, that knowledge that the four men walking beside her would lay down their lives for her. Just as her pet had nearly done.

  She slid into the front seat of the truck without argument, her body stiff, filled with angry tension as Zack moved behind the wheel.

  “Keep her safe, Zack,” Cord demanded, his voice low before Zack could close the door. “You let her get hurt, and you’ll answer to all of us.”

  Zack slammed the door closed, ignoring the other man’s warning.

  If Grace ended up hurt, then Cord wouldn’t have to retaliate—Zack wouldn’t be able to live with the thought that he’d failed to that extent. For years, he’d cooperated with Vinny and Cord to place an invisible web of protection around Grace, and still, she’d ended up in danger.

  As she’d grown older, he hadn’t agreed with the ways in which they’d protected her, but he’d lost the right to object. He’d stayed out of her life, ignored the fact that she was just as fascinated by him as he was hungry for her. A man didn’t have a right to intervene when he had no intention of keeping the prize being protected. His life was far too dangerous for a princess to exist within it for long.

  “Do you intend on telling me what the hell is going on now?” It was more a demand than a question. There was nothing pouty or spoiled in her determination for explanations; the tone of voice was more that of a woman used to knowing the facts and learning she’d been lied to.

  “Yes, I do, Grace,” he answered, wondering how she would handle that truth. “I want to get you to the house, get you settled in, and get a few things taken care of first, then we’ll talk.”

  He was surprised she wasn’t terrified. He’d glimpsed some fear, but it wasn’t ever-present. She was too quiet, too thoughtful to suit him. The expressions he glimpsed on her face at rare times, as though she were figuring out a puzzle of some sort, sent a tingle of warning flaring in his gut.

  Zack kept having to remind himself that she was a Maddox. She’d been raised by Vinny and Cord for the most part, and they were as calculating as any man Zack had ever known. Until now, he hadn’t considered the fact that Grace could have learned some of that careful cunning and the ability to see multiple layers of individuals and events and tie them together. It may be time to revise what he knew of her, to figure out what lurked behind the quiet warmth she’d always displayed.

  “And I’m just supposed to wait,” she sighed after a moment, frustration edging her voice. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Yeah, sweet Grace was used to being in the know, a part of that inner circle Vinny shared the secrets of his world with. Was she so close to the Brighams? he wondered. She was friends with Victoria, the reigning princess of the family, so anything was possible. She hadn’t been close enough to the family to learn his secrets, though.

  “Because you know our world doesn’t deal well with suppositions and guesses,” he reminded her. “I’m still waiting on a few contacts and some of the answers you’re going to need. Give me time to get that information together, then I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “Everything?” Suspicion lay heavy in her voice.

  “Everything, Grace.” And God help both of them if she wasn’t strong enough to handle it.

  Glancing at her again, he clenched his teeth rather than say anything more. She was used to getting even the guesses and suppositions as they came in. Hell, she probably gathered those together for Vince herself.

  It was definitely time to unravel the puzzle that Grace evidently was, and quickly.

  *

  If Grace had ever had occasion to visit Zack’s home, then she would have known the second she stepped inside that he wasn’t the man he showed to the world.

  It was impossible to see the house from the main road, hidden as it was behind Leyland cypress and other heavily branched pines. Summer or winter, the house was completely hidden until the driver passed the natural boundary and entered the large clearing. On the outside, the multilevel brick home looked unassuming enough at the far end of the wide grassy clearing. The two levels were built against the natural incline of the hill rising behind it, but other than that, it had appeared very traditional.

  Bland, a bit plain with no landscaping or areas of color, but still, it had the appearance of solidity and seemed sturdy enough to withstand generations of use.

  The inside of his home gave away his secrets, though. The outside might have been traditional and bland, but the inside was another story. Rather than encountering hardwood floors and complementing wood-paneled walls along with bulky masculine furniture, as she was used to, Grace entered a foyer with warmed stone floors brightly lit by strategically placed skylights above. The foyer led into an open-plan lower floor. The large, carpeted living area flowed into more stone floors for the dining room and kitchen.

  From the outside, the house seemed to be built right into the hill behind it, when actually there was a large horseshoe-shaped yard with the two sides abutting the house itself.

  The furniture, though made for the comfort of a man of Zack’s build, still gave the rooms a light, airy feel. A lack of true boundaries lent the room a sense of freedom and of deceptive softness. There was actually nothing soft about any of it.

  Stone floors, marble counters, stainless steel appliances in the kitchen, and a marble-topped dining table supported by what appeared to be stone columns.

  The total absence of wood was a design choice she was going to have to ask him about soon. It was more than obvious he’d deliberately avoided any heavy wooden furniture.

  The large sectional couch and recliner faced a big-screen television enclosed in a glass entertainment center. The sectional was a creamy beige material, the matching recliners in darker hues.

  The stairs leading to the second level built above the garage were covered in the same light carpeting as the living room. The bedroom Zack deposited her luggage into was spacious, with glass night stands placed next to a king platform bed. Here was the only allowance for wood, in the dresser and chest of drawers positioned on the wall leading into a bathroom.

  Windows looked out over the far side of the property, over the treeline and onto the river that drifted lazily past. She would never have expected such a view, just as she hadn’t expected him to have the nerve to take her directly to the master bedroom.

  “You think I’m going to just hop right into bed with you?” Turning on him as he placed the last of her luggage in the room, Grace frowned in irritation. “And this is your bedroom.” She waved her hand to encompass the room. “Giving your bed up for me? No other guest rooms in the house?” She knew better. There was another bedroom. She’d seen the open door as they moved upstairs.

  “You’re looking for a fight,” he stated, the lack of confrontation or even defensiveness in his voice angering her.

  “I’m looking for the man I thought you were,” she threw back at him. “The Zack I knew wouldn’t take such a thing for granted.”

  “We’re both aware you never knew me, Grace,” he pointed out as he walked to a set of wide double doors. “Here’s the closet—one side is empty, make use of it. You also have the right side of both the dresser and chest.” He nodded to the two pieces of furniture.

  The inside of the closet was huge. She doubted she’d use a quarter of the space he’d allotted her, but that wasn’t the point.

  “Take me to the guest room, Zack,” she demanded. “I’m not sleeping with you. As you’ve just acknowledged, I don’t know you. I don’t sleep with men I don’t know.”

  “You do when your very survival requires the impression that we’re lovers.” The dark, brooding tone that entered his voice sent a chill racing up her spine. And it wasn’t one of fear. “Whether or not we have sex is your call. Sleeping together is mine.”

>   That was his call?

  “I can pretend to be your lover without sleeping with you,” she assured him, fighting to keep her teeth from clenching in frustration.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell she could sleep with him and not beg him to touch her. It wasn’t possible. She didn’t have kind of willpower. No woman had that kind of willpower.

  “Argue over a decision that’s changeable, sweetheart,” he warned her. “Now, unpack—I have some calls to make. My office is next to the guest bedroom, by the way, so don’t even attempt to move in there. You won’t like the consequences.” With that, he turned and walked out the door without giving her a chance to argue.

  Arrogant ass. He did not have the right to make that call, and he damned sure didn’t have the right to be so autocratic about it.

  Sleeping with him could not be an option.

  “I won’t like the consequences? Like hell—” She rushed to follow him, and Zack caught her just outside the door, and before Grace knew it, he had her back against the wall, her breasts against his chest, all without putting the slightest pressure on her leg.

  Suddenly, the memory of him in her bedroom, his lips on hers, his fingers between her thighs, bringing a rush of pure pleasure, overwhelmed her. Her breath caught, lips parting, her anger suddenly overcome by so much need that she couldn’t make sense of it as his lips lowered to her ear.

  She felt surrounded by him. The warmth of his body, harder, stronger, dominant, rushed through her, sapping her determination to remain aloof, to keep her heart protected.

  “This is how it is,” he whispered against her ear, one hand gripping her hip, the other cupping the opposite side of her neck. “I didn’t make that decision lightly. A cleaning lady comes in here daily, and no doubt, she’s bribable if anyone wants to find out if we’re sleeping together. Now, feel what you do to me?”

  The hard length of his erection pressed into her lower stomach, stealing her breath as heat raced through her.

  “I remember the other night real clear, sweetheart. Clear enough that I want nothing more than to sink inside that slick, wet heat I found between your thighs. And that’s something you don’t want right now, not before you know exactly how your life’s getting ready to be played with.” He nipped her ear, a sensual little bite that had her gasping. “But I can accommodate you if you don’t want to wait. I’d happily do so—and if you keep pushing me, I damned sure will. But when the truth hits you, you can’t say you weren’t warned.”

  Graced stared over his shoulder, blinking at the wall on the other side of the hall, and tried to tell herself it didn’t hurt. “Let me go.” The strangled words were torn from her, the demand far weaker than she liked. “Get away from me.”

  Pushing against his shoulders, she was surprised at how quickly he moved back. Not bothering to so much as glance at him, she turned and hurried back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She leaned her back against it, stared at the bed, at the wide windows that looked out on the river, then at those that looked out on the front of the house.

  She couldn’t do this.

  Oh God, she couldn’t do this.

  Pressing her hands to her stomach to breathe through the pain burrowing through her, she tried to tell herself she was strong enough, determined enough to make it work. After all, this wasn’t about her or Zack; it was about finding a killer, a traitor who would destroy all their lives if possible.

  But her pep talk didn’t help. It may be about finding a traitor, but it was her life being torn apart, her heart that was going to be ripped from her chest, and she knew it.

  She could feel it coming.

  Her uncle and her cousins had taught her how to be strong, how to stare down even them and how to hold her own against determined, forceful men. But those men weren’t Zack. She didn’t get weak for them, she didn’t lose her breath at their touch, and she didn’t lie awake at night wondering what it would be like to touch them, to have them touch her.

  It wasn’t her uncle, her cousins, or her half brothers who were going to walk away from this with a shattered heart and broken dreams.

  Dreams she should never have allowed herself to begin with.

  Shaking her head, she stared at her luggage mutinously. She might have to sleep in that damned bed with him, but that didn’t mean she would do it without a fight. And it sure as hell didn’t mean she had to unpack the first bag or make it easy for Zack. She didn’t have to make any of this easy for him, and it was more than clear he had no intentions of making it easy for her.

  *

  Damn, his self-control was supposed to be stronger than this.

  And what the hell was he doing, waiting on her outside that bedroom, setting her up to follow him, to give him a chance to touch her again? That was a teenager’s trick, not a grown man’s.

  The reason he’d given her for sleeping in the same bed was the truth. His maid was friendly and far too nosy. She’d be easy to question if anyone asked her whether they were sleeping together or if they slept in separate rooms. And Alexander Brigham would find a way to question the woman. Learning Zack hadn’t taken her as his lover would once again make Grace fair game as far as the interrogation Alexander had in mind.

  The problem was, he doubted Grace would survive the interrogation. He’d seen too many suspected traitors go through the intense questioning combined with hallucinogenic truth-inducing drugs. It was during one of those sessions that Luce had given Grace’s name and swore her daughter had the digital files Benjamin had hidden and that Grace had revealed her cousin Kenni’s identity.

  Grace had known Kenni was hiding under the Annie Mayes identity for two years. She could have somehow given Luce reason to suspect, but no way in hell did Grace give her cousin up.

  The drugs used didn’t guarantee the truth. They uncovered whatever the one being questioned believed. Luce could easily have sworn Grace had “revealed” Kenni’s identity when the truth was, Luce had made a hell of a guess based on something she’d learned from Grace. How she’d lied about the digital files was what Zack had to find out. That one, he couldn’t explain away. And with Luce’s death, there was no way to requestion her.

  And he’d be damned if he allowed Grace to be subjected to the pain-filled, horrifying episodes she’d suffer with the drugged interrogations. The thought of it turned his guts to ice. She would survive it, she’d probably vindicate herself during one of them, but she wouldn’t come out of it without being changed. Whatever trust, whatever faith she had in her world would be shattered forever.

  Stalking into the office, Zack stepped around the large glass-and-metal desk before dropping into the heavy ergonomic chair behind it and glaring at the door.

  He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected her to fight him at all. After the attack and the news that the agency was beginning the process to pull her in for interrogation as a suspected traitor, he’d been certain she’d cooperate with whatever measures were needed to ensure her safety.

  The fact that she was fighting him this early in the game left him a little off balance. That wasn’t the Grace he knew. Or had he ever really known her?

  The vibration of his cell phone drew his attention. Grimacing, he answered just before voice mail would have picked it up.

  “What do you want?” he answered curtly.

  “Now, that’s a fine way to greet a cousin,” Madden Brigham drawled with a hint of dark amusement. “I thought I’d call and see how you were doing, considering you have the old man frothing at the mouth and the two men he sent after the delectable little Grace cooling their heels in Memphis, awaiting his go-ahead to bring her in. I thought I should check and make certain you hadn’t really lost your senses. What kind of game are you playing, cousin?”

  “One that will get you killed if you don’t keep your damned nose out of it.” Not that Madden would follow the advice. He was too damned stubborn to do anything so sensible.

  Madden chuckled at the suggestion. “You know me better than that, Zack. Besides I’m probably the only one with enough common sense to realize you’re not using your head where this girl is considered. Your dick is a piss-poor guide, take my advice on that one.”

  “Your dick is a piss-poor guide,” Zack reminded him ruthlessly. “Mine doesn’t have near the poor judgment yours does, so keep your advice to yourself.”