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“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?
