Gold Mine Page 6

  Liam finally focuses on me, those green eyes intense with emotion, and I suppress a shiver in order to stand up for Elijah. “You wanted him to hold you down and speak to you with disrespect? You wanted him to call you a whore?”

  There’s no judgment in his voice, but there is a thread of disbelief. I can understand that. I’m having a hard time understanding my desires, too. Did it spring from the shadows of that French prison? Do I only like this because I was captured? Or was it already part of my being, only awakened when I met Elijah?

  The lemon orchard has no answers. “Yes,” I say.

  Liam’s voice turns soft. “Are you saying this because you’re afraid of him? I can protect you.”

  That decides me. If I had any doubt, it’s vanished, because I’m not afraid of Elijah. Confused, enchanted, turned on. He inspires a myriad of feelings in me, but not fear.

  “No,” I say, my cheeks flaming under the sun. Without the storm of desire surrounding me, what we did feels sordid. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Liam studies me. He studies his brother. What does he see? A man made of the same flesh and blood? Or a monster? Finally he gives a curt nod and walks off through the trees.

  I turn to Elijah, who’s staring at some place in the blue sky, his expression hard-set. “That was… that was crazy, right?” I say with an awkward little laugh.

  He doesn’t laugh or smile. He doesn’t even meet my eyes. “We should get back to the house.”

  “Elijah?”

  He stalks away, following his brother without answering me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Elijah

  A little market at the base of the mountain sells dimpled grapefruit and homemade pasta and hand-painted pottery. That’s where we leave Liam and Josh. My concession to doing this with Holly is that they’re nearby with an open radio connection.

  I drive up the narrow road, my eyes on the trees, wondering how many men Taggart has stationed. One of them pretends to change a tire in his beat-up truck. Another one watches from the porch of a small shack, rocking on a chair with a black cat in his lap. No doubt Taggart knows our precise progress up the mountain to his mansion.

  Holly sits in the passenger seat, silently shredding a napkin she found in the center console. The floorboard is covered in white confetti. I know she feels bad about what happened this afternoon. I should say something reassuring, but I don’t feel reassuring. I feel pissed off. I’m angry that Liam broke things up, that he assumed the worst, even while I’m wondering if it was right. Maybe I am becoming my father. Where is the fucking line? I should tell Holly that I care about her, that I’m sorry about earlier, but what I really want to do is tell her to finish the blowjob she started while we drive to this meeting.

  “We should talk about what happened,” she says finally.

  “Should we?”

  “Yes.” A firm answer that’s belied by her nervousness. When she runs out of napkin, she picks up the pieces on her lap and tears them into even smaller pieces. “We should.”

  “I don’t know what there is to say. My brother caught us fucking.”

  “And you thought you were taking advantage of me.”

  “Wasn’t I?”

  “No.”

  “Right,” I say, a hollow feeling in my chest. “Other girls want roses and dates at nice restaurants. You like to be fucked after I teach you to shoot a gun.”

  “Well,” she says, her tone reasonable. “I didn’t really learn how to shoot the gun. I don’t think you should count on being an instructor or anything. It’s not really your strong suit.”

  Humor licks at the dark cloud that’s been hanging over me, and I have to fight the quirk of my lips. How does this woman manage to make me laugh when I’m ready to pound a concrete block into dust? “What should my profession be, then?”

  “I mean you’re very good at this whole fighting soldier thing, but I guess… I guess you don’t do that anymore? Your work for the government? The whole undercover thing?”

  “I was honorably discharged.” In other words, they were forced to release me because I had way too much dirt on the higher-ups. In particular, the lieutenant colonel. It was either let me go peacefully or order a hit. Part of me still looks over my shoulder for an assassin.

  “So now you work for your brother?”

  The hollow feeling is back. “Sure. Unless he fires me.”

  “For having sex?”

  “For forcing you to have sex. For degrading you. For using you.”

  “You’re not giving me any control over the situation.”

  I know I’m being an asshole, but I can’t help the taunting tone. “I thought that’s what you like, isn’t it? Me taking the control from you? That turns you on.”

  She looks away, and I feel about two feet tall. What a bastard. Maybe I should knock her around for a few hours. Maybe then I’d really feel like my old man.

  “Look,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Liam may not have been right about what he saw in that orchard, but he was right about one thing. I’m not good for you.”

  “You’re wrong. You’ve already saved my life more than once. And now look, you’re coming with me on a dangerous meeting so I don’t have to go alone.”

  “Did it occur to you that I like the danger? That it’s my exit strategy?”

  “Your exit strategy? What do you mean?” And then my meaning sinks in, and her eyes widen. “Don’t say that, Elijah North. Don’t you dare say that.”

  I turn my focus back to the winding road, but it doesn’t matter. I can say it or not. The truth is I’ve always had a death wish. As long as I can remember, I’ve been waiting for the killing blow.

  Pink stucco rises from the cliffs, and I know we’ve reached our destination. Satellite maps already confirmed that Taggart’s compound is large and well fortified. We’re basically walking into a lion’s den. We only walk out if they let us.

  If it was only me, I wouldn’t give a shit. That death wish comes in handy.

  But it’s not only me. Holly is here, and I need her to be safe like I need to breathe.

  “Let me do the talking, okay?” I say as we pull up to a wrought iron gate.

  It’s a sign of how nervous she is that she doesn’t immediately argue.

  Men with semi-automatic weapons approach the car.

  We’re escorted into the mansion, up the marble steps and through a set of double doors of carved wood. The mosaic on the entrance features a large black dog and the words cave canem, a nod to the same flooring at Pompeii.

  Sure enough, the sound of barking greets us as we step into an open-air foyer.

  I’m not particularly worried about the dogs. I assume they’re like the men holding semiautomatic weapons—they only attack on their master’s orders.

  Two large black pit bulls round the corner, and Holly makes a sound of surprise.

  Concern strikes my chest, because if Holly acts afraid, if she runs from the dogs, they might chase. Because I’m a bastard who wants her to suck my cock, I’ve never asked her the things I should know. What’s your favorite color? Are you allergic to any food?

  Are you terrified of dogs?

  I move to stand in front of her, but she brushes past me and gets on her knees. One of the dogs pauses, clearly taken aback by this show of trust. The other one wags its tail and runs up for a belly rub. The more cautious one follows behind, its bark more hesitant.

  Okay, I guess she loves dogs. And she makes even snarling beasts into pets.

  Ian Taggart enters the room and snaps his fingers, and the dogs immediately jump up and run to him. It makes me think he let them in on purpose to scare us. That worked, because my heart is still pumping double time out of fear for Holly. I thought she might get her throat torn out right in front of me. Instead she made kissy sounds.

  She looks at the dogs with longing, clearly wanting to pet them more, but then she straightens. “Taggart. We have business to conclude.”

  He smiles. “I was wonderi
ng if you would insist on coming.”

  She pulls out a velvet pouch, and the two men with weapons start forward. Ian Taggart waves them back. He holds out his hand, and she places the diamonds in his hand. “It’s all there. More than she owes you. And in return you are to leave her alone.”

  “As I told you, I’m not the only one she owes.”

  “That will be my problem, not yours.”

  “And it’s hardly going to matter if she’s still addicted to blow. There’s always another dealer ready to give her a supply on credit.”

  “Again, that’s my problem.”

  “You have a lot of problems.” He smiles. “I could solve a few of them for you.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Because you have a problem solver of your own,” Taggart says, nodding towards me.

  “I’m not here to solve her problems,” I say. “She’s doing that by herself. I’m here to blow your brains out if you touch a hair on her head.”

  “You have a reputation,” he says, unmoved by my threats. “If you’re looking for work…”

  “I’m not.”

  He gives a reluctant nod. “Then I agree to your terms.”

  I take Holly by the hand in case she gets any cute ideas about petting the dogs again before we go. I really wouldn’t put it past her. “There’s just one more thing,” Taggart says, and I pause.

  “Yes?”

  “That Interpol agent. Who is he to you?”

  He was my mentor at the beginning. Now we’re enemies. Rivals.

  Because he became a traitor. Or was that me who betrayed him? Neither of us has pure intentions. Especially when it comes to Holly Frank.

  “He’s no one,” I say before leading Holly out of the lion’s den.

  “One more thing,” Taggart says, clearly amused. “You may have been worried about coming here, but you worried about the wrong thing. I like Holly. That’s why I didn’t bother turning her in for the bounty a certain lieutenant colonel has placed on her head.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  London

  “I should have been there.”

  Holly ignores me and continues chopping onions. Tears are dripping down her face, but she’s determined to help in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure Emina gave her this job on purpose.

  “I’m serious,” I say, awash in both fear and gratitude. “You should have told me you were meeting Ian Taggart. And you should have taken me with you.”

  “Does it matter?” she says. “Everything worked out.”

  “How would you have felt if Elijah went and didn’t tell you?”

  Guilt flashes through her dark eyes. “It’s not the same. You’re not well.”

  That’s what she says about me. You’re not well. It’s what she says instead of saying, you want to blow cocaine until you’re so far out of your mind you’d fuck anyone, do anything. That’s what she says instead of saying, you’re a fuckup.

  I grab an onion and start chopping. I have no idea how many onions we need, but if she’s going to help cook dinner, then so am I. I’ve always been like this, the follower, the copycat. People look at us and think it’s the other way around, but I’ve never understood why. She clearly has her shit together. She’s smart and calm and collected. I’m a mess.

  “I’m healthy,” I say, my voice flat. “I’m just hooked on coke.”

  “Addiction is a sickness.”

  The onions are getting to me, too. Tears trickle down my cheeks. “Is it? Because it doesn’t feel like a sickness. It feels like a weakness.”

  Actually, it feels like a person.

  He’s standing behind us, a shadow that only I can see. He alternately cajoles and threatens me, but in this battle of wills, he’s winning. If there were a line of cocaine in front of me, I would sniff it. It would be his hand on the back of my head, forcing me down.

  “You’re not weak,” Holly says, basically sobbing as she sniffles and cries. It’s probably not safe for her to be wielding a butcher knife. “You’re strong. So strong. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

  “If I were strong, you wouldn’t have needed to protect me from the meeting with Taggart.”

  “Ugh, there was no reason for you to see him again! Not after he took advantage of you.”

  I finish chopping the last half of an onion, and Emina sweeps in with a bowl to gather the chopped onions. Then a large platter of tomatoes appears in front of us. I have no idea whether this is some kind of therapy technique where we talk out our feelings using vegetables as a medium. Or if Emina is just using us to get her prep work done faster. Maybe both.

  Holly and I both reach for a tomato.

  “So, it’s over now. I’m safe. We’re both safe.”

  “Of course,” she says, chopping off the green top. “It was completely uneventful. He took the diamonds and promised to leave you alone.”

  Something about the way she says of course makes me think she’s lying. That she’s trying to protect me again. “You mean he promised not to loan me any more money.”

  “Tomato, tom-ah-to,” she says, shoving aside the chopped pieces and grabbing another tomato.

  Tomatoes are a lot harder to chop than onions, I discover. They don’t make me cry, but they’re so ripe and juicy that they melt under the knife instead of slicing into cubes. “It could have been dangerous. What if he decided to get violent?”

  “That’s why I took Elijah with me.”

  I snort. “As if he would have let you go alone.”

  “You want to talk about overprotective. He’s the overprotective one. I didn’t even need to shoot a gun. And for that matter, he didn’t actually give me one.”

  “A gun?” I set down the knife. “What are you talking about, a gun?”

  She looks guilty. “He may have taught me how to use one. Yesterday. After we came back from the beach. But if it makes you feel better, he’s a terrible teacher.”

  “That makes me feel worse, thanks.”

  “Look.” She pushes aside another pile of tomato cubes and faces me. Her voice drops to a near whisper. “That wasn’t the scary part. The scary part was when Elijah and I… we were… you know I mean… well, we got busy.”

  Despite my annoyance at my sister, I can’t help but laugh. “You got busy?”

  “Very busy.”

  “And that was… scary?”

  “The scary part was when Liam caught us. He got really pissed off.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I guess he thought Elijah was forcing me or something. The tension was off the charts.”

  A chill runs over my skin. “Liam told me something when we left the costume party.” I need to do something with my hands, so I grab a tomato and begin chopping. “He said the three brothers have a pact. They all agreed to it.”

  “What kind of pact?”

  “If any of them turn into their father, the other ones will put him down. Like a rabid dog.”

  “What?”

  “And I’m guessing forcing a woman would be like his father.”

  “So Liam was threatening to kill Elijah? His own brother?”

  “I guess he feels like he’d be doing the right thing. Like doing it for his own good. Apparently their father was a real piece of work.”

  “But Elijah wasn’t even defending himself. He didn’t even explain that I liked it or that he basically asked permission first, and it was all consensual.”

  I feel my eyes go wide. “Um, what exactly were you doing with Elijah that needed explanation? I thought you were talking about getting busy.”

  “Like I said, we were… very busy.”

  “Euphemisms don’t really work for this. Why did Liam think you might be forced?”

  “It’s possible that I was on the ground being held down by Elijah. It’s also possible that a certain part of him was in my mouth and he was calling me names.”

  “Oh my God.” My cheeks turn hot. “Holly!”

  She grabs a tomato and begins chopping. �
�I know.”

  That’s the kind of thing people would expect from me, but I’ve never been held down by a man like that. And I never would have guessed that Holly did things like that.

  Emina bustles between us, gathering the chopped tomatoes into a large bowl. She sets down a platter of zucchini for us to chop next. She says something in rapid Italian. And then in heavily accented English she explains, “Men are never satisfied. They want to hurt us and they don’t want to hurt us. They want to please us and they don’t want to please us.”

  She disappears as rapidly as she came, pulling something from the oven and humming off-key.

  Holly and I exchange glances. “Men,” I say.

  “Well,” she says. “I’m not sure about never satisfied, but Elijah was particularly not-satisfied because Liam interrupted before he could… you know.”

  My cheeks heat, but I can’t help but tease her. “Say it.”

  “No!”

  “So you can give a blowjob but you can’t say it.”

  “Stop!” She looks scandalized. “You don’t think there’s something wrong with me, do you?”

  “God, no. Sis. Don’t worry about it. As long as you were having a good time, that’s what matters. The brothers will have to sort out their shit between themselves.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Liam

  “Hit me again.”

  I throw a punch, one that Elijah could block if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. It slams into his jaw and sends him staggering back. When he rights himself blood drips from his lip. “Goddamn,” I say, throwing in a few extra curses. “If you want a fucking beating, find a dive bar.”

  Elijah wipes his face with his forearm. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

  A battered picnic table holds a few bottles of water and towels. They’re the only equipment we need for a solid workout. That, and each other. Josh and I are already covered in sweat from our sparring. Elijah joined us, but he’s busy fucking around.