Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (36 page)

“Darling!” Darla shot into his embrace without a moment’s hesitation, the scent of lilac water hitting him hard. Her body molded to his in that intimate way that had once roused his senses, quickened his pulse, satin-clad arms encircling his waist. Lifting on tiptoe, she brushed her mouth against his. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much—where on earth have you been? I’ve been a bundle of nerves since you called.”

Jaw stiff, Nick carefully pried her arms from his waist and prodded her into the marble foyer with a none-too-gentle push. “Let’s take this inside, shall we, Miss Montesino?”

She whirled around as Nick closed the door, a vision in lace and lavender satin, her honeyed hair glinting from the crystal chandelier overhead. Hurt furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand—why are
you
angry? I’m the one you deserted for over a year.”

“Don’t play innocent, Darla.” His tone was gruff as he scanned past the dimly lit library up the curved staircase to the darkened landing above, the house conspicuously empty. He took in the warm glow of the parlour where a fire crackled in the hearth, then seared her with a hard look. “You know exactly why I left, but what you don’t know is why I came back.”

“To marry me, I hope,” she said with a strained smile. Preceding him into the parlour, she rubbed her arms as if she were cold
.

To marry
you? No, Miss Montesino, to bury you—and Aiden Maloney.

Ignoring her comment, he slipped off his overcoat and tossed it on a chair as he entered the room where he’d once indulged in chess with her father and cribbage with her mother. A tic flickered in his cheek.
And
courted their debutante daughter. He straightened the sleeves of his jacket, the weight of the derringer as heavy as his heart over the pain he would cause her parents, two people he’d respected and admired. Jaw stiff, he made his way to the candlestick telephone atop the cherrywood desk. He picked the receiver up and held it out. “Call Aiden Maloney.”

“B-but . . . I don’t understand.”

“
Now
, Darla.” The harsh tenor of his tone caused a lump to duck in her throat as she slowly made her way to where he stood, phone in hand.

Fingers trembling, she took the receiver and attempted to dial,
fumbling the numbers several times before she got it right. Tears welled in her eyes while they waited for someone to answer, her gaze pleading with his. “He made me do it, darling, I swear—”

“I know.” He steeled his resolve when tears trailed her cheeks.

She jolted at the sound of a voice on the line, her own fractured and frail. “Yes, M-miss Darla Montesino c-calling for Mr. Maloney, please.”

A shiver traveled her body as she lifted her gaze. “I loved you, I swear,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His lips clamped in a flat line. “Just not as much as an old family friend.”

“Darla?” Maloney’s voice came through loud and clear. “Everything go as planned?”

“Not exactly, Uncle Aiden,” she said with a crack in her voice. “He wants t-to t-talk to you.”

Nick snatched the phone, voice curt. “Hello, Aiden, missing any gorillas from your zoo?”

“As a matter of fact, I am—maybe you can tell me where they are?”

“Six feet under, Maloney, right where you’re going to be when I’m through with you.”

A malevolent laugh iced Nick’s skin. “I think you have it backwards,
Mr
.
Barone
—you’re the one in grave danger, pardon the pun, who will pay dearly.”

“I’ve already ‘paid dearly,’ you bucket of slime. First with the fire at my parents’ store and then with my uncle—another ‘favorite employee’ if I’m not mistaken.”

“Ah, yes, my trusty lawyer, who turned my deepest secrets over to you. Not a smart thing to do, now was it?”

“Not when it earned him a bullet in the head, compliments of Aiden Maloney.”

The laughter on the other end of the line turned Nick’s stom
ach. “Indeed it did, and I would have gladly pulled the trigger myself had I not henchmen for that very mundane task.” His sinister tone became amused. “But at least it was my money that put him in the ground.”

“And my parents?” Nick’s teeth clenched so tight, he could have ground them to dust. “Who did your dirty work there, Maloney?”

Evil incarnate crackled over the line. “Ah, yes, now
that
was my handiwork, I’m happy to say—a pipe bomb hand-delivered to educate your father that nobody defies Aiden Maloney.”

Blood gorged Nick’s face. “I’ll see you strung up for this, you worthless sack of dung.”

“Not before you, I’m afraid. If I’m not mistaken, two of my ‘gorillas,’ as you so rudely call them, should be waiting for you now.”

Nick whirled around, sleet slithering through his veins at the sight of two of Maloney’s henchmen at the door.

“Good night, Nick—or perhaps I should say . . . goodbye?”

The receiver clicked before it went dead, paralyzing Nick to the spot. His blood froze at the cock of a gun. One of Maloney’s thugs sauntered over while the other fixed him with a slit-eyed stare behind the barrel of a Luger pistol. “Hands up, mister, nice and slow.”

Nick did as he said, gut clenched when the one hoodlum frisked him and lifted his Smith & Wesson, cracking it against his head so hard, Darla screamed. Nick’s vision blurred while the lowlife tucked the gun into the belt of his trousers. “Not real smart, mister,” he said with a wicked laugh. The goon resumed frisking Nick, bypassing his wrists with a quick slide along the outside of his arms to pat down his legs. “He’s clean, Roy.”

Darla stood by the fire, arms tucked to her waist and face bleached white. “Uncle Aiden p-promised you wouldn’t k-kill him,” she whispered. “Just make sure he wouldn’t talk.”

Blinking to clear his vision, Nick kneaded his jaw, now sticky with blood.

Roy grinned. “Yes, ma’am—we’ll make good and sure, won’t we, Neil?” He pulled a length of rope from inside his jacket and tossed it to his partner. “Truss ’em up tight—don’t want him giving us any trouble afore we teach him a lesson, eh?”

Neil snatched the rope and turned, and in one violent thud of his heart, Nick unleashed a frontal kick to the man’s groin that doubled him over. Body-slamming him to the carpet, he jerked his gun from Neil’s trousers and rolled to fire at Roy, winging his shoulder. A blood-curdling howl echoed in the foyer along with the clatter of Roy’s gun as it skittered across the marble floor. Nick flinched at movement out of the corner of his eye, and pain seared him when Neil’s foot bludgeoned his arm. Nick’s gun careened against the wall with a loud crack. Deflecting a second kick, he yanked Neil’s shoe, slamming him hard on his back. He jerked the derringer from the sleeve of his coat and aimed it at Neil’s head. “Say your prayers, lowlife,” he muttered, rising to his feet.

Click.

His heart seized at the cock of Roy’s gun. A blast of fire scorched through him, and his derringer dropped to the floor when he slumped to his knees, a metallic smell filling his nostrils. His groan gurgled as he collapsed in a pool of blood.
Allison, forgive me, please . . .

And the last image he saw was her face, before everything faded to black.

28

I
t had been a long, long time since Logan had felt this way—like a boy in college again, heart racing over the prospect of seeing his best girl. A grin spanned his face as he eased his Mercedes Phaeton up to the curb in front of Cait’s house.
My
girl
—Caitlyn McClare! Turning the engine off, he hopped out of the car whistling a tune and bounded up the steps two at a time. Sweet heavens, how he’d missed her in the week he’d been gone. He grunted as he rang the bell, his smile compressing a degree. Week? Try his whole sorry life. But . . . that was about to change, and the very thought curled his lips once again.

“Top of the evening to you, Hadley,” he said when the butler opened the door, striding into the foyer like he lived there himself. The very notion caused him to grin all over again, a perpetual state, apparently, since Cait had agreed they could court. Handing his former butler his fedora, he shuffled out of his overcoat and draped it over Hadley’s arm, cuffing the man’s shoulder with affection. “Rosie treating you all right these days, I hope?”

A faint smile shadowed Hadley’s mouth as he carefully hung Logan’s coat and hat on the brass coatrack. “Most assuredly, sir. You might say the woman has had a change of heart.”

“So . . . ,” Logan asked with a broad grin, “she actually has one?”

A twinkle lit Hadley’s eyes, barren of the umpteen eyeglasses Cait had purchased for the man. “It appears to be a well-kept secret, sir.”

Logan laughed, palming a hand to his hair. “Well, she’s certainly kept it from me.” He squinted in the foyer, brow furrowing when he didn’t see Cait. “Mrs. McClare home, I hope?”

“Yes, sir. She’s resting at the moment, but she asked me to let her know when you arrived and to inquire if you’ve eaten?”

Resting?
Logan glanced at his watch, a wrinkle wedging his nose.
At
eight o’clock in the evening?
“Yes, Hadley, I had a bite at the hotel, thank you.” He cocked his head. “There’s nothing wrong as far as you know, is there? Mrs. McClare’s not ill or anything?”

“Oh no, sir, not at all.” With a nominal glance up the stairs, Hadley leaned forward a hair, the barest of smiles lining his weathered lips. “Although Miss Cait did mention she’d been having trouble sleeping this week, a comment coinciding with your absence, I believe, sir.”

The grin returned full force. “Has she now?” he said, gaze flicking to the landing, where the ring of cue balls and laughter indicated Blake, Jamie, and Bram were battling as usual. He slapped Hadley on the shoulder again. “Thanks, Hadley—that’s news I rather enjoy hearing.”

“Yes, sir,” the butler said with a secret smile. “I thought that might be a welcome report. Can I get you anything, Mr. Logan—coffee, tea?”

“No thank you, Hadley, just the lady of the house, if you will.”

“Right away, sir,” he said with short bow, shoulders erect as he ascended the stairs.

Entering the parlour, Logan rubbed his hands. His smile expanded at the sight of Cassie and Alli playing chess while Maddie drew at the cribbage table with the new Crayola crayons Logan
had bought for her birthday. “So, who’s winning?” he asked the two older girls, pretty sure it wasn’t Alli, given the scowl on her face.

“Uncle Logan!” Maddie launched off her chair, squealing with delight when he swooped her up in the air and whirled her around. “We missed you!” she shouted, squeezing his neck.

“Did you, now?” He gobble-kissed her neck. “And how about your mother—did she miss me too?”

“I think so,” Maddie said with a giggle. Her little nose scrunched as if she smelled something bad. “Although she’s been crabby this week.”

Logan laughed. “Good to know—I’ll watch my step.”

“Madelyn McClare!” Cassie jumped up to give Logan a hug. “Aunt Cait doesn’t have a crabby bone in her body.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “She just wasn’t herself, that’s all, a little quieter than usual. But I suspect that’ll change now that you’re home, Uncle Logan.”

Home.
“One can only hope,” he said with a chuck of Cassie’s chin. He reached inside his jacket to produce a box of Cracker Jack that he tossed in the air, giving Maddie a wink. “Look what I found in L.A., young lady, but you’ll have to share them with your cousin and sister.”

“Gee whiz, Uncle Logan, that’s swell!” Maddie tore into the treat. “I’ll save some for Mama too, ’cause she ate half the box last time. Maybe then she won’t be so crabby.”

“Welcome back, Uncle Logan.” Alli rose to give him a hug, her tone almost melancholy.

His breath hitched at the lack of sparkle in her eyes, prompting him to tease her gloom away. “Speaking of crabby—you aren’t letting this Texas cowgirl whip you at chess again, are you? Where’s your competitive streak?”

Alli sighed, looking up through doleful eyes that pierced Logan’s heart. “I’m afraid it left when you did.”

His eyes softened as he gently kneaded her shoulder. “You’ll get it back, Al, I promise.”

“I sure hope so,” Cassie said with a smirk, obviously attempting to lift her cousin’s spirits as well. “It’s like playing pool with Jamie—no challenge at all.”

Logan grinned. “You need to show that boy some mercy sometimes, Cass, and throw him a bone. You know, just so he feels like a man.”

“Sorry, no ground given before the vows are exchanged, Uncle Logan—the boy’s hard enough to handle now, this close to the wedding.” Cassie plopped back into her seat, eyeing the board with a slant of her lips. “Can’t imagine how cocky he’d be if I let him beat me at pool.”

“Come on, Cass, have a heart,” Logan said with a tweak of her neck. “Throw him a game of pinochle at least. I hate to see a grown man weep.”

“Awk, read ’em and weep, read ’em and weep . . .”

“Logan McClare—are you discussing poker with my children again?”

He spun around so fast, Maddie giggled. “Cait!” Heat blasted his cheeks as a boyish grin stole across his lips. “No, ma’am—God’s truth.”

At his comment, the tease faded from her eyes, and his heart stuttered. Her gaze shifted to her daughter. “Maddie darling, it’s almost bedtime, but I think Rosie has milk and cookies in the kitchen before you head up.”

“Whoopee!” Cracker Jack in hand, Maddie darted out as soon as Logan set her down.

He grinned at Cait. “Don’t suppose I can compete with that,”
he said on his way to the door, face softening as he gave her a tender look. His voice faded to a whisper for her ears alone. “Except hopefully with you . . .”

His breath stalled when she avoided his eyes, quickly turning toward the foyer. “Do you mind if we speak privately in the study?” she said quietly, face angled in profile.

“No, not at all.” He followed her into the study, pulse jumping when she stepped aside to close the door and lean against it. He turned. “Cait . . . is everything all right?”

She appeared stiff, palms to the wood as if she needed its strength to hold her up. Her eyes focused on the paisley carpet at her feet. “No, Logan, it’s not.”

“What’s wrong?” He took a hard stride toward her before her head shot up, the warning in her eyes fusing him to the spot.

“Not another step,” she whispered, warding him off with a shaky palm. “Please.”

His blood chilled. “Cait—tell me what’s wrong. Why are you acting like this?”

He saw her chin tremble as tears welled, and he took another step forward.

“If you come any closer, Logan, I will ask you to leave.”

He swallowed, heart pounding like a jackhammer. “Cait, I . . . I don’t understand. Before I left, you kissed me—you led me to believe you love me as much as I love you and you said we could court. Was that all a lie?”

She shook her head, voice hoarse while rivulets of water trickled her cheeks. “No.”

“Then why are you acting like this?” He leaned in, voice gruff and pulse erratic.

Her fingers trembled as she grappled to retrieve a handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse. “Because I’ve had a change
of heart,” she said quietly, avoiding his gaze while she dabbed at the moisture that glistened her face. “About courting.”

She may as well have slapped him—the effect was no less startling. “You can’t be serious,” he whispered. “I love you, Cait, with every breath in me, and I want to marry you more than I want anything in this world, and you’re saying no? You’re denying the love between us?”

A muscle shifted in her throat as she stared at the carpet. “I’m not denying the love, Logan . . .” Her voice broke before her watery gaze rose to meet his. “I’m denying the marriage.”

He stared, heart racing at a hazardous rate. “For the sake of all that’s holy—
why
?”

Her chin lifted as she blinked several times, voice frail. “Because I don’t trust you.”

A harsh word hissed from his lips before he could stop it, and he spun around, fingers taut as they gouged at the back of his neck. Head bowed, he forced himself to calm down with a kneading press at the bridge of his nose, chest pumping with ragged breaths. Reining his temper in, he turned to face her again, facial muscles stiff with a semblance of composure. “All right, Cait.” He exhaled a heavy blast of air and bowed his head, hip slacked and hands moored loosely on his thighs. “I have kept the bonds of friendship for well over a year now since my awful blunder in Napa, and as God is my witness, I have not touched another woman since that night. I attend church with you and your family every single week, and my faith in God has been tried and tested until—like you—it’s become a critical part of my life. I love your children like my own—they have my blood in their veins—and I all but worship their mother.” He expelled another heavy breath, a nerve flickering in his temple while he seared her with a heated
gaze. “So tell me please, Cait, if you will—what more can I possibly do to convince you that you can trust me?”

“Oh, Logan,” she whispered, her body almost listing against the door as she clutched folded arms to her waist. “You could have told me the truth.” More moisture spilled from her eyes as a trembling hand quivered to her mouth. “You could have told me Jamie was your son.”

Paralysis claimed every muscle in his body as he stared, all blood siphoning from his face. “What?” His eyelids sank closed with the weight of his guilt, voice barely audible as he lowered his head, hand to his eyes. “Who told you?”

“Andrew—after I told him you and I were planning to court.”

Fury snapped his head up.
So help me, I’ll kill him . . .

“He recognized Jamie’s mother when he came to your office one day,” she continued in a nasal drone, “claims you treated him abominably—”

“For decency’s sake, Cait, the man is slime.” He paced to the hearth, dread crawling within while his hope incinerated before his eyes, as dark and cold as the ashes beneath the flue.

“He’s a brilliant attorney, Logan.” The hint of defense in her tone infuriated him further. “He put two and two together.”

He slammed a fist on the mantel, rattling the Venetian vase he’d given her for Christmas. “Blast it, Cait, he’s nothing more than a toadying snoop, desperate to steal you away.”

“No, Logan, he simply
cares
about me,” she said with a firmer tone than before, as if defying another derogatory word. “Not unlike you with Alli and Nick Barone, I suppose.”

Stomach sick, he shielded his eyes with a splayed hand, massaging his temples with forefinger and thumb. “Cait,” he whispered, his voice a hoarse croak before his sorrowful gaze rose to meet
hers. “I swear—I was going to tell you soon. Before Cassie and Jamie’s wedding.”

More tears sluiced down her cheek, sinking into the crevice of the shaky fingers at her mouth. “And how am I supposed to believe that? You lied about your ‘minor indiscretion’ years ago, an ‘innocent flirtation’ you called it, leading me to believe the most sacred of intimacies never took place.” Her body shuddered as her head bowed in a near-silent sob, hand twitching when it slid to cover her eyes. “And then to harbor that same sin in silence all these years, denying your own flesh and blood for the sake of a lie—”

A painful heat scalded his neck. “No—I did
not
deny Jamie, I swear! I sent a monthly stipend until his mother married, even though I never believed he was mine.”