Parker’s Price (11 page)

“No, it’s not,” countered Brenda. “I know you help out with the mortgage payments.”

“Small enough price to pay since I was too selfish to move to Jersey with the both of you, and I do well enough with my investments.”

“You’re not selfish, Parker. Do you think I don’t know you always stay in New York on your vacations because you’d rather use the money to help us out?”

“You know I don’t believe there’s such a thing as good debt, despite what the banks will tell you. The sooner the mortgages on my apartment and this house are paid off, the better I’ll sleep. Besides, I travel enough for work.”

“When you travel for work, you always get something for me or Mom or Savannah, but never anything for yourself.”

“I have less than six-hundred square feet of living space. I have to think about my purchases very carefully. Besides, I get tons of swag from all the shows I attend for the magazine.”

“Most of which ends up in my closet.”

“I keep one or two items I really like.”

Brenda leaned in closer, looped her arms around her sister’s waist and squeezed. “You’re not a saint, sis, but you’re not nearly as selfish as you think you are.”

“You’re my sister; you have to say that.” Parker sighed. “How did this conversation become about me?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of
Oprah.
”

“Ah.”

The silence became comfortable.

“How are you feeling?” Parker asked after a while.

“Better.” Brenda blew out a breath. “I’m glad you know. It’s like a weight’s been lifted.”

“You know what they say: Confession is good for the soul.” Parker rose to her feet, tugging Brenda with her. “I know something else that’ll make you feel even better. Let’s go and properly introduce you to Dean.”

Two spots of color appeared on Brenda’s cheeks. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Brenda rubbed her hands over her cheeks and her fingers under her eyes to remove any mascara stains. “How do I look?”

Parker reached up and smoothed back her sister’s stylishly trimmed hair. “Better than I do after I cry.”

“You never cry.”

“That’s because I look frightening enough afterward to scare little children,” mumbled Parker. She turned to go inside. Brenda didn’t. Parker’s eyebrow inched up.

“I’m going to have to tell Mom, aren’t I?”

“I’d rather she not try to brain Dean when I bring him over while she’s at home because she thinks he seduced and abandoned her baby daughter.”

A faint smile lifted Brenda’s lips. “You’re serious about him,” she murmured, a faint note of awe in her voice. “You never brought any of the others here. Heck, you’re even wearing his clothes!”

It took effort for Parker not to fidget. “Don’t read too much into it,” she said dismissively. “There haven’t been that many before Dean and the sweater is because my wardrobe is severely limited right now. Which reminds me, I’m going to need to raid your closet for some loaners.” Recalling the other reason why she was here, Parker frowned. “You and Mom need to be careful for the next little while.”

“Why?” Brenda’s hand clamped on Parker’s upper arm just above her elbow. “Wait. Is this about what you asked me yesterday?”

“Yes,” replied Parker, and she gave her sister a carefully edited version of the events of the last week.

After the initial shock wore off, Brenda jumped to the same conclusion as Dean.

“Why isn’t that worm Tyler behind bars?”

“Because the law says evidence implicating him is required before he can be taken into custody and charged. Right now, all they can do is question him.”

Brenda pursed her lips. “Still.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s him.”

“Who else could it be?”

“I honestly don’t know,” replied Parker, letting her gaze wander. She saw Dean in the hallway just beyond the kitchen doorway, talking on his cell phone and looking grim. He caught her watching him and crooked his finger at her. “Let’s go inside.”

Dean ended his call and approached them as they stepped through the back door. “That was Detective Wade. Moore has an alibi for the night before last.”

Parker lifted a brow. “For the entire night?”

Dean nodded curtly. “Apparently, his new girlfriend was more than happy to provide the detectives with explicit details.”

“Oh.” A picture of the platinum blonde model flitted through her mind’s eye.
“Oh.”

“Of course, he could’ve hired someone to vandalize your place.”

She let her skepticism show on her face.

“Okay, I will concede there’s a chance it wasn’t Moore. However, that makes things more complicated.”

Parker stiffened. So the matter wouldn’t be resolved as soon as he thought it’d be. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the police and cleaning crew are done with my place. That should be in about two days.”

Dean scowled at her. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“You’re staying with him?” asked Brenda, looking from one to the other with a fascinated expression on her face, like they were exotic animals at the zoo.

“Only until my place is set to rights,” said Parker.

“Until whoever wants to harm you is behind bars,” Dean corrected. “We already discussed this.”

“That was when you were convinced the perp was Tyler. It’s not.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

Frustration sharpened Parker’s tone. “Yes, it does. At this point, I don’t think the NYPD can do much unless the perp attempts something else. If he doesn’t, he’ll probably never be caught.”

“Like I said,” Dean began calmly, his eyes steady on hers, “that doesn’t change anything.”

Parker went still, afraid to move because a cliff visible only to her had just opened up at her feet. Even worse, every cell in her body was urging her to take that single step forward and go into a free fall. A free fall that could only end with her broken, she reminded herself harshly.

Brenda came to her rescue. “Parker, didn’t you say you need to borrow some clothes?”

Parker dragged her eyes away from Dean’s and stared blankly at her sister. Brenda looped her arm through Parker’s and started drawing her across the kitchen and toward the stairs.

“We’ll be a few minutes,” Brenda tossed over her shoulder at Dean. “Please make yourself at home.”

Parker let her sister lead her up the stairs and through the second door on the left. Brenda nudged her into the center of the bedroom, which was decked out in pastel fabrics, Mission-style furnishings and discreetly printed wallpaper.

“Do you know what you’re doing with him?”

A scowl marred Parker’s brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on your face downstairs,” Brenda said bluntly.

Parker’s expression eased. “I think the man enjoys throwing me off balance.”

“He throws you off balance?”

Feeling a little off balance at this particular moment because of what she’d just admitted, Parker went to the bed and sat down. “Bren, don’t look at me like that. Not too long ago, we established that I’m basically human.”

“It’s reassuring to hear you admit that.” An impish smile curled one side of her mouth. “So, does that mean you’re going to need to borrow something from my black lace collection?”

A pillow flew at her face, muffling her burst of laughter.

“Why did my sister look all flushed and guilty when I came downstairs?”

“She apologized.”

Parker tipped her head back to look at him, dark brow arched. “Really?”

“She tried to—started to—but I told her it was over and done with.”

“Thank you for going easy on her.”

Dean glanced down at the woman beside him. “I didn’t do it for her.”

“I know,” said Parker, and she braced a hand on his shoulder, stretched up and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.

Dean turned his head, caught her lips and deepened the kiss. When he pulled back, his breathing was as uneven as hers.

Parker settled back against the leather backseat of the Maybach and kept her eyes lowered as her chest rose and fell with her breaths. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, reddened from his teeth, and Dean nearly groaned and wished he’d thought to have a tinted glass partition installed in the sedan. It would be a little cramped back here, but he didn’t think she’d mind once he had her naked and spread open for his hands and mouth.

He heard Parker’s voice. She was asking him a question, but the words escaped him. Dean blinked and gave his head a little shake.

“Did Detective Wade tell you anything else?” she repeated.

“Yes. The forensic team stopped by your place. I’ll let Katie know she can give the cleaners and contractors the green light.”

“Did they find anything?”

“Wade didn’t say. I don’t think they can make any statements until the technicians get what they collected back to the lab.”

She nodded. “You’re probably right.” She rested her head against the leather, eyes closed. “I need to go see my mom tomorrow.”

“We could’ve stayed and waited for her.”

“No, Brenda needs the alone time with our mom for her confession. Had we stayed, I would’ve introduced you to my mom and she would’ve lit into you for what she believes to be your transgressions against my sister.”

“So, it was for my safety that we left, and not because you want to delay telling her about your problems.”

She made a face. “Brenda knows to report any suspicious activities around the house and to keep Savannah inside for the next little while.”

“I’ve already taken care of that.”

Her lashes lifted and she turned to him, looking perplexed. “You’re going to keep Savannah indoors?”

“No. I hired security to watch the house.”

“Security?”

“Bodyguards,” he clarified, watching her reaction carefully. “There’ll be two men watching the house twenty-four/seven until this is resolved.”

She sat up and blinked slowly. “When did you do this?”

“I had Gordon set it up last night.”

“Thank you.” She paused, looked like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

He breathed a little easier. “You’re not going to tell me what I did was high-handed? You’re going to be reasonable?”

“You’re keeping the most important people in my life safe,” she said simply, “so no. I’m so grateful that I’m not even going to take exception with you questioning my common sense.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell my sister?”

“If someone other than the people I hired is watching the house, I don’t want your family to tip him off.”

“I’m more interested in scaring whoever it is off.”

Dean’s mouth hardened. “I’m more interested in payback.”

The twin lines formed between her eyebrows. “You worry me when you make those kinds of statements.”

Wordlessly, he gathered her to him and pressed his lips to her brow until it smoothed out. Parker resisted for a bit, then, with a sigh, she gave in and nestled against his side.

“What now?” she asked.

“You’re going back home to get some rest.”

“Your home.”

A twinge of annoyance shot through him. “Right.”

“Wait. You’re not coming up with me?”

“No, I have to run a quick errand. It won’t take long.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over the shadow she couldn’t completely disguise under one eye. “You take a nap and I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.”

She turned into his touch, letting his palm cradle the soft curve of her cheek. “What kind of errand?”

“I have to pay someone a visit.”

With a sigh, she drew back. “You’re going to see Tyler, aren’t you?”

He let her see his displeasure and answered, “No.”

Dean knocked on the wide door of the loft. Earlier, he hadn’t lied to Parker. He’d planned on seeing
and
talking to Moore. And it would be a quick errand. Tracking Moore down had been a simple matter of calling the man Dean had hired to maintain surveillance on Moore. Moore, he’d been told, was alone and unwinding at the home of the woman who’d been so eager to be his alibi.

There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, then chains being pulled back and deadbolts being unlocked. The door opened and Moore appeared in the doorway and stared at Dean quizzically for a moment. Dean saw recognition dawn in Moore’s widening eyes, followed by a smirk that made his hands ball into fists. Knowing Parker would notice bruised knuckles, Dean forcibly kept his hands at his sides.

“You don’t look like a happy man. Things not work out with Parker?”

“I’d choose my words carefully if I were you,” Dean said quietly.

Moore ignored the warning, and blithely continued. “Here for pointers? Of course, I didn’t have to fork over forty K to get Parker to sleep with m—”

Dean didn’t think. He couldn’t think with the red haze that clouded his brain. One moment he was dispassionately studying Moore to judge the best way to go about what he needed to make happen; the next, he was standing over Moore as the other man lay sprawled on the floor of the front foyer, both hands cupped over his nose and the lower half of his face. Blood slowly seeped from between Moore’s fingers as he stared at Dean with a mixture of shock, fury and hatred.

“What the hell!”
Moore shouted, the words muffled behind his hands.
“Are you crazy?!”

“No, just pissed off,” Dean said, and got down on his haunches. His eyes drilled into Moore’s. The other man quieted immediately, his skin sickly grey beneath the fake tan. “Let’s talk.”

Five minutes later, Dean straightened up and walked away, leaving Moore still lying on the floor, silent but fuming. Halfway down the stairs of the four-storey walk-up, he stepped to the side to let a tall, dark-haired, skinny girl cradling a large, brown paper bag pass him, wondering if he’d pissed off Moore enough for the man to target him instead of Parker.

Stiff and uncomfortable despite the luxurious leather chair on which she was perched, Parker eyed the fifteen-year-old girl who returned her silent regard, distrust and hostility in every taut line of her young body.

Cat-like green eyes narrowed on Parker. “Uncle Dean usually dates beautiful women,” said the girl, her voice deceptively light. “European and South American supermodels. Tall, tanned, curvy.”

Taking the implied insult in stride, Parker said, “I’m sure I’m just an anomaly. He’ll come to his senses eventually.”

Parker thought she heard a dissatisfied
humph
, but couldn’t be certain.

“When did Uncle Dean say he was coming home?”

Parker was wondering that herself. “He didn’t say,” she replied for the fourth time. “He just said he had an errand to run.”

“And he left you here alone.”

Rolling her eyes would bring her down to the teenager’s maturity level, so she stopped herself from doing it.

“Obviously,” she began, forcing the words through her teeth, “since I
am
here alone. And since you checked every room and closet in this mausoleum, you know I’m not hiding his unconscious body under a bed.”

Charlotte “Candy” Maxwell’s expression remained stubbornly hostile, as if she wouldn’t put it past Parker to have pushed Dean over the balcony railing to avoid the hassle of searching for a hiding place. This sullen teenager who stared at her was a far cry from the hyperactive teeny bopper Dean had described. She, however, was dressed the part in a mini-dress that matched her eyes and set off her blond-streaked, honey-colored hair and three-inch heels that allowed her to tower over Parker when she stood. Maybe the girl had gone for too long without sweets. Parker was on the verge of offering to raid the kitchen for sugar cubes when she heard the incredibly beautiful sound of the front door opening.

She jumped to her feet and saw Dean’s niece do the same. The young girl glared at her one last time, sniffed, then swept past Parker and from the living room. Parker followed her, stopping when she reached the hall that flowed into a foyer that was almost as big as her entire living room. Dean’s eyes met hers and Parker only had time to shrug.

“Uncle Dean!” his niece cried out, and promptly threw herself at him.

Dean’s arms reflexively went around his niece and he squeezed her once before lowering her to her feet.

“Candy, what are you doing here? How did you know I was back?”

Candy lowered her gaze, then artfully looked up at her uncle through her long, darkened lashes. “I called Gordon yesterday. He said you’d be home today.” She grabbed his wrist with both hands. “You need to talk to Mom for me.”

“I told you I would next week.”

“But you’re back now.”

“Next week, Candy,” he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. “Speaking of your mom, does she know where you are?”

A simple side table suddenly drew Candy’s undivided attention. “No,” she mumbled.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and held it out to her. “Are you going to call her or should I?”

She dropped hold of his wrist and her shoulders fell, but she took the cell phone from him and started dialing.

Dean glanced at Parker, who only gave another shrug and said, “I’m tired. I’m going to take a nap while you two discuss whatever needs discussing.”

Dean quickly closed the distance between them and blocked her way before she could disappear. He cupped her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice pitched so his words reached her ears only.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” replied Parker, her eyes straying back to Candy for a moment. She paused, then grasped his hand and held it in front of her, her eyes darkening as she bent over the red, swollen and skinned knuckles. “What happened to your hand?”

“I had a disagreement with someone.”

Her head lifted and she caught his eyes, narrowed hers. “I don’t even need to ask who, do I?”

“Did I mention that your brain is as sexy as the rest of you?”

She pursed her lips. Keeping hold of his hand, she turned on her heel. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, letting her pull him along.

“The kitchen. You need ice on those knuckles to reduce some of the swelling.” Under her breath, she added, “And a slap upside the head to knock some sense into you.”

“I heard that,” he murmured, sounding too damned pleased.

“Good.”

Not willing to be left out, Candy followed them, cell phone still firmly attached to her ear. The kitchen was a stainless steel affair, from counter to backsplash to appliances. It looked industrial, like something that belonged inside a five-star restaurant. Parker went to the double sinks, pulled the lever and ran Dean’s knuckles under warm water, using her fingers to gently dislodge some of the crusted blood.

Surprisingly, Candy made herself useful and retrieved a reusable cold compress from the freezer.

“Thanks,” Parker said as she plucked the reluctantly proffered gel pack from the girl’s hand. She tore two sheets off a fat roll of paper towels above the sink, wrapped them around the compress and slapped it none-too-gently over Dean’s knuckles.

“Hey!”

“You deserve a lot worse for lying to me. This isn’t the Dark Ages, Dean Maxwell. I don’t need you running around town punching people out for me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Candy perk up. Parker bit down on her tongue and took a deep breath before she said anything else she shouldn’t be saying. She made a beeline for the doorway and said, “I need to find a first-aid kit.”

“I’ll get it, Miss Quinn,” Gordon said from the doorway.

Parker’s mouth worked. She wanted to protest, but she’d been so distracted that she hadn’t even heard him enter the apartment. If she went looking for the first-aid kit in her current frame of mind, Dean’s minor injuries would be healed before she returned.

“Uh, all right. Thanks, Gordon.”

Parker turned around slowly, not quite sure what to do. Dean was leaning back against the counter, legs stretched out and one ankle crossed over the other. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Had they been alone, she would’ve gone to him. She closed her eyes. Maybe kissed his hurts all better.

Her eyes opened, saw that his had darkened, and she barely managed to suppress that needy, achy sound just in her throat.

“Uncle Dean,” Candy said loudly, very effectively breaking the false sense of privacy, “Mom wants to talk to you,” and thrust the cell phone in his face.

He blinked at it, then took the electronic device from his niece.

“Vanessa,” he said into the mouthpiece as he straightened his frame. “Yes. Don’t worry. It’s not a problem.” A pause as he listened. “Yes, Candy can spend the night here.”

Parker tried not to wince as the girl shot her a triumphant look. From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement, then Gordon was entering the room, carrying a white plastic kit sporting a red cross on the side. As he set the kit on the island counter and flipped open the latches, Parker sidled up next to him.

“Gordon, please tell Dean I’m going to call it a really early night,” she said quietly, head down to avoid Dean’s scrutiny.

“What about dinner? You’re not hungry?”

“Not particularly.”

Gordon faced her with a disapproving frown. “He’s not going to like that.”

“I know he’s obsessed with feeding me, but skipping one meal’s not going to hurt.”

“Not just that,” said Gordon dryly.

Parker sighed. “I know,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re acting cowardly.”

“Cluck, cluck,” she said, and made her exit.

The wisps of her dreams shook and blended together, then dissipated entirely when large, male hands roughened with calluses spread open over her middle and pulled her back into a hot, hairy body that was intriguingly supple in some places and hard with muscles in others.

“Dean?” she mumbled drowsily, her voice a little hoarse.

The hand on her middle moved in small circles. “Who else would it be?” he said, his mouth close enough to her ear for her to feel his warm breath caress her skin.

She made a low sound in her throat and wriggled a little, earning a groan from him. He hardened, pulsing against her buttocks, and she came a little more awake.

“Had I known you sleep in the nude earlier, I wouldn’t have let you have your own room on the island.”

“Perv.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep your hands to yourself,” he murmured, and nipped her earlobe.

She only made another small sound, this time drawing out the low note.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in my bed? It took me three tries to find you.”

She frowned, trying to rise above the haze of desire to think coherently. “Candy,” she said finally.

“What does she have to do with you not waiting for me in my bed?”

“She’s jealous. She doesn’t like her favorite uncle shacking up with a woman.”

The circling motion of his hand stopped. “What?”

“Your niece adores you and doesn’t want to share, especially not with someone she doesn’t think is good enough for you. You’re her knight in shining armor.”

“Where are you getting this?”

“You don’t need to be Freud to figure it out, but I guess you may be too close to her to see it. She’s very protective of you.”

“What did she say to you while I wasn’t here?” demanded Dean.

“That’s not important.”

“The hell it’s not,” he protested vehemently. “I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow. I won’t have her insulting you.”

“There’s no need for that,” she said through a yawn. “You charging to my defense is only going to make her more resentful of me.”

His hand slid to her hip and squeezed. He didn’t like her answer.

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, finding his hand and covering it with hers. “I deal with prima donnas all the time. Fifteen-year-old girls have nothing on models and fashion photographers. Besides, I’ve never had a younger woman envious of me before.”

“Right.” His palm glided to the curve of her waist. “So, am I
your
knight in shining armor?”

She snorted. “I don’t have on your niece’s blinders. I can see your armor’s tarnished,” she remarked, and yelped when he promptly pinched her in retaliation. She drove her elbow back, then tried not to wince when she encountered a lot of hard muscle. The man was in better physical shape than some of the male models with whom she’d dealt. Dean merely chuckled and she slapped at the back of his hand. “Go back to your own bed.”

“I need more room,” he said, and proceeded to use his greater weight and muscle to push her closer to the center of the bed.

“You can have all the room you want in your own bed,” she retorted even as she allowed him to scoot her over, rolling over onto her back.

“But you already have this one warm,” he said, and his arm settled heavily across her naked body, forestalling her attempt to roll away from him. Not that she would’ve stayed away for long since the sheets were cold enough against her slumber-warmed skin to make her shift onto her side and curl into the fetal position. Dean drew her toward him. “Come here.”

With a breathy sound, she started to turn to face him.

“No,” he said, “like this,” and, keeping her back nestled to his front, his hand arrowed down to the apex of her legs and slipped between her folds.

Parker inhaled sharply and reached back for any part of him, digging her fingertips into muscled flesh.

His lips brushed her ear as his fingers found and rolled her clitoris. “Were you dreaming of me?”

“No,” she lied, and bit back a moan when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. She held her breath as he went still behind her, quiet except for the sound of his breathing, and anticipation coiled hotly in her quivering belly. The bed shifted, sheets rustled and panic threatened. A protest sprang onto her tongue, her lips parted, then she heard the crinkle of foil and air rushed from her lungs. She thought she heard him chuckle but couldn’t care.

Dean captured both her wrists and yanked her arms over her head. Holding her wrists captive with one hand, he used the other to push her hair away from the back of her neck, exposing it, making her feel incredibly vulnerable.

The first touch of his lips to the sensitive skin of her neck sent molten desire through her body, making it feel heavy and lethargic and tingly all at once. Parker’s low moan filled the room. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tilted her head forward to allow him easier access and opened his mouth, treating her to the wet rasp of his tongue.

Nerve endings ignited and she struggled against his hold, fighting to free her wrists. Dean’s response was to squeeze until she winced. It wasn’t painful, just a reminder he was in control.

He lifted his lips away from her skin. “Were you dreaming of me?” he asked again, hoarse and a little ragged.

Yes,
she thought, but the little, red-skinned imp inside her hadn’t had enough and made her shake her head. The hand in her hair fisted and his mouth went to the base of her neck, exploring the bumps of her spine and making her writhe in his hold. She arched her pelvis, but he ignored the plea. As his mouth traveled from vertebrae to vertebrae, he cupped a breast and massaged it. She felt a tiny measure of relief and arched her back, thrusting her breast harder into his palm and her buttocks closer to his groin.

He groaned her name. Needing more, she tried to twist around. Dean clamped a hand down on her hip, stopping her mid-motion, and gave a warning squeeze.

“Like this,” he muttered harshly, and smoothed his hand down the length of her thigh and grasped her knee. He lifted it, arranging her limb until it was draped over his, opening her for him. He took his penis in his hand and teased her, parting her damp nether curls with the head. Parker felt the burning heat of him through the thin latex. Her sex clenched and she made a broken sound. Frustration at new levels, she started to reach for him. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard enough to leave marks. “Not yet. Not until you tell me what I want to hear.”

She clawed at the sheets, grasped them, twisted them. He let her feel the tip of him against her throbbing clitoris, barely more than a graze. She quivered uncontrollably.