Take Me Deeper Page 10

  Okay, fine. It was his conscience. It was the woman he’d loved and who’d died because of him. It was his vow never to let it happen again, to not be his father who didn’t care about anything or anyone but himself.

  Zane stared at his brother. “Fine,” he said without hesitation. “You help me now, and I’ll give you six months before I go back to Carolina.”

  Another silence fell, deeper this time.

  He was aware of Iris’s puzzled gaze on him, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. But he didn’t look at her. He kept his attention squarely on his oldest brother.

  “Six months, huh?” Quinn’s expression turned assessing. “You’ll work with us? Help pull this business out of the red?”

  “Yes.” Rush had been in prison longer than that and Charlie had lost her life. Six months doing what he’d sworn to himself he’d never, ever do was nothing. “I’ll help. That good enough for you?”

  But Quinn hadn’t finished. “You acknowledge that I’m the boss. You do what I tell you to from now on, understood?”

  Jesus. The arrogant son of a bitch.

  Zane gritted his teeth. “You’re the boss. I take orders from you. Happy now?”

  “You also have to pick up the dry cleaning.” Rush held up a hand and began counting off fingers. “Take coffee orders, wash the dishes, do the laundry—”

  “Shut up, Rush,” Quinn snapped. “Okay, you have a deal. We’ll help.”

  He didn’t want to acknowledge the rush of relief or the weird foreboding at what he’d promised Quinn, so he didn’t, focusing instead on Iris and the sudden ebbing tension in her posture. She’d been scared obviously, and with reason. They’d decided her fate between them right then and there, which couldn’t have been easy.

  Quinn, with his characteristic decisiveness, got up from the table, picking up his phone as he did so. “Rush, you might need to pay a visit to the sheriff, get him to talk to the folks in Dallas, see who’s on their most-wanted list. I’ve got some calls to make.” He glanced at Zane. “How long have we got before they track her down?”

  “A couple of days probably. They’ll have to figure out I took her, then they’ll have to find us.”

  “Well, we don’t want any of this shit going down here, which means you need to take her someplace else. In fact, maybe we want her out and about to draw them away.”

  Instantly the tension was back in Iris’s muscles, he could feel them shift under her skin. “You want me to be bait?” She wasn’t looking at him now, she was looking at Quinn.

  No way. Quinn may be the one running Lone Star, but if anyone was going to handle Iris, it was going to be Zane. And Iris wasn’t going to be anything, let alone bait for a bunch of dangerous cartel assholes.

  “Hell no,” he said, his voice flat with denial. “Iris is going somewhere safe.”

  Quinn frowned. “It would make more sense to have her out in the open, so we can pick the battlefield. You take her somewhere safe and they find her, you’ve lost the advantage, you know that.”

  Unfortunately, he did. From a military perspective Quinn’s logic couldn’t be faulted, but this wasn’t a mission and they were dealing with a civilian. A woman. A defenseless woman.

  Everything in him rebelled against it.

  God, if she got hurt because of him…

  Blood seeping through her pretty blue dress, onto his hands. The fear in her eyes as her gaze held his. “Don’t leave, Zane,” she’d whispered. “Don’t let me go.” And he hadn’t. But her life had drained anyway, no matter how tightly he’d tried to hold on.

  “No,” he repeated, the word hoarse. “Fuck no.”

  “Fuck yes,” Iris said unexpectedly and with total conviction.

  “Oh boy,” Rush muttered. “I’m gonna leave you with that one.” He levered himself off the bar and wandered out whistling something that sounded suspiciously like “I Shot the Sheriff,” which wasn’t encouraging.

  “You might not get a choice from the sound of it, Zane,” Quinn said, his attention on his phone as he made swiping motions across the screen. “Looks like Iris has got a better handle on this than you do.”

  “Quinn.” Zane didn’t look at his brother, holding Iris’s gaze instead. “I’d really appreciate it if you fucked off right about now.”

  Quinn lifted his phone to his ear, extending a middle finger in Zane’s direction as he did so. But then he followed Rush out the door, allowing Zane some privacy.

  As soon as he left, Iris jerked out of Zane’s grip. She looked pissed, which he couldn’t understand because who wanted to be bait for one of the most evil drug empires on the planet?

  “What do you mean yes?” he demanded. “Please don’t tell me you actually want to do this?”

  The expression on her delicate face had hardened. “Yes, I actually want to do this.”

  He desperately wanted to reach out and grab her again, hold her close, as if his touch alone was enough to keep her from making what could turn out to be an epically bad decision. But he didn’t, pushing his hands into his pockets instead. “You know what’ll happen if those guys catch you, don’t you?”

  Her jaw tightened. “Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”

  “And what would happen to your sister, Iris? What would happen to Jamie?”

  “But Jamie’s why I have to do this.” She took a step toward him, her gaze suddenly burning. “The reason she’s in foster care is because of what I did. Because of that one stupid choice I made. And all this time I’ve been looking for a way to get her back.”

  He stared at her, at the desperation she couldn’t quite hide. “You thought skipping bail would get her back?”

  “No, obviously not. But I couldn’t risk jail, not when there was a chance the cartel would get me there.” Her hands were in fists at her sides as if she wanted to punch someone. “All she has is me and if something happens to me, she’ll have no one. No one at all.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Which means you going somewhere safe—”

  “I want to do something, Zane,” she interrupted fiercely. “I have to do something. And if being bait will draw these bastards out, then I’ll do it. Don’t you see? If the charges are dropped, then I can get her back.”

  Ah, Christ. That expression on her face, that fierce note in her voice. It was so damn familiar. Because it reminded him of himself, of the need to fix things, make things better.

  The problem was, she didn’t know yet that some things couldn’t be fixed no matter how hard you tried. Some things you only made worse.

  “They’re ruthless, Iris. If they catch you and find out you had a sister, then you think they wouldn’t use her to get to you in some way?”

  The color slowly leached out of her skin. “What?” Her eyes looked black and huge in her pale face. “But they don’t know that. I made sure no one knows.”

  “They’ll know,” he said, because they would. Men like that made sure they knew everything since everything could be used as a lever. “Don’t be naïve.”

  She looked away from him, her expression unreadable. “Do you think she’s in danger now?”

  The question sounded calm enough, but he could hear the undercurrent of fear in her voice. It twisted something inside him. “No,” he said with as much conviction as he could. “Not unless they find you.”

  “But if they don’t find me, I’ll never get her back,” she murmured, staring off at something near the bar. “God, what a stupid bitch I’ve been.”

  He knew what taking responsibility meant. How heavy it could be. And he sensed this woman was already carrying a crushing-enough burden as it was, she didn’t need to add to it. So before he could stop himself, he was reaching out, taking that obstinate little chin in his fingers, and turning her to face him again. “You can’t think about that.” He kept his voice quiet, firm. “What’s done is done. The only thing that’s important now is to get out of this alive. For your sister’s sake.”

  She stared up at him, dark eyes full of secr
ets and shadows. “Why did you do it? Why did you say you’d stay here for six months? I know you don’t want to.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But there are other things that matter more than what I want.”

  “Such as me?” she asked. “You’re willing to do all of this for a woman you’ve only known less than twenty-four hours?”

  Unable to resist the urge, he brushed the curve of her lower lip with his thumb, her skin all warm and velvety. “Why shouldn’t I want to do that for you? Don’t you think you’re worth it?”

  Something shifted in her eyes, her throat moving as she swallowed, and he could feel again that subtle tension in her, making him firm his grip.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice held a husky edge to it. “Let me go.”

  Yeah, you really should.

  Yet he didn’t. Instead he gently pressed his thumb against her lower lip, testing the soft give of her mouth beneath his touch. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She scowled. “Look, if you’re going to kiss me, then kiss me. Just stop grabbing my face.”

  Snarky little thing. Yet clearly she wasn’t as cocky or as confident as she sounded because her cheekbones were stained red, as if she was embarrassed or shy. Kind of like the way she’d been yesterday when she’d thought he was going to take her up on her blow job offer. An offer she hadn’t had that many men take her up on no matter what she said.

  “Just how many blow jobs have you given to complete strangers?” he asked, suddenly wanting to know.

  Her eyes widened fractionally, then she jerked away from him, still scowling. “None of your damn business. Though certainly more than you.”

  It was clear he made her uncomfortable, which was interesting, not to mention satisfying since he had a feeling it wasn’t because she didn’t like him touching her. In fact, it was definitely the opposite.

  Which means nothing. Because you’re not going to touch her, are you?

  No. Of course he wasn’t.

  He laughed instead. “Well, that’s true.”

  For some reason, her blush deepened and she looked away from him. “I know you want me safe, Zane, and I appreciate it, don’t think I don’t. But I need to get my sister back, and if being bait means those bastards go to jail instead of me, then I’m going to do it.” She glanced at him again, meeting his gaze, unflinching this time. “And if you try to stop me, I’ll gut you like a fish.”

  God. She was nothing if not determined. And the really annoying thing was that he understood exactly where she was coming from. Except how could he stand it if anything happened to her? When he had the power to prevent it?

  This is not about you and your issues, asshole. If she wants to go get herself killed, you have to let her.

  He didn’t like it, not one bit.

  But then, as he had to remember, he wasn’t anyone’s hero these days, and he definitely didn’t want to be. He was done with trying to be a white knight. Done with trying to make a difference.

  He was done with caring.

  If something bad happened to Iris, he would regret it, but it wouldn’t smash his heart into little pieces, leaving only jagged shards in its place.

  Zane shoved his hands back in the pockets of his pants. “Well, okay then. Message received loud and clear.”

  She gave a sharp nod as if that was the answer she’d been expecting. “So what’s next?”

  “What’s next?” he echoed. “We put you somewhere the cartel will think twice about approaching while we work on a plan. Somewhere that’s not here.” He turned toward the door. “And I think I have just the place.”

  Chapter 7

  Iris sat down on the billowing softness of the super-king-sized bed and stared around the room in a kind of disbelieving amazement.

  When Zane said he had just the place, she hadn’t realized he’d meant the Four Seasons hotel in downtown Austin.

  She’d never been anywhere so luxurious and for a girl brought up in a run-down trailer park, it was a little overwhelming. Certainly it beat the pants off the motel she’d been staying in.

  Zane had booked her a room handling the reservation process, including the credit card deposit, then had gone off to do something with Quinn, telling her he’d be back later. She’d tried to protest, that surely there were other, way cheaper hotels she could be staying in, but Zane had apparently decided that the cartel wouldn’t dare mess with the security in a high-end hotel and risk bringing heat down on themselves, so staying here she was.

  “It’ll also look like we’re having a dirty weekend,” he’d told her as he’d swiped the card through the reader and pushed open the door. “Like I’m screwing you, which we might be able to use in our favor.”

  “Great,” she’d muttered, stepping into the suite he’d gotten for her. “All the fun of being threatened without any of the good bits.”

  He’d given her a repressive look at that, then scouted out the room, making sure she was settled in and issuing instructions about not opening the door to anyone, before taking off to wherever it was he was going. Quite frankly it was nice that he wasn’t around since it wasn’t only the hotel she was finding overwhelming but him too.

  Her lip was tingling from where he’d brushed it with his thumb earlier, and she could still feel the touch of his fingers gently holding her chin. There had been something about the way he’d held her, the firmness of his grip or the warmth of his fingertips, she didn’t know, but it made her ache. Made her want more.

  The problem was, she didn’t want to want more. She didn’t want to be attracted to him, she didn’t want to be curious about him, not in any way, shape, or form. Yet for some reason, her stupid body was all about the touch of his hand, the intense blue of his eyes, the impression of strength in his wide shoulders and muscular chest. The feeling of being small, of being fragile, of being helpless next to him.

  Those weren’t things she should be feeling. At all. Not when she’d had to be strong and tough and resourceful to simply survive.

  Yeah, she didn’t much like being the helpless female and having him be all macho and protective over her. Doing her laundry and feeding her pastries, booking her in high-class hotel suites.

  Iris stared around at the massive bedroom, then into the suite’s lounge area with the big flat-screen TV with on-demand cable. There was a door opening to a balcony that looked out over Lady Bird Lake and on the coffee table there was an ice bucket with a bottle of chilled champagne in it. Through the door on her left was a massive bathroom the size of the entire motel room she’d been staying in previously, with a tub she was longing to laze around in.

  Nope, she didn’t like it at all.

  She sighed and flopped back onto the bed, feeling the give of the mattress beneath her and the soft down of the comforter enfolding her.

  “Jesus,” she muttered at the ceiling. “I feel like Pretty Woman.”

  You’re the one who insisted on this.

  Well, sure, but she hadn’t expected this. All she’d been thinking was finally—finally—a solution to her problems had appeared, and there was no way in hell she was going to let it slip away.

  A way to get the cartel off her back, get her charges dropped, and get Jamie out of foster care.

  In fact, when Zane had initially suggested it, she’d stopped feeling like Goldilocks and had started feeling like Cinderella. With Zane as the fairy godmother.

  Except when he’d started being all macho and stupid about protecting her. Yes, she’d actually kind of liked his protectiveness, and, yes, a part of her wanted to do exactly what he said and find somewhere safe to hide, but a larger part had said a resounding no to that bullshit.

  Maybe they would have gotten the cartel without her being bait, but maybe they wouldn’t and she just couldn’t take the risk. Especially if they decided to go after Jamie in order to draw her out.

  A wash of shame went through her at the thought.

  God, she’d been so naïve. The one silver lining in all of this
had been that though the cartel might be after her, at least her sister was safe. But of course that wasn’t the case and she’d been a fool to even think it.

  Hard on the heels of the shame came the icy grip of fear and she sat up again, reaching into her back pocket for her phone and swiping through her contacts until she came to Linda’s number, Jamie’s caseworker. Then she hesitated, staring down at the name on the screen.

  She hadn’t reached out since one brief call the night she’d left Dallas, too afraid that any contact whatsoever might reveal where she was and the police would come and get her. She’d sent Jamie a couple of letters telling her what was going on and that she knew she’d done wrong, but she was going to fix everything. And that when she had, she was going to come back for her, take her away, find the home they’d always dreamed about together.

  Except she couldn’t call, could she? Linda had told her that if Iris called again, she’d have to tell the police. And maybe the police would then use the call to track her down. Because they could do that, couldn’t they? Track a person’s cellphone signal? Or a landline?

  Well, even if they couldn’t, it wasn’t worth the risk. Not when Zane’s plan hadn’t even gotten underway yet.

  Fear turned like a knife in her gut. What if the cartel had gotten to Jamie? What if they’d hurt her or taken her?

  Frustrated and angry with herself, Iris flung the phone aside and got up off the bed, needing to move, burn off some of the adrenaline pumping inside her. She walked into the lounge area, pacing back and forth in front of the windows that looked out over the lake.

  Oh God, if something had happened to her sister, they wouldn’t even be able to contact her because she’d taken off and no one knew where she was. And it wasn’t like she’d left her cell number with anyone. Jamie could be hurt or dead right now and she wouldn’t even know.

  Fear was a boulder on her chest, relentless fingers crushing her throat.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Coming to a stop in front of the windows, she tried to calm herself the hell down, but it didn’t work.

  This was her fault. All of it was her fault. She’d made a series of monumentally bad decisions and the end result could mean her sister being killed or put in danger. It could mean her own death too, though really, at this point, that seemed the lesser of the two evils.