Take Me Deeper Page 9

  Okay, so maybe guys in suits weren’t that bad.

  Iris swallowed, trying to pull herself together enough to give him an answer that wasn’t “actually, I’m thinking of escaping. See ya.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Running out on me, huh?”

  “Well…no. I was just…uh…going to check out the main street and…stuff.”

  Zane cursed, moving toward her, and she battled the sudden, insane desire to turn and run through the doors before he could catch her. But she couldn’t seem to make her legs move, and then his fingers were sliding around her upper arm, gripping her, and her skin prickled with heat, a wave of it spreading over her entire body.

  She looked up at him, shocked by her own reaction, his gaze clashing with hers. She was achingly conscious of his fingers resting against her bare skin, his grip firm enough that she couldn’t pull away and yet not tight enough to cause pain.

  She’d never felt this before, not this trembling, half-excited, half-scared sensation that sat in the pit of her stomach. Intellectually she knew what it was—she wasn’t an idiot—but she’d never actually experienced it herself, not even with Dylan.

  Sexual attraction. Hot. Raw. Overwhelming.

  “Liar.” His voice was soft and there was a caressing quality to it, so unlike the ice that normally coated every word. It made her shiver. “You were getting out of here, weren’t you?”

  Pull yourself together, Callahan. You’re not going to let some dude get to you just because he’s hot, right?

  No. Damn. Way.

  Iris jerked her arm out of his grip. “So what if I was?” Annoyingly, she could still feel the imprint of his fingers, the heat lingering on her skin as if she’d been scorched.

  He didn’t reach for her again, but the look in his eyes burned, gas-flame blue. “If you were, I’d say it was pretty ungrateful considering I did your laundry and brought you breakfast.”

  She could feel her face heat. “You didn’t have to do any of those things.”

  “Yet you’re wearing clean clothes and you have that coffee in your hands.”

  “I—”

  “The word you’re looking for is ‘thanks.’ ”

  Her flush deepened. Great, now she looked like an asshole. But then that was the problem when people did stuff for her. It happened so rarely even when her mom had still been around that she didn’t know how to handle it. And after Dylan, everyone’s motivations seemed suspect.

  Swallowing her immediate reaction, which was to tell him not to be such a patronizing ass, she mumbled, “Thanks.”

  He at least had the grace not to look satisfied, his expression remaining sharp and focused on her. “Tell me why you were leaving.”

  She sighed and lifted a shoulder. “I wasn’t really. At least, not until I heard you guys arguing. I just don’t want to be the reason for that.”

  The expression in Zane’s eyes was disturbingly perceptive, making her want to look away. “Are you sure it’s not just because you’re a coward?”

  Anger flared inside her, thick and hot. How dare he? He didn’t know her, he didn’t know what she’d been through, how damn difficult the last year had been. A coward would have rolled over and drowned her sorrows the way other people in the trailer park did—with cheap drugs and even cheaper booze. But she hadn’t, no way. She’d chosen to keep fighting, to make up for the mistake of trusting Dylan, and do whatever it took to get her sister back.

  “Oh, right,” she said sarcastically. “Leaving here and risking being found by the cartel is cowardly.”

  He scowled. “I told you I’d protect you.”

  “And I don’t know you from a bar of soap. So give me one good reason why I should trust anything you say.”

  A look of frustration crossed his lean features. “I would have thought I’d given you many reasons to trust me.”

  “What? Coffee and laundry?”

  “I’m a soldier, Iris. Protecting people is what I do.” His tone was flat with certainty, with conviction. There was no doubt he meant what he said.

  But still, she didn’t want to put her trust in anyone again. First her mother had up and left, then Dylan had tricked her into the situation she was in now. No, the lessons she’d learned had been too hard and far, far too painful.

  “That might be true, but I—”

  She didn’t get to finish. Obviously losing patience, Zane reached out and gripped her arm once more, this time tight enough that there was no way she could pull free. “Like I said,” he muttered tersely, “you’re not going anywhere.” Then he turned and moved toward the open doorway, pulling her with him.

  Furious, Iris tried to dig her heels in, only to be dragged over the carpet like a recalcitrant dog at the end of a leash. “Let go of me, you bastard,” she muttered, trying to pull away.

  Zane ignored her, and before she could get another protest out, she was pulled into the long, dim room that had obviously once been the hotel bar.

  Along one wall ran the bar itself, the shelves behind it stacked with empty bottles. The rest of the space was taken up with various arrangements of chairs and tables, with some booth seats along the opposite wall.

  Quinn sat at one of the tables, the surface covered with paper, while another man sat on the bar with his arms folded. They both looked up as Zane and Iris entered, Quinn’s scowl becoming more ferocious while the man at the bar only grinned. He could only be Zane and Quinn’s brother, given the height and breadth of him, plus there was a certain similarity to his features. His eyes were the kind of color that Iris thought almost couldn’t be real, an intense turquoise blue, his dark hair threaded with tones of caramel and gold. His mouth was long and wide, his smile slow and lazy, making his scarred-boxer’s features seem almost friendly. But she didn’t make the mistake of thinking he was. She’d seen men like him, the easy smile and the twinkle in their eyes masking the dangerous animal beneath. And this guy was all danger, she could smell it.

  Hell, she could smell the danger on all of them.

  “Hey little lady,” the man at the bar said in a full-on Texas drawl. “So you’re the one causing all the problems, hmm?”

  Iris, already furious, bristled even more. “I wouldn’t be causing any problems if this douchebag hadn’t brought me in.” She tried to jerk out of Zane’s grip and failed.

  “That’s what happens when you skip bail.” Quinn’s voice was repressive. “You get re-arrested and taken in.”

  “And you pissed off the cartel,” the man sitting at the bar murmured. “That takes serious balls.” His gaze was full of lazy heat. “Why don’t you come over here and tell me all about it?”

  Iris almost gasped in surprise as Zane unexpectedly jerked her closer. “She’s not going anywhere near you, asshole.” His voice could have frozen fire, though there was nothing cold about the raging heat of his body that was pressed against her back.

  She blinked, finding it difficult to breathe. That scent of his was flooding her senses, clean and fresh with a hint of warm skin and male musk, a combination that was somehow intoxicating.

  “I think she can make up her own mind,” the man at the bar said without a hint of offense. “Can’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Leave it, Rush,” Quinn growled. “She’s a skip.”

  Rush laughed. “I don’t give a shit what she is. She’s hot.”

  “She’s also standing right here,” Iris said acidly. “It’s Goldilocks and the three douchebags.”

  “Mouthy too,” Rush murmured approvingly. “I like it.”

  “Shut the hell up, Rush.” Zane’s grip didn’t ease, his fingers pressing hard into her skin. “If you’re not going to help, then she’s coming with me. End of story.”

  Rush lifted a shoulder. “I’ve changed my mind. We absolutely must help her.”

  Quinn shot his brother a filthy look. “What the fuck? You agreed with me about sending her to Dallas not ten seconds ago.”

  “Like I said, I’ve changed my mind.” Rush looked supremely unc
oncerned. “We don’t need the cash that badly.”

  “It’s about more than just the cash, goddammit.” Quinn shoved his chair back, raking a hand through his disordered black hair. “It’s about the reputation of this company—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You won’t fucking shut up about it.” Rush rolled his eyes. “We won’t mention the fact that Dad pretty much screwed the company’s reputation all by himself.”

  Quinn’s expression was furious. “He was by himself. After we left—”

  “After we left he did nothing but throw everything away down a bottle of bourbon. And not forgetting the fact that we left for a reason.”

  A silence fell, full of roiling tensions and undercurrents.

  Iris stared at Rush and Quinn, fascinated in spite of herself. There was some serious family business going on here, and she kind of wanted to know what it was. Behind her, Zane had gone tense and still, and she had a sudden urge to turn around and look up at him, see the expression on his face.

  But no. As much as she was interested to see what the hell was going on with these guys, the fact remained that they were arguing about her. They were also deciding her fate as if she weren’t even there. Sure, she’d jumped bail and this was justice happening, but she was pretty fucking sick of justice. She was pretty fucking sick of the whole system. And if anyone was going to be making decisions about her fate, that someone was going to be her.

  Staying with this bunch of assholes seemed more and more the wrong thing to do.

  “I have an idea,” she said into the awful silence. “You could just let me go and pretend you never saw me.”

  —

  “No.” Zane’s response was automatic. “That’s not happening so stop saying it.” He tightened his grip on her arm, the skin beneath his fingertips soft and smooth as warm silk. Christ, he should be letting her go, but he couldn’t seem to do it. He didn’t want to risk her escaping, not after he’d only just stopped her from creeping out not five minutes earlier.

  That she probably couldn’t escape him anyway and that holding on to her wasn’t going to make any difference didn’t seem to matter. His fingers wouldn’t open and he’d be damned if he was going to make them, not with that look on Rush’s face. Avid and hungry, like a wolf who’d just spotted an unattended lamb.

  He didn’t question the possessiveness that roared through him at that particular moment, he just went with his gut reaction, which was to pull Iris close and make it clear who she belonged to. Him.

  She belongs to you? Really? That was fast.

  “Well, at least we agree on something.” Quinn stared at him, his gaze dipping to where Zane gripped Iris’s arm and back up again. “Though I’m seriously questioning your motives here.”

  She was so warm against him, the scent of her hair and the soap she’d used the night before making him feel almost dizzy with want. Damn, what was wrong with him? He’d never let a woman get to him like this, never. “She needs help,” he forced out. “That’s all the motive necessary.”

  “I don’t need help,” Iris said, sounding irritated. “What I need is to get on with what I was doing and not get killed. Or jailed. That’s it.”

  “Right and you were doing so well with that,” he snapped back.

  “I’m getting vibes here.” Rush raised an eyebrow, grinning at them in a way that made Zane want to smack him. “Definite vibes.” He glanced at Quinn. “I’m thinking Zane’s motives are a little more than just about help.”

  This was ridiculous. He should never have said anything to Rush about Iris. He’d thought he was dealing with the brother he knew back before he’d gone to jail, the one who’d always been the peacemaker, the moderate. Who’d handled their father’s drunkenness and Quinn’s stubbornness without either shouting or coming to blows. But now it was like he didn’t give a shit what happened. As if he took pleasure in annoying the crap out of them and making the situation worse.

  An unexpected and heavy disappointment settled inside Zane.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this, standing there fighting with the two people who were all he had left of his family. All of them standing there looking at one another like they were strangers. It reminded him too much of the aftermath of Charlie’s death, when everyone was at each other’s throats and looking for someone to blame. The consequences of that had led Rush to prison, Quinn to the navy, himself to the army, and the old man to liver failure, their family disintegrating under the pressure of one terrible mistake.

  Really? Come on, it had already started disintegrating way before that, and you know it.

  That was true. It had all started happening before Charlie, back when his mother had died and his father had changed. But whatever, it was strange to feel this way when only the day before he’d been all pissed about the usual “family first” bullshit his father used to spout. Seemed like that small spark of family feeling was a bit bigger than he’d first thought. It was either that or his perpetual need to fix broken things, and their family was sure as hell broken.

  “No,” he said forcefully, staring at one brother and then the other. “We’re not doing this. We’re not standing around ripping the shit out of each other. Not again. You said Redmonds stick together, Rush. So let’s stick the fuck together. Let’s find an alternative.”

  There was a silence, heavy with memories none of them particularly wanted to revisit.

  Then Rush shot a glance at Quinn who gave a slight shrug and shifted in his chair. “What kind of alternative?” he asked.

  Iris had gone quite still, a certain tension vibrating through her.

  “I’m thinking an alternative that involves getting Iris away from the cartel,” Zane said, his brain already processing through some strategies, “but makes Lone Star look good.”

  “How would you suggest we do that?” Rush asked, his lazy smile vanishing, his expression all business.

  An idea slid into place. An idea that was flat-out risky as hell. But it was the less shitty alternative and if it worked, Iris would be safe, the police would be sweet, and the cartel would be fucked.

  “Iris isn’t the only one who can testify against the cartel.” Zane met Quinn’s gaze, then Rush’s. “There are others. The people after her, in fact.”

  Iris turned all of a sudden, looking up at him, her dark eyes wide. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  He looked down at her. “I mean, if we play this right, we can grab the men who were sent to kill you. That saves you and puts them in the firing line instead.”

  “And how is that going to help Lone Star’s rep?” Quinn asked. “We’re supposed to be delivering bail-jumpers, not taking down drug empires. That’s not our job.”

  “Yeah, I know that.” Zane glanced at Rush. “You still on good terms with the sheriff?”

  His brother’s gaze narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because he might be interested in bringing in some bigger fish than Iris.”

  “You mean we deliver them the cartel pricks instead of her?” Quinn’s voice was neutral, the look on his face utterly expressionless.

  But he was interested, Zane could tell. There was a definite gleam in his eyes. Quinn didn’t change his mind—except in exceptional circumstances when the opposing idea was a good one. For him.

  “It’s risky, but yes. Lone Star gets kudos from the police and they release Iris. The cartel assholes get prison.”

  “What makes you think they’ll agree to that?” Iris hadn’t taken her eyes off him, the look in them very, very sharp. “The police, I mean. And what makes you think the cartel will let me go?”

  “You’re only a drug mule, which means you probably know nothing about them, not really. And if this pans out, the police will have guys who actually know stuff in custody. I’m thinking the cartel will be more worried about them testifying than you. In fact, I think they’ll lose interest in you completely.”

  A crease had appeared between her brows. “What about my arrest?”

  “We can
do a deal. We’ve done them before.” Except the last deal had ended up with Rush in prison. Yeah, he really didn’t want to talk about that.

  Glancing back at Quinn, Zane said, “So? That an alternative you can live with?”

  His brother surveyed him coolly for a long moment, giving away no hint of what he was thinking. “What you’re saying is that you want us to risk our business, not to mention our lives, bringing in a bunch of cartel fuckers so that this woman—who actually ran drugs for said fuckers—goes free.”

  Zane stared stonily back. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Quinn’s face was as expressionless as a rock wall. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why should we risk it? I mean, give me one reason, Zane. You’re going to be fucking off back to Carolina as soon as this is dealt with, right? So why should Rush and I risk everything for her?” He paused, then added, “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Iris muttered dryly.

  This was important, Zane knew. He’d invoked the Redmond stick-together law, which was kind of ironic since he’d always been the one most frustrated with it.

  Joe Redmond had been full of homilies about family loyalty, but the guy was such a hypocrite. Because Zane had always known it wasn’t family that had mattered to his father, it was the bottle.

  No, the thing that had kept Redmonds together had been Elizabeth, their mother. And it had been her death that had sent everything to hell.

  Now here they were and their father was dead, and the situation hadn’t changed one iota. But someone had to pick up the pieces and it might as well be him.

  The irony of the situation did not escape him. Yet what was the alternative? Delivering Iris to the police? Yeah, he’d already decided he couldn’t do that, which left trying to protect her on his own. Which he could do, but not forever and not without help.

  Christ, no matter how much he wanted to get out of this godforsaken hole, it seemed fate had other ideas for him.

  Call it fate if you want. Mostly it’s just your own guilty conscience.