Dark Deeds Page 3

  The high-ceilinged room was filled with beautiful people whose imperfections were softened by the lighting and dull personalities brightened by alcohol. The delicate strains of a string quartet and a setting of eclectic paintings, sculptures and pottery lent everyone—even his jaded, NYPD-detective hide—an air of sophistication.

  Spying the groom standing near the makeshift bar, Diego headed that way. He needed something to take the edge off. As Diego approached, Noah’s gaze flicked from his soon-to-be wife Vanessa, who was talking with her family across the room, to Diego.

  “Phase One complete. Nothing left but the wedding and reception. Would have been nice if the entire wedding party had been able to make it.” Noah narrowed his eyes at him. “You know anything about that?”

  “I had nothing to do with Becca not being there. Haven’t talked to her, let alone seen her, in months.” Seven and a half, to be exact. Casually, he surveyed the room, but didn’t see Becca.

  “You didn’t scare her away?”

  Diego released a gruff laugh and motioned for the bartender to bring him a beer like Noah’s. “As if anyone could.” Becca was the most fearless woman he’d ever met. She’d saved Diego’s sanity last summer. Then she’d disappeared without so much as a Dear John letter. Even a Dear Schmuck text would have sufficed. Still, she’d braved his prickly defenses for a while. She sure as hell wouldn’t cower now.

  Noah grinned. “So you didn’t bump into her before the party and maybe...lock her in your bedroom?”

  “Nope.” Despite his casual response, the image of smooth white skin against his silver sheets and the knowing smile of a fallen angel filled his brain, and he had to swallow to refocus. He changed the subject before it could catch him off guard again. “That was some poker game last night. I, for one, contributed heavily to your honeymoon fund. You’re welcome.”

  Diego had even come away with a nice little souvenir from the bachelor party. The stripper had insisted on tossing him the sexy red garter. But damned if he hadn’t pictured it wrapped around Becca’s creamy thigh. His mouth watered at the image, and at the thought of kissing his way upward, along the curve of her hip, to the little butterfly tattoo just above her panty line. He could almost taste her.

  Again, he forced the memories from his mind. Despite the way she’d left, he respected Becca. Hell, he owed her. She’d kept him on his toes...and pushed him back to the surface when he was drowning. Had. Had pushed him to reach for higher ground when grief and frustration had nearly done him in. But then she’d left him dangling at the edge of the cliff.

  What would she think of the choices he’d made since? He cringed at the thought.

  He’d been tempted to make a fool out of himself and chase after her, or at least demand an explanation. It was a good thing they lived eight hundred miles apart. In the long run, it had worked out for the best that she’d left him in her rearview mirror. He was no good for anybody right now. Besides, they came from totally different backgrounds—his Puerto Rican Catholic and hers...hell, he didn’t really know. In the two weeks they’d gotten to know each other—in the Biblical way—they hadn’t gotten around to talking about religion at all, though she’d called out to the great deity a few times in the heat of the moment.

  “What?” Again, Noah narrowed his eyes on Diego.

  “What, what?” Diego rounded his eyes in what he hoped passed for an innocent expression.

  “You’re grinning.”

  Diego looked away from Noah’s perceptive gaze. They were both detectives—Diego with the NYPD and Noah in Chicago with the CPD—and knew how to break each other down with just a look. They’d met in the second grade and had been like brothers ever since. Thirty years of history gave Noah unique insight.

  “I’m just happy, man.” For a few hours, anyway.

  Noah looked over Diego’s shoulder and frowned. “Hold on to those happy thoughts. Becca’s here. And she brought a plus-one.”

  Diego shifted so he could see the doorway and was rewarded with a swift kick to the chest at the sight of her. Becca’s short white-blond hair gleamed like a halo as a dress the color of a ripe, juicy plum displayed devil-may-care curves. She smiled as Vanessa welcomed her—and her date. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark blond hair, reminiscent of a Viking god, stood at Becca’s side, handing their coats to a waiting attendant in a gentlemanly way. The Viking leaned down and said something in Becca’s ear. Her lips parted on a wicked smile.

  Mine. Hot jealousy slammed into Diego’s gut. He nearly bent over from the unexpected force of it. He clutched his beer like a lifeline.

  As if she felt his eyes on her, she suddenly looked his way. Hell, she probably had felt him. His flash of lust burned as bright and hot as the rays of the sun. Her gaze connected with his, then shifted away as if she hadn’t recognized him, which pissed him off. But it also gave him free rein to observe her again.

  Upon closer inspection, she was slimmer, if that was possible. Her petite frame and heart-shaped face had become streamlined, as if she’d shed any trace of dead weight. Which probably included him. And her eyes...behind the careful distance in their mocha depths was a sadness that hadn’t been there before, almost as if they’d switched places and she was now the lost one.

  He neutralized his expression. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything toward her, anyway. Nothing but tenderness for the time she’d soothed his pain. And he should sign up for some of that oceanfront property in Arizona, too, while he was deluding himself. Loss swamped him and his entire body clenched as if trying to hold off emotions suspiciously akin to...grief.

  Beside him, Noah nudged his arm, then looked pointedly at Diego’s hand. “You may want to switch to something harder. And not in a glass container.”

  “I’m fine.” And definitely delusional.

  “Just talk to her.”

  Diego’s mouth went dry. He’d love to do more than talk. Anything but talk, actually. He and Becca had always communicated just fine between the sheets. But, words? There hadn’t been any need. She’d seemed to understand what he was thinking and feeling, without even asking. He couldn’t say the same on his end.

  No wonder he’d avoided serious relationships. They were hard work.

  Noah smirked. “I’m sure she doesn’t bite.”

  The image that slammed through Diego’s brain like a charging rhino brought a grim smile to his lips and heat to his groin. Becca had bitten him once...but it hadn’t been in anger or defense. And she’d quickly licked and kissed the tender area. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Think fast, big boy. Incoming at eight o’clock.”

  Sure enough, Becca was headed his way.

  * * *

  Becca threaded her way through the crowd and stopped two feet from Diego. Noah greeted her, but quickly excused himself, probably sensing the tension between her and Diego. The noise level prevented her from keeping any more space between them and still having a conversation. His coffee-brown eyes were impenetrable.

  “Glad you could make it,” he said.

  Was he being sarcastic because of her tardiness? She couldn’t tell. Which shocked her, since she’d always been able to read him. In her head, Sulu’s voice from Star Trek ordered, “Shields up.” His distance was her fault, entirely, after how she’d left things. Part of her was relieved. This was how it had to be—shuttered expressions and inane chitchat. At least it was better than the uncontainable grief she used to see in his eyes.

  In fact, he was looking good, his honey skin practically glowing. Gold and diamond cufflinks flashed as he lifted his beer to his lips, reminding her of the other reason she was sticking to safe topics. Was he living the high life with payoffs from the Circle? Could he really betray his fellow officers for money? She hadn’t thought so, but he certainly looked tougher, edgier. Harder.

  “Wouldn’t miss this,” she said.

  “Guess something held you up, then?”

  “Guess so.”

  And she might have dragged her feet a b
it once she’d returned to her hotel room. Selina’s words naming Diego as a Circle minion within the NYPD had plagued Becca for the entire train trip back to the city. Selina had sounded so certain about the name, but she had to be wrong.

  Unless Becca didn’t know Diego as well as she’d thought. After all, they’d only had two weeks together and the defensive, emotionless man standing before her now wasn’t the man she’d known. The man who’d cried in her arms, mourning his niece’s death. Besides, it wasn’t as if it would be the first time Becca had been dangerously wrong about a man.

  Her nerve faltered, and she almost looked back at Matt for help. But Brother Number Four was on the opposite end of the room, chatting with SSAM’s receptionist. Matt would have Becca’s back in a New York minute—if she’d told him anything about Diego and her weakness for him. But she hadn’t. Back in college, she’d shed that young, naïve woman who depended on her family for backup. Now she played things close to the chest. Still, her parents and four older brothers were there for her when she needed them. Matt certainly hadn’t given her any issues when she’d asked him to fly out to accompany her to the wedding festivities this weekend. Then again, he might be sticking close to her given the release of her Colossal Mistake from jail last week. Matt was the only person on earth who knew about it.

  “You look well,” she admitted to Diego. Did her voice sound over-bright? Was her smile shaky? Lord, she’d imagined seeing him again so many times, you’d think she’d have it down pat.

  You’re an actress playing a part. Saucy. Confident. You’ve done this before. She was so good at pretending everything was okay. She’d even psyched herself up to approach him immediately, rather than spend the entire weekend waiting, wondering if he’d talk to her.

  “Time heals all wounds, right?” His voice was melted chocolate drizzled over her body. Her skin prickled painfully as it awakened like a numb limb—her body, asleep for months, shaken to full awareness.

  She looked toward the bartender as he came to their side of the bar. “A shot of anejo.”

  In her peripheral vision, Diego raised his eyebrows. If he thought she needed the hard stuff to steel her nerves, then too bad. Something had to get her through this interminable weekend.

  “So, what kept you?” Diego asked.

  “Duty called.”

  Something that might have been concern flashed in his eyes. A second later, it was gone. Maybe she’d imagined it.

  “What job are you working in New York? Or maybe it was a different kind of duty that kept you.” His gaze slid to Matt and he slugged back a swallow of beer.

  Jealousy or disdain? Whatever it was, Diego’s assumption gave her a layer of protection from him. Let him believe her brother was a romantic interest. She could keep this friendly yet impersonal.

  “I should get back.” She’d take the out he’d given her.

  He raised his brows. “So, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  You scare me. Or, rather, the hormones that slammed through her when she saw him scared her. “I’m fresh out of chitchat.”

  He wouldn’t like the questions burning in her brain. How the hell did your name come to be associated with the Circle, especially when you’re trying to rebuild your career at the NYPD? She wanted to shake the answer out of him, but there were so many reasons to hold her tongue. She didn’t have that kind of connection with him anymore, for one. Not after how she’d left. And she needed to talk to Damian about this new information first. Besides, this wasn’t the place to address things with Diego, and if he was a mole, she certainly didn’t want to tip her hand. She’d rather do some poking around to confirm or deny the accusation without his input.

  “Then I suppose you should just disappear. That is your MO, isn’t it?”

  Ouch. Where was that damn tequila? The bartender was busy filling a server’s tray. Becca was ready to turn and abandon her quest for alcohol when Diego leaned close and spoke again, his voice warm with shared secrets. “I remember a time you couldn’t get enough of me.”

  She jerked back. “You want to go there, now?”

  He shrugged. “I’m fresh out of chitchat.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed I left. What we had was a nice bit of fun, but that was all.” The hitch in her voice belied the casualness of her reply. And she was having trouble meeting his intense gaze. Thank God her tequila had arrived. Rather than take her time sipping it, as she would have liked, she decided to shoot it and retreat. But she caught a glimpse of Diego’s face as she turned to leave. His honey-toned skin had flushed pink. His attention was locked on her throat. What had she done wrong now?

  He blinked and his shields slid back into place. “Yeah, fun. Nice catching up with you.” He toasted her with his beer and meandered away.

  She should be happy he was letting her off the hook by not grilling her for answers she wasn’t prepared to give. So why did she feel so damn disappointed?

  When Becca returned to Matt’s side, he frowned toward Diego but quickly regained his easygoing manner. “Catherine’s been keeping me entertained while you were chatting up that Dwayne Johnson lookalike.”

  Becca stifled a snort. Diego wasn’t that muscular. Sure, he was hard in all the right places, and, physically, a close second to the hunky actor but... She pulled on a mask of indifference as she realized what Matt was doing. Fishing. Ever the protective older brother, Matt was trying to get a reaction out of her, to judge how much she cared about Diego and probe for information on her love life.

  Ex-love life.

  She turned to Catherine, looking for backup. “Be careful. My brother thinks movie heroes should be worshipped. Action movies are his passion. He can recite every line from Aliens. Is that what he’s been boring you with?”

  Catherine herself had a certain movie-star elegance about her. Tall, willowy and strawberry-blonde, she could have been Nicole Kidman’s younger sister.

  “Hardly,” Catherine said. “He asked me about SSAM.”

  “Ah,” Becca said. “Your favorite topic.” If Damian was the brain of the operation, Catherine was the heart. She lived and breathed her job and cared for all the employees like family.

  “She was full of useful information.” Matt’s eyes were concerned as they shifted to Becca. “She told me what you do on a daily basis.” Catherine blushed guiltily.

  Becca frowned. “I’ve told you what I do.”

  “Yeah, but I guess I never really listened.”

  She scoffed. “Well, there’s a shocker. I should have put you in a headlock while I recited my job description.”

  But Matt wasn’t in the mood for her teasing. “It’s not like you willingly share the details of your life.” A look passed between them and Becca knew he was thinking about the nightmare he’d helped her with in college. He was privy to that experience only because she’d been desperate for help...the kind of legal help her newly minted lawyer-brother could provide. “But I can see why you downplay the risk level—Mom and Dad would have had simultaneous coronaries if they’d heard about some of the risks you’ve taken.”

  She’d definitely been gone talking to Diego too long. How much had Catherine told him? The tequila rolled in her empty stomach and she reached for an appetizer off a passing tray. “Well, security experts—”

  “Or bodyguards,” Catherine added.

  “—have to be prepared for anything,” Becca finished. “It’s my job. But Mom and Dad don’t need to know what I’m truly up against. Really, it’s not that dangerous on a daily basis.”

  “Just on occasion.” Matt’s knuckles brushed her neck as he reached out and affectionately tugged on the end of her hair. He’d teased that she’d cut it short so that her brothers could no longer use it against her. He was only partly wrong. The haircut had been a reflection of her transformation. The new Becca had emerged from a cocoon, and only she knew what it had cost her. Well, Matt had some idea. He knew about the man who’d been released on parole last week...and what that man had done
to her life, shaping it irrevocably.

  Concern etched her brother’s forehead. As a lawyer, he was likely considering what he knew about her past and how it connected with this new information about her career choice.

  Becca’s chin rose into the air. “I can hold my own.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Matt said with all seriousness. “I’m still glad I’m here, though, after the week you’ve had.”

  Becca shot him a meaningful look, using nonverbal cues to tell him to shut up. She didn’t want to discuss this in front of Catherine.

  Mischief sparked in Matt’s eyes, but he backed away from the subject. “I’m certain you can take care of yourself. Speaking for all the Haney men, we’ve taught you well, grasshopper.”

  At the familiar reference, Becca smiled. But when Vanessa’s melodic laugh drew her attention to a group of people several feet away, Becca’s gaze collided with Diego’s and her smile faded. When Matt tugged at her hair again to get her attention, Diego’s mouth tightened.

  Matt eyed his empty drink. “I think I’ll get a refill. Anything for you two?”

  Catherine shook her head.

  “Tequila shot,” Becca called as he walked away.

  “Diego looks like he wants to devour you,” Catherine said. “Or beat up Matt.”

  “Maybe he just ate a bad shrimp.”

  “He doesn’t know Matt’s your brother, does he?”

  “No. And it works for me, so let’s just let it go.” Deep down, Becca felt pathetic. Juvenile tricks weren’t going to satisfy the hunger. That beast wanted to be fed and had developed a taste for one man, and one man alone. Now that the man was near, nothing else would do. She’d have to stuff the beast back in its cage until she left on Sunday.