Читать книгу Falling For Rachel: the classic story from the queen of romance that you won’t be able to put down - Нора Робертс - Страница 9

Though it brought on all manner of headaches, Rachel took her new charge seriously. She could handle the inconvenience, the extra time sliced out of her personal life, Nick’s surly and continued resentment. What gave her the most trouble was the enforced proximity with Zackary Muldoon.

She couldn’t dismiss him and she couldn’t work around him. Having to deal with him on what was essentially a day-to-day basis was sending her stress level through the roof.

If only she could pigeonhole him, she thought as she walked from the subway to her apartment after a Sunday dinner with her family, it would somehow make things easier. But after nearly a week of trying, she hadn’t even come close.

He was rough, impatient, and, she suspected, potentially violent. Yet he was concerned enough about his stepbrother to shell out money and—much more vital—time and energy to set the boy straight. In his off hours, he dressed in clothes more suited to the rag basket than his tall, muscled frame. Yet when she’d walked through his apartment over the bar, she’d found everything neat as a pin. He was always putting his hands on her—her arm, her hair, her shoulder—but he had yet to make the kind of move she was forever braced to repel.

He flirted with his female customers, but as far as Rachel had been able to glean, it stopped at flirtation. He’d never been married, and though he’d left his family for months, even years, at a time, he’d given up the sea and had landlocked himself when his father became too ill to care for himself.

He irritated her on principle. But on some deeper, darker level, the very things about him that irritated her fanned little flames in her gut that Rachel could only describe as pure lust.

She’d tried to cool them by reminding herself that she wasn’t the lusty type. Passionate, yes. When it came to her work, her family and her ambitions. But men, though she enjoyed their companionship and their basic maleness, had never been at the top of her list of priorities.

Sex was even lower than that. And it was very annoying to find herself itchy.

So who was Zackary Muldoon, and would she be better off not knowing?

When he stepped out of the shadows into the glow of a streetlight, she jolted and choked back a scream.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I— Damn it, you scared me to death.” She brought a trembling hand back out of her purse, where it had shot automatically toward a bottle of Mace. Oh, she hated to be frightened. Detested having to admit she could be vulnerable. “What are you doing lurking out here in front of my building?”

“Looking for you. Don’t you ever stay home?”

“Muldoon, with me it’s party, party, party.” She stalked up the steps and jammed her key in the outer door. “What do you want?”

“Nick took off.”

She stopped halfway through the door, and he bumped solidly into her. “What do you mean, took off?”

“I mean he slipped out of the kitchen sometime this afternoon, when Rio wasn’t looking. I can’t find him.” He was so furious—with Nick, with Rachel, with himself—that it took all of his control not to punch his fist through the wall. “I’ve been at it almost five hours, and I can’t find him.”

“All right, don’t panic.” Her mind was already clicking ahead as she walked through the tiny lobby to the single gate-fronted elevator. “It’s early, just ten o’clock. He knows his way around.”

“That’s the trouble.” Disgusted with himself, Zack stepped in the car with her. “He knows his way around too well. The rule was, he’d tell me when he was going, and where. I’ve got to figure he’s hanging out with the Cobras.”

“Nick’s not going to break that kind of tie overnight.” Rachel continued to think as the elevator creaked its way up to the fourth floor. “We can drive ourselves crazy running around the city trying to hunt him down, or we can call in the cavalry.”

“The cavalry?”

She shoved the gate open and walked into the hallway. “Alex.”

“No cops,” Zack said quickly, grabbing her arms. “I’m not setting the cops on him.”

“Alex isn’t just a cop. He’s my brother.” Struggling to hold on to her own patience, she pried his fingers from her arms. “And I’m an officer of the court, Zack. If Nick’s breaking the provisions, I can’t ignore it.”

“I’m not going to see him tossed back in a cell barely a week after I got him out.”

“We got him out,” she corrected, then unlocked her door. “If you didn’t want my help and advice, you shouldn’t have come.”

Zack shrugged and stepped inside. “I guess I figured we could go out looking together.”

The room was hardly bigger than the one Nick had rented, but it was all female. Not flouncy, Zack thought. Rachel wouldn’t go for flounce. There were vivid colors in the plump pillows tossed over a low-armed sofa. The scented candles were burned down to various lengths, and mums were just starting to fade in a china vase.

There was a huge bronze-framed oval mirror on one wall. Its glass needed resilvering. A three-foot sculpture in cool white marble dominated one corner. It reminded Zack of a mermaid rising up out of the sea. There were smaller sculptures, as well, all of them passionate, some of them bordering on the ferocious. A timber wolf rearing out of a slab of oak, twisted fingers of bronze and copper that looked like a fire just out of control, a smooth and sinuous malachite cobra ready to strike.

There were shelves of books, and dozens of framed photographs—and there was the unmistakable scent of woman.

Zack felt uncharacteristically awkward and clumsy, and completely out of place. He stuck his hands in his pockets, certain he’d knock over one of those slender tapers. His mother had liked candles, he remembered. Candles and flowers and blue china bowls.

“I’ll make coffee.” Rachel tossed her purse aside and walked into the adjoining kitchen.

“Yeah. Good.” Restless, Zack roamed the room, checked out the view through the cheerful striped curtains, frowned over the photographs that were obviously of her family, paced back to the sofa. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What makes me think I can play daddy to a kid Nick’s age? I wasn’t around for half his life. He hates me. He’s got a right.”

“You’ve been doing fine,” Rachel countered, taking out cups and saucers. “You’re not playing daddy, you’re being his brother. If you weren’t around for half his life, it’s because you had a life of your own. And he doesn’t hate you. He’s angry and full of resentment which is a long way from hate—which he wouldn’t have any right to. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, and get out the milk.”

“Is that how you cross-examine?” Not sure whether he was amused or annoyed, Zack opened the refrigerator.

“No, I’m much tougher than that in court.”

“I bet.” He shook his head at the contents of her refrigerator. Yogurt, a package of bologna, another of cheese, several diet soft drinks, a jug of white wine, two eggs, and half a stick of butter. “You’re out of milk.”

She swore, then sighed. “So we drink it black. Did you and Nick have a fight?”

“No— I mean no more than usual. He snarls, I snarl back. He swears, I swear louder. But we actually had what could pass for a conversation last night, then watched an old movie on the tube after the bar closed.”

“Ah, progress…” She handed him his coffee in a dainty cup and saucer that felt like a child’s tea set in his hands.

“We get a lot of families in for lunch on Sundays.” Zack ignored the china handle and wrapped his fingers around the bowl of the cup. “He was down in the kitchen at noon. I figured he might like to knock off early, you know, take some time for himself. I went into the kitchen around four. Rio didn’t want to rat on him, so he’d been covering for him for an hour or so. I hoped he’d just taken a breather, but… Then I went out looking.” Zack finished off the coffee, then helped himself to more. “I’ve been pretty hard on him the last few days. It seemed like the best way. On my first ship, my CO was a regular Captain Bligh. I hated the bastard until I realized he’d turned us into a crew.” Zack grinned a little. “Hell, I still hated him, but I never forgot him.”

“Stop beating yourself up.” She couldn’t prevent herself from reaching out, touching his arm. “It isn’t as if you hanged him from the yardarm or whatever. Now sit down and try to relax. Let me talk to Alex.”

He did sit, though he wasn’t happy about it. Because he felt like an idiot trying to balance the delicate saucer on his knee, he set it down on the table. There wasn’t an ashtray in sight, so he clamped down on the urge for a cigarette.

He paid little attention to Rachel until her voice rose in frustration. Then he smiled a little. She was certainly full of fire, punching out requests and orders with the aplomb of a seasoned seaman. Lord, he’d gotten so he looked forward to hearing that throaty, impatient voice. How many times over the past few days had he made up excuses to call her?

Too many, he admitted. Something about the lady had hooked him, and Zack wasn’t sure whether he wanted to pry himself loose or be reeled in.

And the last thing he should be doing now was thinking of his libido, he reminded himself. He had to think about Nick.

Obviously Rachel’s brother was resisting, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. When she switched to heated Ukrainian, Zack reached over to toy with the spitting cobra in the center of the coffee table. It drove him crazy when she talked in Ukrainian.

“Tak,” she said, satisfied that she’d worn Alex down. “I owe you one, Alexi.” She laughed, a rich, and full-blooded laugh that sent heat straight to Zack’s midsection. “All right, all right, so I’ll owe you two.” Zack watched her hang up and cross long legs covered in a hunter-green material that was silky enough to whisper seductively when her thighs brushed together. “Alex and his partner are going to cruise around, check out some of the Cobras’ known haunts. They’ll let us know if they see him.”

“So we wait?”

“We wait.” She rose and took a fresh legal pad from a drawer. “To pass the time, you can fill me in a little more on Nick’s background. You said his mother died when he was about fifteen. What about his father?”

“His mother wasn’t married before.” Zack reached automatically for a cigarette, then remembered. Recognizing the gesture, Rachel rose again and found a chipped ashtray. “Thanks.” Relieved, he lit a cigarette, cupping his fingers around the tip out of habit. “Nadine was about eighteen when she got pregnant, and the guy wasn’t interested in family. He took off and left her to fend for herself. So she had Nick and did what she could. One day she came into the bar looking for work. Dad hired her.”

“How old was Nick?”

“Four or five. Nadine was barely making ends meet. Sometimes she couldn’t get a sitter for him, so Dad told her to bring the kid along and I’d watch him. He was okay,” Zack said with a half smile. “I mean, he was real quiet. Most of the time he’d just watch you like he was expecting to get dumped on. But he was smart. He’d just started school, but he could already read, and he could print some, too. Anyway, a couple months later, Nadine and my father got married. Dad was about twenty years older than she was, but I guess they were both lonely. My mother’d been dead for more than ten years. Nadine and the kid moved in.”

“How did you…how did Nick adjust?”

“It seemed okay. Hell, I was a kid myself.” Restless again, he rose to pace. “Nadine bent over backward trying to please everyone. That’s the way she was. My father…he wasn’t always easy, you know, and he put a lot of time into the bar. We weren’t a Norman Rockwell kind of family, but we did okay.” He glanced back at her photographs, surprised at the quick twinge of envy. “I didn’t mind the kid hanging around me. Much. Then I joined the navy, right out of high school. It was kind of a family tradition. When Nadine died, it was hard on Nick. Hard on my father. I guess you could say they took it out on each other.”

“Is that when Nick started to get into trouble?”

“I’d say he got into his share before that, but it got worse. Whenever I’d get back, my father would be full of complaints. The boy wouldn’t do this, he did that. He was hanging around with punks. He was looking for trouble. And Nick would skulk off or slam out. If I said anything, he’d tell me to kiss his—” He shrugged. “You get the picture.”

She thought she did. A young boy unwanted by his father. He begins to admire his new brother, and then feels deserted by him, as well. He loses his mother and finds himself alone with a man old enough to be his grandfather, a man who couldn’t relate to him.

Nothing permanent in his life—except rejection.

“I’m not a psychologist, Zack, but I’d say he needs time to trust that you mean to stay part of his life this time around. And I don’t think taking a firm hand is wrong. In fact, I think that’s just what he’d understand from you, and respect in the long run. Maybe that just needs to be balanced a bit.” She sighed and set her notes aside. “Which is where I come in. So far, I’ve been just as rough on him. Let’s try a little good-cop/bad-cop. I’ll be the sympathetic ear. Believe me, I understand hotheads and bad boys. I grew up with them. We can start by—” The phone rang and she snagged it. “Hello. Uh-huh. Good. That’s good. Thanks, Alex.” She could see the relief in Zack’s eyes before she hung up. “They spotted him on his way back to the bar.”

Relief sparked quickly into anger. “When I get my hands on him—”

“You’ll ask, in a very reasonable fashion, where he was,” Rachel told him. “And to make certain you do, I’m going with you.”

Nick let himself into Zack’s apartment. He figured he’d been pretty clever. He’d managed to slip in and out of the kitchen without setting off Rio’s radar. The way they were watching him around here, he thought, he might as well be doing time.

Everything was going wrong, anyway. He ducked into the kitchen and, since Zack wasn’t around to say any different, opened a beer. He’d just wanted to check in with the guys, see what was happening on the street.

And they’d treated him like an outsider.

They didn’t trust him, Nick thought resentfully as he swigged one long swallow, then two. Reece had decided that since he’d gotten out so quickly, he must have ratted. He thought he’d convinced most of the gang that he was clean, but when he’d spilled the whole story—from how he’d been caught to how he’d ended up washing dishes in Zack’s bar, they’d laughed at him.

It hadn’t been the good, communal laughter he’d shared with the Cobras in the past. It had been snide and nasty, with T.J. giggling like a fool and Reece smirking and playing with his switchblade. Only Cash had been the least bit sympathetic, saying how it was a raw deal.

Not one of them had bothered to explain why they’d left him hanging when the cop showed up.

When he’d left them, he’d gone by Marla’s place. They’d been seeing each other steadily for the past couple of months, and he’d been sure he’d find a sympathetic ear, and a nice warm body. But she’d been out—with somebody else.

Looked as though he’d been dumped again, all around. Nothing new, Nick told himself. But the sting of rejection wasn’t any easier to take this time.

Damn it, they were supposed to be his family. They were supposed to stick up for him, stand by him, not shake him loose at the first hint of trouble. He wouldn’t have done it to them, he told himself, and heaved the empty beer bottle into the trash, where it smashed satisfactorily. No, by God, he wouldn’t have done it to them.

When he heard the door open, he set his face into bored lines and sauntered out of the kitchen. He’d expected Zack, but he hadn’t expected Rachel. Nick felt a heat that was embarrassment and something more try to creep up into his cheeks.

Zack peeled off his jacket, hoping he had a firm grip on his temper. “I guess you’ve got a good reason why you skipped out this afternoon.”

“I wanted some air.” Nick pulled out a cigarette, struck a match. “There a law against it?”

“We had an agreement,” Zack said evenly. “You were supposed to check with me before you went out, and tell me your plans.”

“No, man. You had an agreement. Last I looked it was a free country and people could go for a walk when they felt like it.” He gestured toward Rachel. “You bring the lawyer to sue me, or what?”

“Listen, kid—”

“I’m not a kid,” Nick shot back. “You came and went as you damn well pleased when you were my age.”

“I wasn’t a thief at your age.” Incensed, Zack took two steps forward. Rachel snagged his arm.