It Takes Two: Deep in the Heart, Book 1 (9 page)

Carter sighed, shaking his head. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Zach, you know that. And you’re the best deal-maker around. I hate to break up our team. Naturally, I’m hoping you’ll change your mind in due time, maybe after a few honeymoon trips with your new wife.” Carter leaned back in the leather chair, lighting up a cigar. “Life is full of surprises.”

“Don’t count on me being one of those surprises,” Zach warned. Carter’s complacency worried him. It was almost as if the man knew something Zach didn’t, and he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling it had something to do with this latest deal.

“Is your father coming to the wedding?” Carter asked.

The question surprised Zach. He slipped a wary glance at Carter. He knew his entire history with his father; had, in fact, met him on the few occasions when his father visited him at the office. Ah, those monthly visits, always under the guise of gruff, fatherly love. Once Zach’s check was in his father’s hand, it never failed to surprise him how quickly his father disappeared. Until the money ran out again, of course.

Whether or not his father would extend himself to attending his only son’s wedding, Zach couldn’t say. He simply wished Carter hadn’t asked the question. A disinterested shrug of his shoulders communicated the only answer Zach was prepared to give.

“Ah.” Carter took a deep drag on the cigar, exhaling slowly. “I’m sure he’ll make your big day if he can.”

Zach pushed back his chair, standing up without commenting. “I’ll see you, Carter. I’m going to go make some calls.”

“All right. Tomorrow’s another day.”

Zach was almost to the door when Carter’s voice stopped him. “By the way, have you seen LouAnn yet?”

He turned around. “I did yesterday.”

Last night was more the truth. However, Zach didn’t see any need to mention that.

“She forgive you for not showing up for the big party?”

LouAnn hadn’t seemed to be holding any grudges when they’d attempted to make love. Zach shrugged again. “Didn’t seem to be too much of a problem.”

Carter’s eyes twinkled. “I’m not surprised. She’s a generous woman, Zach. LouAnn’ll make you a fine wife.”

Zach nodded in brief agreement, then turned around and walked out the door. He didn’t want to think about LouAnn and her premium qualities to be a first-rate wife, a suitable life partner for him.

In the parking lot, he pulled off his jacket as he loped to his car. If he hurried, he might catch his father before the bingo parlor opened for Monday night games. There were many things he wanted to discuss with his father, but today, one thing in particular weighed on his mind. Carter’s question had stirred up a buzzard’s nest of anxiety. For once in his life, would his father be capable of acting like a father? Or was the knotty, selfish old man who shared Zach’s name going to remain an eternal pain in the butt?

Surely he’d show up for the damn wedding, Zach thought. Even his father wouldn’t stoop to embarrassing Zach in such a manner. The car ate up the white lines faster as he drove out of the Austin city limits.

The old man had better act right for once in his life, or Zach wasn’t going to be responsible for his actions the next time his father showed up with his hand out. Very possibly, Pop would be the recipient of a one-way trip out Zach’s office window.

By the time he pulled up in front of the dingy shack, tension had threaded itself into Zach’s shoulders and neck. Paint that had once been white now flaked off the weather-beaten wood of his father’s house in uncertain curls of disrepair. Anger deepened the taut feeling in his chest. Where in the hell did all the money he gave his father go every month? As far as he knew, alcohol soaked up some of it, but it wasn’t like his father was fond of Chivas Regal. Bingo was his only source of entertainment, but Monday nights couldn’t amount to much. No cable, few groceries, not even a daily newspaper—yet every month or so, his father asked him for a large sum of money, which Zach always willingly wrote a check to cover. Each time hoping, somewhere in his soul, that his father might acknowledge it with a nod of thanks, even a terse smile.

He stepped onto the porch and knocked. The door creaked open at his touch. Stale liquor smells reached him as he poked his head inside. “Pop? You home?” he called, stepping inside.

The shambles of the darkened living room dismayed him, though he’d seen it one hundred times before. After all, this was the room he’d grown up in—and finally escaped from.

“What are you doing here, dammit?”

A slightly bent figure staggered into the hallway. Zach flicked on a lamp, searching the glare on his father’s face for any sign of reluctant welcome. It wasn’t there.

“I said, what are you doing here?”

“Just came by to check on you, Pop.”

“What for?” the old man demanded suspiciously. “Who appointed you my guardian?”

Zach ignored the jibe and sat down on the sofa instead. The seat sagged with his weight, and he realized the springs were shot. “Your sofa’s busted.”

“And Santy Claus has balls. In my day you didn’t have to go to a fancy college to figure out when something was broken,” his father stated.

“Come on, Pop. I was surprised, that’s all. Don’t take it personally”

“I don’t need you coming around here with your nose in the air. I didn’t ask you to come.”

“You never do,” Zach pointed out. “I need to talk to you.”

“Well, whoop-de-do. Mr. Important wants to talk to his old man. What’s the matter? That flashy suit scratching your tender skin? Maybe your shoes didn’t get shined the way you wanted.” His father spat, barely missing Zach’s black shoe. “There. There’s some shine for you.”

“Damn, Pop!” Zach shot up from the sofa. “What in the hell is your problem? What did I ever do to you?”

“It’s your holier-than-thou attitude, Zach. Whether you like it or not, this is my house. I don’t need you coming in here acting like you’re some kind of king. If what I got ain’t good enough for you, then get the hell out.”

Zach sighed, massaging the back of his neck. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? How you live is none of my business. But for chrissakes, I give you enough money—”

“I wondered when you’d bring that up. You want to know what I do with that money? I got me a fancy whore, same as you. I buy her expensive earrings so she’ll keep her legs open, and—”

“Shut up!” Zach’s command sliced the air. “Your filthy mouth is going to lose some of its teeth if you ever talk about LouAnn like that again.” Furious, he crossed the room to his father’s side, noticing that he shrank down as if fearing Zach would touch him. “How did you know about the earrings?”

His father shook his head.

“You are going to tell me, or the freeloader’s payroll closes its doors. How do you know about the earrings?”

“Carter came by yesterday.” His father twisted away and went to a cabinet, grabbing out a paper bag. He tipped it to his mouth for a long gulp.

Zach watched him, trying to assimilate that information. Why would Carter come here? Instantly, he realized his father was probably lying. “Give me a break, Pop. Are you saying Carter came over for a glass of tea and some friendly chitchat, and the two of you discussed earrings?”

“We discussed what a screwup you are, if you want to know the truth.” He laughed, the sound mocking. “Oh, I heard all about the land deal. If you ask me, that blonde bimbo of yours has sucked out your guts.”

Zach strode to the front door, afraid he was about to lose his temper and flay his father. He started to leave, but then slowly turned around. With clear enunciation, he said, “I don’t recognize you as my father any longer.”

His father threw back his head and laughed. “I never recognized you as my son, so that just about makes us even.”

A web of suspicion trapped Zach at the front door. “What are you saying?”

“Why do you think I never gave you my name?” His father’s chip-toothed grin told Zach how much he was enjoying this moment. “I never married your mother because she was a slut. God only knows who your father is.”

“That’s a lie.” White-hot fury whipped through Zach. He took two steps forward before he realized what he was doing and stopped. “Why are you lying?”

The grin on his father’s face turned to a snarl. “Because I hate you, boy. I always have; I always will. Your sleazy mama thought I’d marry her if she was pregnant. She was wrong. No way was I falling into that trap. That’s all it was, a trap. You were the bait, but I was too smart to bite.”

“You must have felt something for her. She lived here until I was eight years old.” Zach’s mind denied that his father had hated him from conception. Vague memories of his mother holding him, crooning lullabies to him in Spanish, surfaced. He’d grown to love the spicy food she cooked, and how the house always smelled of warm flour. His mother represented the only softness he’d ever known in his childhood.

“I didn’t make her leave. She ran back to Mexico, fast as her little brown legs could carry her, once she figured out I wasn’t her ticket to a green card,” his father snarled. “Left me with a bastard to raise who didn’t look a thing like me.”

“Where is she now?” Hope wavered inside Zach that after all these years he might be able to find his mother.

“How the hell do I know? Don’t you think I would have found her if I could have?”

For a fleeting instant, Zach thought he saw regret, or something like it, in his father’s weathered eyes. Shock rose inside him. Did his father regret the way he’d treated Zach’s mother?

His father saw the expression on his face and laughed cruelly. “Oh, no. Don’t you go thinking that I wanted her back. I tried to find her so I could give her back the little frijole she so kindly left behind.”

“My mother wouldn’t have left me. She would have taken me to Mexico with her.”

His father turned away and took a long swig from the brown-wrapped bottle. “Yeah, well, believe that if you want to. The fact is, your mother left me—and she left you, too.”

Something wasn’t making sense. His father seemed to be deliberately twisting the story, or maybe his mind had simply changed it over the years. He was certain his father had thrown his mother out. Vaguely, he remembered his parents having a terrible argument one night while he was in bed. The shouting had been frightening to an eight-year-old, although he was used to witnessing their disagreements. But not like this one. It had started out with another woman’s name being tossed around, which was how all of them started. But it had quickly escalated into something more violent. There had been shouting and a loud crash—Zach’s mind blocked the memory. All he remembered was that the next morning his mother was gone. He’d never seen her again.

But she wouldn’t have left Zach if there’d been any other way around it. His heart knew that with an abiding certainty. Gradually, the knowledge calmed him, and Zach realized what was really bothering his father. “She didn’t leave me, Pop. She left you. You ran her off with your drinking and whoring. Every weekend it was a different bar, a different perfume Mama had to smell when you finally dragged yourself home in the morning.” He stepped close to his father and jabbed a finger on his chest. “You’ve never forgiven her for leaving you. And you’ve spent all these years feeling sorry for yourself and blaming it all on me.”

Zach turned and strode to the front door, jerking it open. He stepped out into the soft summer twilight. “By the way, don’t bother coming to the wedding. We both agree I’d be lying if I introduced you as my father.” He let the door slam and walked to his car. As usual, the simplest conversation between him and Pop had escalated into a battle. Zach started the car, throwing it into reverse hard enough to feel gravel grinding under the tires. He could never get away from his past fast enough.

Chapter Six

Annie’s emotions were strung tight from sitting in the hospital for hours on end. Although her father had made it through surgery in good condition, waiting to see if complications would crop up was wearing her down.

There was little to do in the hospital except wait and stare at the drab yellowed walls, and she found her mind drifting to Zach despite herself. Even when he’d worn a solemn expression, she caught herself staring at his lips, remembering their stolen moment by the pond. Oh, no doubt those lips had seduced many women; she herself had wanted to believe every word that had come out of Zach’s mouth.

Kissing him had been a dizzying experience. Carlos had loved her deeply, and she had known delicious passion with him. But the taste of Zach had sent her spinning into deep waters of forbidden hunger. He was so confident, so self-assured, so strong and handsome.

Annie understood why her father feared Zach’s presence. Zach Rayez was a man who would rarely suffer a setback once he set his mind on a goal. If his looks didn’t get him what he wanted, his personality could. Carlos had been extraordinarily handsome too, but Annie had enjoyed being the one true love of his life. He was as solid and unchanging as the earth he’d tilled.

So why had the fangs of attraction bitten her so deeply from the moment she’d laid eyes on Zach? Conventional wisdom warned her that a man like Zach would never settle down; his heart would never be one woman’s. He’d always be searching, striving.

Yet her woman’s wisdom denied that interpretation of Zach Rayez. She’d sensed his desire for her—and also his fierce determination not to touch her. He had been concerned for her, and she’d seen real pangs of distress in his dark eyes when her father had become ill at the table.