Secrets and Sins: Raphael: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) (7 page)

He rounded the desk and perched on the edge directly in front of her, crossing his arms. The toes of his shoes nudged the tips of her boots, and she fought the urge to edge her feet back and away from even that small contact. She also tried—and failed—not to stare at the stretch of cotton across his broad chest and shoulders. The first time they’d met in his office for the private security consultation, he’d been dressed in a suit. As sexy as he’d been in the dark jacket and slacks, she preferred him as he was now—as he’d been that December night. Today, he’d traded casual slacks and shoes for the cargo pants and boots he’d worn in the bar, but the long-sleeved black knit was so…him. Dark. Uncompromising. No-nonsense. The piercings in his eyebrow and ears testified to the wildness inside him, as did the tattoos she knew covered both arms and shoulders. Tattoos she’d feverishly kissed, traced with her tongue…

Sooo not going there.

“Look, princess, I know the solution isn’t ideal.”

She smothered the instinctive cringe at his “princess.” Unlike their night together, it wasn’t a verbal seduction. This was mocking, not a playful endearment.

“You don’t want to stay with me, and frankly, when I woke up this morning I wasn’t envisioning returning home with a roommate,” he said. “But it’s only temporary. This is about more than me, you, and your aversion to me. It’s about your safety. What you came to me for, not the police, not your brother. So you have to trust me, Greer. Trust me, and let me do what I’m good at.”

Trust me
. The last time he’d said those words to her, she’d ended up with her dress around her waist, her panties on the floor, and him deep inside her.

“So,” he continued, “you have one of two choices. You can come home with me to a house that’s big enough for us to avoid each other all we want. Or I can go with you back to your brother’s house. Probably not as spacious or comfy. And he might have a problem with an extra guest. Especially one that knocked up his baby sister. But”—he shrugged—“wouldn’t bother me one bit. So your choice. My house or both of us become brother Ethan’s…roomies.”

Chapter Eight

If looks could kill, Raphael would be quartered, drawn, stabbed, and Greer would be looking forward to three hots and a cot.

He held open the door to his office and escorted her through the entrance. His hand hovered near the small of her back, but he dropped his arm. Best not to tempt fate. Because if she flinched from his touch now, he might blow his shit.

Still, eyeing her stiff shoulders, he couldn’t help the mental fist pump over outmaneuvering her. Why he cared that he’d cornered her into coming home with him he didn’t want to analyze. Or why he’d issued the demand in the first place. Honestly, he could’ve placed a security detail on her brother’s house along with adding the cameras and alarms. But the thought of leaving her protection up to anyone else didn’t sit right.
Didn’t sit right.
What a pretty way to describe the itch to go all Stone Cold Steve Austin on anyone who dared get near her.

Which was insane as hell.

Yeah, they’d had a one-night stand—not his first but not an ordinary event, either. And yeah, she claimed he was the father of her unborn child. Which while possible, he refused to believe. Or accept. Believing and accepting led to stupid-ass things like getting your hopes up and getting attached. Followed up by the coup de gr
âce
of getting left.

So, yeah, assigning bodyguards would’ve cleaned his hands of any responsibility while helping her out at the same time. And he had almost done just that…but at the last second “you’re coming home with me” had popped out, complete with me-Tarzan-you-Jane chest-thumping bullshit.

Yeah, best not to peer too deeply at his reaction.

“Sara, could you cancel my two o’clock meeting and tell him I’ll call to reschedule?” he called out to his administrative assistant. “And then could you forward all my calls to my cell? I’m going to be working from the house for the next few days.”

Greer emitted a small gasp. “That’s not necess—”

“Sara?” Rafe arched an eyebrow, cutting off Greer’s new objection—because God, the woman had so many of them.

“Sure thing, Rafe.” Her curious gaze darted from him, to Greer, then back to him.

Movement in his peripheral vision snagged his attention.

Two men rose from the chairs in the waiting area. The taller one with dark-brown hair and wearing a suit as if his DNA had been genetically engineered to wear it, Rafe recognized. Greer’s brother, Ethan Addison. The other man, a blond several inches shorter than Ethan and a shade less formal in a sports jacket and pants, Rafe didn’t know. But from the death glare the blond aimed in Rafe’s direction, he wondered if maybe he’d stolen his lunch money when they were kids…or if Rafe had knocked up
his
sister, too.

“Greer? Is everything okay?” the shorter man asked, skirting the magazine-covered coffee table and heading in their direction. “Are
you
okay?”

“I’m fine, Noah,” she said, and though Rafe stood behind her, he could hear the smile in her voice. Could also detect the forced cheerfulness. The woman couldn’t lie worth a damn. And apparently Noah—whoever he was—picked up on it as well.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he took her hands in his, Ethan hot on his heels. Rafe didn’t pay her brother a bit of attention. The grabby Ryan Phillippe wannabe, though? He had Rafe’s total focus as if he’d paid shipping and handling for it. What were they to each other that he felt comfortable touching and comforting her? And that she let him? “Don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ line. I can tell something’s up.”

“Nothing.” She sighed and gently tugged her hands from his grasp. And the hot band across Rafe’s chest loosened.

“Give her room to breathe, Noah,” Ethan softly admonished. Turning to Rafe, he extended his arm. “Mr. Marcel,” he greeted with a chilly politeness.

Rafe shook his hand, not blaming him for the cool reception. He’d promised the other man he’d return his sister home safe and sound. Not only had Rafe dropped her off to a crime scene but, according to what Ethan believed, pregnant. His control was admirable considering that under the same circumstances, Rafe would’ve planted his fist in the face of the son of a bitch who did that to his sister.

He nodded. “Nice to see you again.” He switched his regard to Noah. “And you are?”

A heavy, tension-filled pause and then, “Noah Granger.” He didn’t offer his hand.

“Noah’s my best friend, Raphael. Noah, Raphael Marcel.” Greer made the introduction with more than a little bit of exasperation. Whether it was directed at him or her friend, he couldn’t tell. Considering how their earlier meeting had gone, most likely him. “Ethan, Noah, I promise I’m okay. I told Raphael about the—the incidents, and he’s agreed to…to…” She glanced over her shoulder at him, a quiet pleading in her eyes. He sighed, took pity on her.

“She’s moving in with me.”

The plea transformed into an eat-shit-and-die glare. Of course he doubted Little Miss Perfect would’ve phrased it like that, but her fierce glower definitely telegraphed
up yours
. And here he was only trying to help
her
out.

“What did you say?” Noah snapped. His eyebrows arrowed down in a deep vee, his lips forming a sneer. “What the hell is he talking about, Greer?”

“Noah, please,” she hissed. “We’re in a place of business. Could you try to keep your voice down?”

Rafe glanced over at Sara, who didn’t even pretend she wasn’t listening—and wasn’t captivated by the drama. One thing about their firm, the employees were like an extended family. And that included cracking one another’s balls and being in one another’s business.

“Fine,” Noah bit out but at a lower volume. “What the hell is he talking about?” he repeated.

“He’s talking about her living with him while he tracks down the asshole who’s been stalking her,” Rafe drawled.

She tossed him another dirty look. “You. Are. Not. Helping.”

He heaved an aggrieved sigh and threw up his hands. Behind him Sara snickered.

“You can’t be serious.” Again Noah grabbed her hands, lightly shaking them. Frowning, Rafe shifted closer behind her. “Honey, I know you’re scared. I get that. But this? Staying with someone you barely know? This is crazy.”

“I can’t stay with Ethan any longer. I brought a nutcase straight to his door, potentially putting him and Jason in danger—”

“You know I don’t care about that, sweetie,” Ethan said softly. “Neither does Jason. You don’t have to leave.”

“I know. And I love you for not caring about it. But I do. And Raphael’s the best choice. Security, protecting people—it’s what he does. And I’m pregnant. I don’t have only myself to consider any longer.”

Rafe remained quiet as she repeated almost verbatim the reasons he’d lobbed at her in his office. Truth rang in her rationalization, and if he hadn’t had a front-row seat to her initial vehement objections, he would’ve believed the live-in solution had been her idea.

“You know you can stay with me,” Noah insisted. “Endangering Ethan wouldn’t be an issue, and you wouldn’t have to live with a stranger. You’ve just gotten out of the hospital. You need to be around people you trust, who can care for you—”

Shock jolted him. Something close to panic chased it like a lovesick girl on a school playground.
Hospital? She hadn’t said anything about being in the hospital
. “When were you admitted? The baby?” Was that dread curdling his gut like sour milk?
Don’t get too attached. Might not be your kid. And even if it is, she’s going to jump ship so fast, taking the baby with her, you won’t even see the dust. Keep your distance
. Right, right. Got it… “Are you two okay?”

She squeezed her forehead between her thumb and fingers. “Yes. I went to the emergency room last night because of a bad migraine. The baby’s fine.”

“And you need to reschedule your appointment from this morning as soon as possible. You need someone by your side who cares for you and the baby,” Noah insisted, recapturing her hand.

“Noah, please. I know.” She extricated herself from his grasp, and once more that note of weariness crept into her voice.

“Back off,” Rafe wanted to growl at her friend. Couldn’t he see the strain his objections placed on her? Objections that smacked of more than a protective streak. The oversolicitous attention. The way he stared at her as if a bomb could go off in the building and he wouldn’t notice the slightest tremor. The resentful anger directed at Rafe. It all smacked of more than simple friendship. At least on Noah’s part. “Listen, Noah, I appreciate your offer. I really do, but…”

“I agree with Greer,” Ethan chimed in, saving her from rejecting her best friend. “In this case, Mr. Marcel is the best choice. His field is security, and just as importantly, he’s the baby’s father. It’s his right to protect his child.”

“We don’t know that for sure” hovered on the tip of Raphael’s tongue. But the protest stayed there. Maybe because he didn’t want to give Noah the satisfaction. Maybe because it was none of Noah’s or Ethan’s business.

Maybe because uttering the words would’ve seemed like a betrayal to Greer.

Which was ridiculous. Still…he kept quiet.

And when the tension seeped from her body, he was grateful that once in his life he’d followed his friends’ instructions and shut the hell up.

“Why am I not surprised you are in the thick of whatever is going on out here?”

Rafe turned at the wry question. Chayot Grey, one of his three best friends and co-owner of their firm, stood in front of Sara’s desk. In spite of his sarcasm, he really didn’t appear shocked or concerned about finding Rafe in the lobby area with three strangers. Not that he was prone to drama, especially in the office, but of Gabriel Devlin, Malachim Jerrod, Chay, and himself, Rafe was the one voted Most Likely to Be on the Receiving End of a Shotgun. No one knew the ins and outs of him like Gabe, Mal, and Chay.

The four men had been friends since birth—literally. Their mothers—Ana Devlin, Pam Jerrod, Evelyn Grey Sheldon, and Sharon Marcel—had met and befriended one another at Boston Children’s Hospital during workshops and prenatal appointments for their high-risk pregnancies. Despite their different social and economic backgrounds, they remained close. The sons they considered miracles and named after angels had inherited that friendship.

And the bond had been cemented in terror, secrets, and murder.

Twenty years ago, Chay had killed his mother’s boyfriend at the time, Richard Pierce, in self-defense. Rafe, Mal, and Gabe had helped cover up the crime, then sworn to never reveal their secret. The police wouldn’t have believed the wealthy businessman had tried to rape Chay.

The secret had ended up coming to light several months earlier, and they had gone to the police and confessed. Gabe, Mal, and he had ended up pleading as minors and receiving probation. Chay, also convicted as a minor, ended up with probation as well due to the extenuating circumstances since Leah—a private investigator and Gabe’s fiancée—had unearthed proof of Richard’s evil during her investigation.

Whenever Rafe thought of Richard Pierce, he wished he could bury the motherfucker all over again.

Snuffing out the fury to a simmer, he summoned a light tone and smothered all hints of anger from his voice.

“Hey.” He held up his hands in the age-old sign of
it wasn’t me
. “I didn’t do anything. Well,” he peered down at Greer, “maybe I did something.” He expected her furious scowl this time, and she didn’t disappoint. “Chay, you remember Greer Addison, don’t you? The other two are her brother, Ethan, and friend Noah Granger.”

“Nice to meet you.” Chay nodded toward the men and smiled at Greer. “And it’s nice to see you again, Ms. Addison.”

“You, too, Mr. Grey.”

“Please call me Chay.” His hazel eyes returned to Rafe. “Is everything all right?”

Rafe slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants and rocked back on his heels. “Ominous letters. Vandalized car. Surprise pregnancy. You know”—he flipped his hand from side-to-side in a so-so gesture—“meh.”

To his credit, Chay didn’t utter the
WTF
the blasé announcement warranted. Rafe didn’t doubt he’d get a call later once they no longer had an audience.

“Okay,” Chay said blandly. “I guess you’re going to need a few days out of the office then.”

“Just what I was telling Sara. Don’t worry, though. I’ll work from home.” While Mal’s law firm had taken a hit in clients in the wake of their confession, Rafe and Chay’s firm had
increased
in clients. He silently snorted. Guess people figure if they were willing to go to extreme means once, then they were the perfect “by any means necessary” security firm.

A faint smirk played around Chay’s lips. “Oh, I’m not worried about you. Greer on the other hand…” He stretched his arm out, offering her his hand, which she shook. “If you find yourself feeling the slightest bit homicidal, just give me a call.”

“I’ll place you on speed dial,” she muttered, earning a chuckle from Chay. And the sound of it was welcome. With his darkest secret aired for public consumption—including to the mother he’d tried to protect from the truth—he’d become even more quiet, more withdrawn, and private. Even with his three best friends.

It wasn’t fair, damn it. Chay had been through enough, had suffered the hell that no one—especially an innocent child—should. Not that Chay had ever admitted to any of them that Richard’s attempted rape hadn’t been the first time. But he, Gabe, Mal…they’d seen the differences in their best friend weeks before that blood-drenched night. The loss of laughter, joy…innocence. Rage roared through Raphael, and he had to forcibly tamp it down.

Noah moved closer to Greer, blocking out the rest of them and recapturing Rafe’s attention. “Greer, please reconsider,” Noah murmured. Rafe frowned as he cupped her upper arm and lowered his head toward hers. “This isn’t nece—”

“Ethan, I have a guy headed over to your house to install a few more security measures just in case this person returns. While he’s there, Greer’s going to pack up her stuff. You want to meet us there?”