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“In fact, if you don’t come with me willingly,” Heath said, that brow of his raised again. “I might just toss you over my shoulder and haul your ass back to the apartment anyway.”
“Try it and I’ll scream so fast it’ll make your head spin.” Aileen crossed her arms, not giving an inch. “In fact, please try it. You can sit your butt in jail and explain to the cops why you manhandled and kidnapped an innocent woman.” Then, she hit him where she imagined it would hurt him most—right in the reputation. “Though I suppose you’re due for another run on the tabloid covers by now, aren’t you? Seeing as how the story about you and your ex-fiancée has cooled off. Bet that must’ve stung, huh? Having her run off with some actor right before the wedding, then coming home again only to fall in love with your buddy instead. Sounds like she and Daveed Rafik are deliriously happy these days. Man, that’s got to sting the old ego, eh?”
Heath said something under his breath she didn’t catch, then leaned forward and slipped the driver an extra fifty to get them back to her apartment ASAP.
3
“Where are you going?” Heath asked, bewildered as Aileen walked right past her apartment door and down the hall to the next-door neighbors’ place. Her snarky comments in the cab had left him on edge. He couldn’t have given two shits about his break-up with Mel. That had all been for show anyway. No. His discombobulation was far more about that kiss on the sidewalk in front of the senator’s SUV. Talk about a horrible mistake. He should’ve kept his hands and his lips to himself as he’d intended. Still, she’d got in a couple of low blows, so he couldn’t resist getting a jab in himself. “Been gone so long you forget which one’s yours?”
Aileen turned slightly and glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him the facial-expression equivalent of a middle finger. God, how could two siblings who’d grown up so close be so different personality-wise? Sure, Murphy had been a bit grumpy and a pain in his ass the past few weeks, but considering his little sister had gone missing, the guys cut him some slack. Normally Murphy was the most laid-back, affable guy Heath knew.
His sister, on the other hand, gave a whole new meaning to the term smartass.
Instead of walking back to where he was waiting by her door, Aileen knocked on the neighbors’ apartment then gave him a sickly-sweet smile meant to convey a hearty “fuck you.” Then the neighbors answered and Aileen’s smile transformed into genuine joy. An older woman, early seventies, leaned out and pulled Aileen into a tight bear hug.
“Oh my gosh, honey,” the woman said in a distinctly New York accent. “You have no idea how worried we’ve been. How are you? Where have you been hiding?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been working on a story. Undercover.”
Heath frowned. Was that a tearful sniffle he heard in Aileen’s voice? Exactly who were these people and why would Aileen go straight to them to let them know she was okay before she even alerted her own flesh and blood brother?
Mind swirling with questions, Heath slowly approached the two ladies. Murphy had waited this long for news of his sister, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. As he got closer, though, the older woman looked up and locked gazes with him. She pulled Aileen tight to her side in a show of maternal protection and scowled. The older woman gave him a quick once-over then side-eyed Aileen. “Who’s he?”
Aileen looked at Heath with both anger and resignation. “He’s a friend of my brother’s.”
“Ah. Pretty boy, ain’t he?” The older woman snorted. “Never seen your Murphy wearing duds like that around. Jeez, that coat alone could pay our rent for a year.”
Honestly, Heath had had this winter coat for years. It was the first purchase he’d made after his discharge from the military. And contrary to what everyone seemed to think about his expensive taste, it wasn’t about the money. It was about the quality. Well-made things lasted longer. They made good fiscal sense. That’s why he was willing to pay a bit more for something, knowing he’d get years of wear out of it. Designer labels and couture tailors meant nothing if the product itself was crap. And he might’ve inherited his wealth from his family, but he sure as hell didn’t flaunt it like they did, nor did he intend to blow through it like water on frivolous expenses. Every dollar he spent was because it meant something to him or because it would benefit a cause he supported, like BrightStart, the tech company he’d founded. The company was focused on bringing more STEM education to women, minorities, and other underprivileged groups. In Heath’s opinion, wealth should empower and enrich people, not be hoarded stingily—a philosophy his father didn’t share, unfortunately.
Aileen tapped the toe of her shiny black Santa boot on the hardwood floor of the hallway, her gaze narrowed and her expression skeptical. Then that skepticism morphed into determination as she seemed to come to a decision about things. Quick as a flash, she turned to the older woman and gave her another brilliant smile. “Can we come in for a minute?”
“Of course, honey. You’re always welcome in our home,” the older woman said, gesturing Aileen into the apartment. Her friendly smile shifted to a frown as Heath sidled past her. So much for a warm welcome where he was concerned.
Still, the pure joy on Aileen’s face had Heath’s heart pinching and his lungs aching. Aileen as she’d been outside, all prickly and pissed off, was a sight to behold. Aileen now, all happy and caring and relaxed, was… well… breathtaking.
Perplexed by his reactions, he took a look around the apartment while the older woman closed the door behind them. The layout of the place was a mirror image of Aileen’s next door, a small studio loft with a separate bathroom and neat sections divided off by book shelves or furniture or Asian paper screens. Soft golden light from several lamps bathed the area and the succulent scents of roasted garlic and melted cheese drifted through the air. Heath’s stomach growled. He’d not eaten all day. Too busy tracking the senator, then later, Aileen.
In the living room space sat an older man in baggy trousers and a mustard-yellow sweater vest. His threadbare recliner faced a TV flickering with images from some game show. Aileen bent to kiss the old guy’s cheek and he reached up to pat her hair.
“Glad you’re back, snookie,” the older man said, his gaze never leaving his program. “We’ve been worried about you.”
“Thanks, Pops.” Aileen stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her, not meeting Heath’s gaze. “These are the MacLeans. Fiona and Devon. They pretty much adopted me when I first moved to New York to start my journalism career. Fiona and Devon, this is Heath Goldwin, III.”
Heath could’ve done without her throwing out his whole title. Not that he was embarrassed of his heritage, but sometimes it made people act weird around him once they knew he was part of an old-money, illustrious family.
Fiona exhaled slow then shrugged one shoulder, looking completely unimpressed. “Well, you can’t help your family, can you?” She reached over to shake his hand. “I think I’ve seen you around here before, with Aileen’s brother. Did you two serve together in the military?”
“Yes, ma’am. Two tours in the Middle East. I’m retired from duty now.”
“Thank you for your service, son.” This came from Devon, who still seemed completely absorbed in his show, some trivia game Heath had never seen. Truth was, he rarely had time these days to just sit and do nothing. A commercial came on and Devon finally looked up and met Heath’s gaze, his eyes sharp and watchful despite his advanced age. “I did a couple tours myself in Korea. War is hell, ain’t it?”
“Yes sir, it is. What branch were you in?”
“Air Force. Mechanic,” Devon said.
“Ah. Murphy and I served together in the Navy. That’s how we met actually. War has a tendency to bond people.”
“Got that right.” The older man seemed to take stock of Heath before finally pointing to an arm chair across from him. “Take a seat, son. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
