Prodigal Son Read online

  She glanced back and waved before heading into the open elevator. Moments later, the doors shut.

  Adrian let out a long breath and turned toward Bartow’s office. He had taken two steps into the room before he saw the body. A quick visual assessment and many years of experience confirmed that Bartow was dead.

  “Careless,” he muttered, “and stupid.” He backed out of the room and took his radio from his belt. “Control, this is Gray. Call 9-1-1. Mr. Bartow has had an accident.”

  Ignoring the flood of questions squawking from the radio, Adrian sat down in Nicki’s chair to wait for the cops.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Where do we go from here?

  Cara glanced at the dashboard clock. They’d left the motel and run through a fast-food drive-through less than half an hour ago, silent except for placing their orders. Neither of them had said a word about what had happened when she’d touched his crystal. And something had happened—both times—and she wasn’t buying his lame explanation.

  Blood sugar, my Aunt Tillie.

  She crushed the empty wrapper from her devoured breakfast sandwich into a ball and dropped it into the bag on her lap. He couldn’t blame blood sugar now, could he? But with the basics taken care of, she wasn’t certain how to broach the subject. Heck, she wasn’t even certain what to ask. She would have thought she’d imagined the whole thing, except for his reaction. He’d looked kind of stunned and at the same time, horrified. Therefore something had happened, but he just wasn’t talking.

  She slid a glance at him. He stared straight ahead, finishing a breakfast burrito one-handed as he pushed the SUV to the speed limit. The badass bounty hunter was back, the lover of this morning gone as if he’d never existed.

  The radio played in the silence between them, and an overly cheerful voice currently speculated on whether the heat index would top one hundred again today. They cut to the news. She struggled to find words to broach her subject.

  “So—” she began.

  Rafe put down his burrito, leaned forward, and turned up the volume. She narrowed her eyes. Was he trying to avoid the conversation?

  The reporter’s sober tones filled the car, and as the story registered in her brain, she swallowed the smart aleck remark that hovered on her lips.

  “… since a sniper targeted millionaire John Montana and his wife Maria as they left the William Walters Charity Ball two nights ago. Police are still investigating the incident.”

  “It was a very close thing,” came another voice. “If Mrs. Montana had not turned to go back into the building right at that moment, she could have been seriously injured, if not killed.”

  “The Montanas have retired to their Sedona estate,” the first voice continued. “A press conference is scheduled for later today. Now over to Patrick Manning for sports.”

  Rafe turned the radio down again. Cara noted the stillness of his features, the way his hands clenched on the wheel. “John Montana. Relative of yours? Rich uncle, maybe?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you said you’re from Arizona.”

  “I am.”

  “So these people aren’t related to you?”

  He didn’t reply.

  She peered at his face. “Rafe?”

  He glanced at her, his blue eyes flinty. “Drop it, Cara.”

  She sank into her seat as he turned his attention back to the road. “I just want to help.”

  “You can’t fix everything.”

  “I don’t want to fix everything!” Frustration burned away any concern about overstepping her boundaries. “If you don’t want to talk to me about that news story, you can talk to me about that so-called good luck charm you wear around your neck and the weird thing that happened back at the motel. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it, and don’t give me any BS about blood sugar. We’re sleeping together, buddy, and that should count for something.”

  “Look, remember back at the motel when we said no expectations? Well, this is what I meant. I’m not a touchy-feely-sharey kind of guy.”

  “You look. In my world, when a woman is intimate with a guy, that means she can know things about him.” She shrugged, trying to mask the hurt. “Sorry, I’m new to casual relationships.”

  He made some kind of growl in the back of his throat, then bit out, “Okay. One question.”

  She weighed the decision, then asked, “Who is John Montana to you?”

  “My father.”

  “Your father?” She drew back in surprise. “But this guy—this family—they’re like American royalty. I was only kidding about the rich-uncle thing.”

  “Guess you weren’t far off.”

  “But if you come from a place like that”—she indicated the radio—“then what are you doing running around Vegas catching bad guys? Falling out with the family?”

  “Something like that. And that’s two questions.”

  “I can’t figure you out, Montana.” She shook her head. “You throw it out there, this thing between us. And there I am trying to decide if I want to go for it. Finally I decide, yeah, go for it, and we go to bed together. But now you treat me like I’m some stranger.”

  “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. Like the two guys tailing us. Finding Danny.”

  She could hear the strain in his voice. “And your mom.”

  He jerked a quick glance at her. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t look so surprised. If someone took a shot at my mom, I’d be off my game, too.” She turned on her side as much as the seat belt would let her. “So are you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Why you’re on the outs with your family. It’s got to be eating at you, especially now.”

  “No.”

  She arched her brows. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s none of your business.”

  She frowned. “I see.”

  “Good, then you’ll stop asking.”

  “Look, I was just curious. For God’s sake, I’m depending on you for survival in this crazy game. Maybe I want to know a little bit more about you.”

  He shot her a sharp glance. “You still don’t trust me?”

  The edge in his voice alerted her that she had hit a serious nerve. “I didn’t say that. I know you live and breathe this kind of stuff, big guy, but I’m scared out of my skivvies.”

  “Nice image.”

  “I’m just saying, it would give me some peace of mind to know a little bit more about my protector.” My lover. “I mean, I would never have guessed you were heir to the Montana millions.”

  He snorted. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know if I’m in the will anymore, so I’m not exactly a catch.”

  “I’m sure you’re still in the will. Just because you chose an unusual profession that your family doesn’t approve of—”

  “That’s not it. I’m not part of that family anymore, Cara. End of story.”

  His gruff words warned her to back off, but she charged ahead anyway. “Of course you’re part of the family. How long has it been since you last saw them?”

  “Five years.”

  “Really? Well, that’s a long time. I’m sure they’ve forgotten or at least forgiven after all this time.”

  His jaw clenched. “No, they haven’t.”

  “How are you so sure of that, especially if you haven’t spoken to them in five years?”

  “I just know.”

  “Oh, come on. Surely when they gave you whatever ultimatum, they didn’t mean for you to completely disappear off the planet.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Cara Mia. They didn’t ask me to leave.” He turned his head, challenge in every nuance of his expression. “I was the one who walked away.”

  He turned his attention back to the road.

  Her lips parted, but words didn’t come. He’d walked away? How could anyone just walk away from his family? Her throat tightened. No matter how many friends you made, no one could replace family. She would give anything to have hers back.
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  The silence stretched between them, broken only by the rumble of the engine and the low melody of the radio.

  When she could finally speak again, she whispered, “Why?”

  “Because I’m a son of a bitch.” He glanced at her. Shrugged. “You should probably know that about me—especially if we’re going to keep sleeping together.”

  * * *

  Cara stayed quiet. She hadn’t responded to his crack, just retreated into her own thoughts. Rafe couldn’t really blame her. Expected it actually. He knew how crazy she was about family, and the revelation that he had left his behind no doubt disappointed her. Maybe even turned her off about continuing their affair. He shoved back the wave of disappointment. Maybe it would be better that way.

  He checked the clock. It was just past noon, and they hadn’t stopped except for a bathroom break a few miles back. His stomach growled. If he was hungry, she probably was, too.

  He glanced over at her. She’d been nursing that huge bottle of water she’d bought at the rest stop, staring out the window at the passing countryside with a pensive look on her face. “You ready to eat?”

  She jumped and dropped the water on the floor. Luckily it was capped, but her face flamed as she unbuckled her seat belt long enough to lean down and scoop up the bottle. Her clothes pulled with the movement, her shorts tightening over her butt, her shirt pulling up to reveal an inch or so of bare skin at her waist. He admired the view and waited for an answer as she sat up, fastened her seat belt again, and flipped her ponytail behind her. “Sorry, I was woolgathering. What did you say?”

  “I said, are you ready to eat?”

  She nodded. “I’m a little hungry, yes.” Her expression, her posture, her tone—everything was as polite as could be.

  He hated it, but what had he been thinking? That they could tear up the sheets and walk away with no regrets? No matter what she said, Cara was a forever girl. She deserved better than a few romps with a guy like him, a guy with the kind of baggage that prevented him from promising more than the current moment.

  “There’s a diner not far from here,” he said. “Good burgers. Does that work for you?”

  “Sounds fine.” She turned her face to the window, ending the conversation.

  They didn’t exchange another word. Not during the ten minute drive. Not when he pulled into the diner’s parking lot. Not when they both climbed out of the SUV. Cara headed toward the restaurant, ponytail bouncing. He flipped the lock on the remote and followed behind her. He shot one appreciative glance at her butt in those khaki shorts, then pulled his gaze away. He couldn’t tell yet if she’d changed her mind about them.

  He caught up to her in time to hold open the door. She gave him a little nod and hurried inside. Rafe followed.

  Hell, if she was this upset about him not spilling his guts about his family, how would she react if she learned about the rest of it? About his abilities? Probably be ticked that he’d kept that a secret, too. She was already asking too many questions about the crystal. He didn’t owe her his life story, any more than she owed him any deep, dark confidences. They just had hot sex between them, and that was it. No commitments, no promises. And he could walk away from sex. Walk away from her.

  She glanced at him as they slid into the booth across from each other. Sunlight glimmered off her honey-colored hair, and her light brown eyes had little flecks of green in them. She gave him a quick smile before dropping her gaze to the menu, biting her lower lip as she considered the choices.

  Her little white teeth sinking into that soft, pink mouth grabbed his attention like a fist around his cock. When she ran her tongue over that lip, he clenched his eyes closed, then opened them and focused on the menu. He didn’t even see the words, just her mouth and all the fantasies he’d conjured over the past couple of days.

  Walk away from her? Sure, he could.

  * * *

  Just when she thought she had a bead on Rafe Montana, he threw her another curveball. She’d thought she could have a fling with the big, bad bounty hunter, then fly back to Jersey with a few hot memories and no regrets. But his revelation that he had walked away from his family had stunned her.

  Dang it, she should have asked about that weird dizziness from the crystal instead. But she hadn’t been able to resist; family was her weakness.

  How could anyone just write off his relatives like that? His family secrets shouldn’t matter, not for an affair that would last only a few days. But she did care, and it did matter.

  Which made her wonder—was she really cut out for her new, freewheeling lifestyle? If she wasn’t, where did that leave her? She had no husband, no children, just a bunch of debt and a struggling company. Maybe not even a home soon.

  And she had Danny.

  She seized the reminder, held on to Danny’s image in her mind. He was why she was here, driving around the desert with this maverick of a skip tracer. She had to find her stepbrother and get him out of whatever jam he’d gotten into. It’s what she’d always done. And as long as she focused on that, her world fell into balance again.

  “So,” she said, breaking miles of silence. “Where are we headed exactly?”

  He paused in the middle of biting into his burger, surprise flickering in those bluer-than-blue eyes. He set down the sandwich. “Toward Flagstaff, since that was where Danny was last seen for certain. From there he went south, and we might be able to find someone who saw him.” He lowered his voice. “I think we should branch off here and head down old Route 66 to Flagstaff.”

  “Route 66? Like the song?” She dipped a fry in ketchup and bit into it.

  “The same.” He stared at her French fry for a moment, then dropped his gaze to his own plate. “I think we’ll hit less traffic, and if our intrepid followers are still on our tails, then we might have a chance of avoiding them.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He nodded and lifted his burger, then paused as she dipped another fry in the ketchup and popped it into her mouth.

  “You okay?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yeah. Fine.” He tore into the burger.

  She shrugged and reached for another fry just as her cell phone rang. She dropped the fry on the plate and dug into her purse.

  Rafe raised his brows at the ring tone. “Ricky Martin? Really?”

  She rolled her eyes and flipped open the phone. “Hey, Maisie.”

  “Cara, where have you been?” Her best friend’s voice vibrated with worry. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “Sorry. I’m in the middle of the desert. Reception is not so good.”

  “The desert! I thought you were in Vegas?”

  “I was. But we’re on the road now, picking up Danny’s trail.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah.” Cara slid a glance at Rafe, who made no effort to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. “I’ve got some help.”

  “What, like a private eye or something?”

  “Or something.”

  “Like…?”

  Cara shook her head, knowing Maisie wouldn’t let it go. “A bounty hunter.”

  “Omigod! Like on TV?”

  “Yup.”

  “You sound weird. He’s right there, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he hot?”

  “Maisie!”

  “Oh, he is, isn’t he?” Maisie let out a little whimper of envy. “You have to tell me every detail.”

  Cara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maisie, is everything okay at work? Because if you just called to chat, we’re in the middle of lunch here.”

  “Okay, okay. Listen, I have some bad news.” She paused. “I don’t think you want an audience when I tell you about this.”

  Cara’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “Seriously, you want to be alone when you hear this.” Maisie dropped her voice. “You said you’re eating lunch. Can you step outside maybe? Just for a few minutes. I don’t think you want Bounty Hunk to see your reaction
to this.”

  “Okay, fine.” She slid out of the booth.

  Rafe grabbed her free arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m just stepping outside for a minute.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Oooh, was that him?” Maisie squealed.

  Cara focused on the determined male in front of her. She’d seen that implacable expression before, but this time she was going to win the battle. “I’ll stand right outside the window so you can see me.” She lowered the phone, pressing it against her chest. “We haven’t seen our fan club since yesterday. I think you can let me have a few minutes of privacy.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I can see that. But we’ve been constant companions for over twenty-four hours. Is it so crazy to want five minutes alone for a private conversation?”

  “Cara, are you there?” Maisie’s muffled voice came from the phone.

  Cara waited, willing Rafe to agree. They’d been in each other’s pockets since yesterday—not to mention each other’s beds. She was a person who needed a certain amount of alone time in order to stay sane. Between all the adventure and the sexual tension humming between them, she was about ready to snap.

  “Please, Rafe.” She slipped her arm from his grip, knowing full well it was only because he let her. “Just for a few minutes. You’ll be watching me.”

  “You’re right.” He narrowed his eyes. “I will be watching. Five minutes, and then I’m coming out there.”

  “Five minutes,” she agreed.

  He curled his fingers into the table. “Clock’s ticking.”

  She nodded. “Be right back.”

  She could practically feel his gaze on her as she walked away. It made her feel safe and tingly all at once. She lifted her phone to her ear as she neared the door. “Maisie, you still there?”

  “Wow, all I could hear of his voice was that deep rumbling.” Maisie let out a little sigh. “Leave it to you to find a sexy bounty hunter in the middle of the desert.”

  “I never said he was sexy.”

  “Hon, you didn’t have to. Anyway … let me know when you’re outside.”

  “Heading out there now.” She pushed open the glass door and started down the walkway toward the window where Rafe sat. “Maisie, you’re scaring me. What happened? Did my condo burn down or something?”