A SEAL's Fantasy (21 page)

“How’d you find me? Some secret SEAL tracking technique?” Lara leaned back in the cracked vinyl booth, laying one hand on her laptop. “Did Castillo install a GPS somewhere?”

“Nah. I just hit all the McDonald’s in walking distance until I found you.”

Lara couldn’t stop her smile as a hint of pleasure made its way through her misery.

“Old habits,” she said with a shrug.

As a vegetarian and a dancer, she’d lived on health food most of her life. So she’d always headed for junk food when she was upset. Phillip had found her at one when she’d run away at thirteen, at another after a disastrous country club dance when her date had dumped her for not putting out.

Lara was pretty sure the only times she and her brother had ever had anything that resembled personal conversations were that one Christmas and at McDonald’s.

Sighing, she slid a fry-covered tray to the middle of the table as a peace offering.

“Why are you here? Did Castillo guilt you or something?”

A fry halfway to his mouth, he gave her a look that was part confusion, part amusement.

“What do I have to feel guilty about?”

“Nothing.” She swiped a fry through the ketchup pool before pointing it at him. “Which is my point. But why else would you be here?”

“Castillo said I owed you some money,” he told her, not looking as though the fact bothered him.

“Oh,” she said, glancing down at the tray again.

It suddenly bothered Lara, though. It’d been one thing to joke about it with Castillo. It was another to sit in front of Phillip feeling like a charity case.

Then again, beggars and choosers were in vastly different categories.

“Hey, I realize it’s not my place. And I’m honestly not even sure why I’m asking....” Phillip grimaced, clearly not happy.

Whether it was the question he was not happy to ask, or simply having to talk with her, Lara didn’t know. Not feeling nearly as friendly anymore, she pulled the tray back to her side of the table.

His lips twitched, so he clearly got the message. But being Phillip, he ignored it. God forbid something like emotions get in the way of him doing what he saw as his duty.

“Believe me, I’m as unhappy asking as you will be answering. But right is right,” he said, giving the table a careful look before he laid his forearms on it and leaned forward. “Are you sure you want to walk out on him? He seems to genuinely care about you. And I know you wouldn’t have stayed here sharing a hotel room if you didn’t care about him.”

“He messed with my life,” she said.

“And?”

Fury flashed in Lara’s chest, so hot it was hard to breathe. She leaned forward so she was halfway across the table and got in her brother’s face.

“I’m not some guy’s project. A fun little sideline to make him feel righteous and manly while he fixes what he sees as the problems with my life. If I want changes in my life, I’m the one making them. I’ll be damned if some guy is going to call my shots.”

Phillip pulled a considering face, then slowly nodded.

Good. Lara leaned back, trying to even out her breathing.

Discussion finished, he could give her the money and this whole farce of a family reunion would be over.

“But here’s the thing...”

Lara dropped her face into her hands and groaned.

“I’m not close to the guy, nor have I spent time with him outside of duty. But I wouldn’t classify Castillo as the kind of person who looks for reasons to feel righteous.” Phillip grimaced again. “If you ask me, he’s already got plenty of those. His ego and his sense of worth are considerable.”

Lara lifted her head just enough to peek over her fingers.

“Are you saying you think Dominic is a conceited know-it-all?” she asked slowly.

Phillip frowned for a second, then nodded.

“Yeah, pretty much. Which is why he clearly doesn’t need, nor would he go looking for, a project of any kind.”

“And yet, despite my saying not to, he brought you to see me. He tries to get me to take a job that’s totally outside my field and that I’d hate. Hell, he’s even offering up fashion advice.” Lara threw her hands in the air. “I’d say that has all the earmarks of a righteous project.”

Phillip pursed his lips.

“I don’t like to give advice—”

“But you’ll make an exception for me,” Lara interrupted.

His mouth quirked. But, of course, he got control before the grin actually appeared and gave a regal nod instead.

How on earth were they actually related?

“I feel as if I owe it to you to make an exception.” He frowned, looking down at his hands. For the first time, Lara noticed the scars crisscrossing the backs of them, as if he’d been cut.

Her gaze traced the bruises on his face, pain tying knots in her belly at the thought of what he’d been through.

“Phillip—”

“As I was saying,” he broke in before she could express her—what? Sympathy? Horror? Regret? She felt them all, but didn’t know how to put them into words. So she lifted her hands to let him know that she’d let it go. God forbid they muddle through some uncomfortable emotional discussion. They might get close or realize they had some inkling of familial feelings.

Which would make Dominic right.

And Lara wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Castillo might be a little arrogant in his belief that he knows best,” Phillip said, making her lips twitch. It was like a pot describing a kettle. “But in this case, I think he had your best interest at heart.”

“You think dragging me here to Coronado, knowing there was no threat, trying to play family matchmaker by reuniting us against our will, then claiming his actions were simply altruistic is having my best interest at heart?”

Phillip’s expression didn’t change for a few seconds, then he sighed. “Okay, if you put it that way, he sounds like an ass.”

Lara snorted, then laughed so hard she could only nod her agreement.

“But ass or not, he really did seem upset when he finished talking with you earlier.”

Laughter fading, Lara took a sip of her iced tea before shrugging.

“Sure, he was upset. How often is Dominic Castillo called out on being wrong?”

“Was he wrong? Or was he simply not telling you what you wanted to hear?”

Ouch.

Lara wasn’t the kind to expect sympathy and hand-holding, but come on—wasn’t a big brother supposed to stick up for his sibling, maybe pat her on the head a few times before gently guiding her to reality?

“I’m just saying that often, truth is relative depending on a person’s perspective. I’m not defending Castillo’s actions. Just suggesting that perhaps you should take a wider, less personal view of the situation.”

But she didn’t want to.

She wanted to be justifiably angry.

After all, fury kept the hurt at bay much better than logic. But, finally, Lara nodded.

Then, unable to let it go, she frowned at her brother.

“So, seriously...is he ever wrong?”

Phillip’s grimace was a work of art.

“Let’s just say that some of his arrogance is well earned.” Phillip paused, then reached into his jacket pocket. Lara’s mouth dropped when he pulled out a wad of cash.

“I understand I owe you. Time and a half, right?” he said, handing her the money.

“I was just needling Castillo,” she protested, pushing the stack of bills back across the table. “I’m not a charity case. I don’t need your money.”

“Take it. If not for me, you’d still have a job, an apartment and most of your belongings.”

“No, if it weren’t for those goons I’d still have that stuff. And none of it is anything I can’t live without.” Like Phillip, she wasn’t a fan of guilt games. She was happy to dump a lot of things at her brother’s feet. Irritation, bafflement, maybe a little disdain. But not guilt. He had enough scars—he wasn’t carrying the blame for that crap, too.

“Take it.” He paused, then with another grimace, added, “Please.”

Lara laughed. She couldn’t help it. He looked so pained saying that precious word.

“Look, it’s not much. Besides, morally you’re entitled to half the Banks estate,” he pointed out. Frowning, she noted that he didn’t refer to them as his parents, either. Interesting.

“Legally I’m entitled to nothing,” she returned with a shrug. She wasn’t bitter; she’d made her choices and had no problem standing by them.

“I said
morally.
” For the first time since they’d reunited that morning, maybe for the first time in her life, Lara saw regret in Phillip’s eyes.

She’d never questioned his moral stand. If there was anyone who had a clear view of right and wrong, and firmly planted himself on the side of good, it would be Phillip.

She frowned, studying his face. The lines were tight in the grooves of his mouth. His eyes, the same green as her own, held secrets. From his capture?

What had they done to him?

Lara had to glance away, knowing the sight of her tears would irritate him.

“Look, take the money. Give me your bank account number and I’ll transfer more. I don’t have enough liquid assets to cover half of the estate until I sell the house. But I can send enough to give you time to decide what you want to do.”

“You’re selling the house?” Lara asked, not really caring but needing to buy time to figure out how she felt.

“Unless you want it?”

“God, no,” she exclaimed so loud the teenagers behind the counter turned to stare.

Phillip’s nod made it clear he felt the exact same way.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, truly curious.

“Does it matter?” At first he calmly returned her impatient stare. Then he shrugged. “I know I wasn’t much of a brother to you when we were growing up. I’m not trying to make up for that. I figure we were a product of our environment and it is what it is. Regrets, lamenting over the past—those are a waste of time.”

Lara blinked, surprised to hear her own attitude coming out of his mouth. She couldn’t imagine that was something genetic—their parents had been the king and queen of using the past as a weapon. Maybe she and Phillip had more in common than she’d imagined.

“Okay,” she slowly agreed, sliding her hand toward the money, but she didn’t put it in her purse. Not yet. “On one condition.”

“You’re putting a condition on accepting money you obviously need and deserve?”

“Yep.” Lara wet her lips, looking down at the tray, empty but for a scattering of salt and a smear of ketchup. She needed a second to reel in her emotions, knowing neither she nor Phillip would be comfortable otherwise.

Finally, she met his patient gaze again.

“I’ll take this, and I’ll help you sort through and settle the estate if you want.”

For a second he looked surprised, then relieved. Then he nodded for her to continue with her terms.

“But in exchange, you can’t tell Castillo where I am.” Agreement clear on his face, he opened his mouth. But before he could say anything, Lara held up one hand. “And you promise to talk to me.”

He shook his head. Not in denial, she could tell, but in confusion. Lara took a deep breath and reached across the table to lay her hands over his.

“We might not really be family, and I doubt we’ll ever be friends,” she said slowly, putting all the sincerity she felt in her eyes. “But maybe we don’t have to be strangers.”

* * *

D
OMINIC WHALED ON
the bag, putting all his weight, frustration and aggravation behind each punch.

“Castillo.”

Jab. Jab. Uppercut, right cross, jab.

“Castillo.”

Fury flew from his fists.

A loud metal snap rang out.

Panting, Dominic stared blankly at the black bag as it flew across the floor, the metal stand heading in the opposite direction.

“Looks like you killed it.”

“Huh?” He looked around, blinking the sweat out of his eyes, then scowled. “Lane. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” Brody nudged the busted punching bag with the toe of his boot. “I lost the draw.”

Dominic frowned. What were he and Masters up to? The only guy smart enough to know better than to pit his ego against Bad Ass’s luck with the cards was Masters—he always insisted they draw straws.

“What’s the deal?”

“You’re moping.” Brody held up one hand before Dominic could tell him where to shove that opinion. “You’ve been moody, pissed at the world and a general pain in the ass for the past month.”

“So?” Dominic snapped, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. Better to see when he punched his friend.

“So when Landon started talking about having his wife chat with you, we figured we’d do you a favor and give you a chance to fix your attitude.”

Dominic winced. Landon’s wife was gorgeous, sweet and seriously fun. None of that made up for the fact that she was a psychologist.

“So because you drew short straw we have to have a heart-to-heart?”

“Sucks, but yeah.”

“I’m heading home on leave tomorrow for my cousin’s wedding. How about I work on my mood while I’m there and we skip this little chat?”

Brody looked as though he was considering it, then shook his head.

“Sorry. Duty is duty.”

“Dammit.” Dominic threw the towel on the bench, glancing around for something else to punch.

“How about I make it easy. I’ll talk, you nod.”

Dominic rolled his eyes.

“You’re having lady problems. Your girl hooked you hard, then she left. Right?”

Shit.

“How d’ya figure?”

“A month ago she was all you could talk about. You were corralling everyone, wanting to do date nights and crap.” Brody shrugged. “Then you stopped talking about her and started bitching about everything else.”

Dominic ground his teeth. The only thing worse than this situation was everyone else knowing about it.

“Fine. I’ll stop bitching.”

“Too late. You triggered the Alexia threat,” Brody said, referring to Landon’s wife. “Now we gotta fix this.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. I was hot for a woman and it didn’t work out. Just as well,” Dominic said with an offhand shrug. “It’s not like we had a chance anyway.”

“Why? She one of your cousins?”

“Funny.” Dominic debated admitting she was worse—Banks’s sister. But figured that’d definitely land him on the shrink’s couch.