Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) (20 page)

Chapter 34

Trenton

Since Madison needs to be debriefed after we get home, Madrigal allows the FBI to question her. A half hour later after Madrigal arranges for a meal to be brought to her, she bundles Madison upstairs for a much-needed hot bath and sleep.

Finally, the house quiets. After the harried hours of the night before, it’s a welcome change. Once I make sure Madrigal’s asleep, I head to Hunter’s room. He offered to move in, claiming he could provide more effective protection if he was available round the clock. Madrigal was more than happy to agree. I can’t blame her. Not with the three-ring circus going on outside the main gate to the estate. Between Hunter and me, we can play interference for her.

I knock on the door to his room.

“Come in.”

“Did I disturb you?” I ask, stepping in. He’s lounging on the bed, reading something on his phone.

“Not at all,” he says, sitting up. “I’m too wired to sleep. I called in an extra operative to replace Alicia. She’ll be here at eight. She doesn’t ride horses, so Madison will need to remain indoors.”

“I don’t think she’ll object. At least for a day or two.”

“I’ll find someone else to accompany her. Shouldn’t take longer than that.”

I tuck my hands into my pockets and fix my gaze on him. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”

“About?”

“Your real identity.”

Staring down at the floor, he clutches the side of the bed so hard his knuckles turn white. “I can’t. Lives other than mine are at stake. If I told you, I’d put them in danger.”

“Would it help if I told you I already know?”

His head comes up at that. “You can’t possibly.”

“You think I don’t know my own brother?”

“I’m not,” he chokes out.

“Don’t.” I hold up a hand to stop him. “You had work done on your face. Probably on your body as well. More than likely, the authorities put out the story that you died to save you. And then they relocated you somewhere. Maybe to another state. How am I doing so far?”

His lips quirk. “You always were a smart son of a bitch.”

“We weren’t together that long.”

He comes to his feet. “Six years. But I always remembered you. I never forgot.”

“Neither did I.” I grab him by the neck, pull him toward me as hot tears roll down my cheeks.

As he squeezes me back and tucks his head against my neck, I can feel the hot moisture on his face. “You can’t tell anybody, not even Madrigal.”

“I won’t.”

Coming upright again, he wipes his face. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” I cup his cheek. Last time I saw him, he was six. And now he’s a grown man with whiskers on his face. “Will I find out the truth one day?”

“Maybe when things clear up.”

“You’re not just a bodyguard, are you?”

All I get is silence.

“Fine. If you ever need anything, anything at all, let me know. I have money, millions.”

“How’d you do that?”

“Playing the stock market. I have Mitch to thank for that.”

His face takes on a dark tone.

“Does Mitch have anything to do with whatever you’re investigating?”

“I can’t talk about it,” he says.

“Damn.” Figures that I just find my brother and he’s investigating Mitch, or at least it seems like he is.

“Well, I better go to bed. For what remains of the night anyway.”

“Wait. Cristina Sanchez?”

“What about her?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not interested in her, are you?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

I squint my eyes. “Okay. Well, good-night.” I hug him again.

“Night.”

I jump in the shower before climbing into bed with Madrigal. When I do, she rolls to my side. “Where were you?”

“Talking to Ree—Hunter.”

“About?”

“Getting his take on things.”

“What things?”

“What Holcomb blurted out about making you and Madison forget, about killing patients. I asked him to investigate.” I’ll have to remember to talk to him about it in the morning.

“Charlie’s investigating as well. We’ll put both of them on the job. See what they can find out.”

“Yes, but that’s for tomorrow and the day beyond. Let’s go to sleep. A new day’s dawning. I’d like to get at least some rest.”

But the hours roll by with thoughts of my brother and Mitch. Fuck. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, something else may blindside me as far as Mitch’s concerned. I’ve put it off as long as possible. But I can’t. Not anymore. I’ll have to investigate Mitch. See what he’s been up to. Only then will I get to the truth.

Chapter 35

Madrigal

“I’m so happy to see you!” I exclaim as soon as Cristina walks through the door with Hunter trailing after her. “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful,” she says, hugging me back. “The same can’t be said for the ride here.”

“Yeah, rush-hour traffic on Route 50 can be a bear. Take a load off and freshen up. Cocktails will be served in half an hour and dinner in an hour.”

“Great. I’ll just take a quick shower.”

“You want me to take your suitcase up to your room, Ms. Sanchez?”

She scrunches up her face. “Honestly, Hunter, you can call me Cristina.”

Stone-faced, he replies, “Very well.”

“Yes, please. I’ll see you later,
tesoro
.” She climbs the stairs, swishing her rump all the way. She’s pissed. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know it has something to do with Hunter.

What’s going on between those two? I never did get the story about why it took them so long to get here after she walked out on Scott. They should have beaten Steele and me back to the house. Knowing Cristina, she’ll spill the beans sooner or later. She never could keep the deets about her dealings with men to herself.

A door opens and closes upstairs, but Hunter does not return. Well, well, well. I turn with a grin on my face and bump into Steele. “Oops.”

“What put that smile on your face?”

“Nothing.” I throw my arms around his neck. “You’re home.”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad.” Pulling him down to me, I suckle his lip. “Mmm. You taste good.”

“Not in front of the children, dear.”

“Good evening, Trenton,” Madison says, passing us by.

“Good evening.”

Without a glance back, she heads for the kitchen, probably in need of a snack before dinner.

“She seems to be doing well,” he says.

“Yes. Amazing, given everything she’s gone through.”

“I told you she’s strong and resilient,” Steele says.

“And happy. Philippe’s coming to dinner.”

“Do I have time for a quick shower?”

“Of course.” He wraps an arm around me, and together we climb the stairs. As we pass Cristina’s room, the sounds of an argument reach us.

“Cristina’s back?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Who’s in there with her?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“Hunter?”

“Yep. There’s something going on between those two.”

“I didn’t think she was his type—or he hers, for that matter. I thought she liked her men more sophisticated.”

“So did I, but apparently she’s developed a liking for a more primitive male.”

A harried-looking Hunter opens the door and steps out. His eyes widen when he spots us. “Good evening.”

Trying hard to keep from laughing, Steele asks, “Anything wrong?”

“No. Nothing,” he says, closing the door. “Why do you ask?”

Something smashes against the wood. Oh, dear. I hope it’s not one of the antiques.

“No particular reason,” Steele says.

“Will you join us for dinner, Hunter?” I ask, trying to ignore the obvious tension in the air.

“Are you sure that’s for the best?” he asks.

“Yes, I do. I’d like to thank you for the help you provided during the rescue. I don’t think of you as hired help anymore, but as a friend.”

“Thank you for that.” He nods. “Yes, I’d love to join you for dinner.”

“Great. Cocktails in”—I glance at my watch—“twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be there.” And then he proceeds down the hall to the stairs, where he disappears from sight.

“Well, I’d say there’s definitely something going on between those two.”

“Great bit of deduction, Mr. Steele. No wonder you have such a great reputation.”

“Are you sassing me?”

“No,” I say innocently.

“Yes, you are.”

He gets this spark in his eyes, and I run toward our bedroom.

I hold up my hands, trying to keep him back. Not that it does any good when he pulls me against him. “You can’t start anything. We don’t have time. Besides, I’m all dressed, and I don’t want you to muss me up.”

“Fine,” he says, unknotting his tie and tossing it on the bed. “But after dinner, there will be plenty of mussing up.”

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Steele.”

“So how was France, Philippe?”

“Fine. We visited our family in Paris and Lorraine.”

“I want to go to Paris someday,” Madison exclaims.

Of course she does. “After you graduate from high school next year, we’ll go for the summer,” I say.

“So how are things with you, Cristina?” Steele asks.

“I was offered a permanent job with the Department of Justice.”

“You were?” I ask. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I just found out. My boss e-mailed me. It’s the informal offer. The formal one will come in the mail. I hope you don’t mind that I gave him this address.”

“Of course I don’t mind, silly.” I pat her hand.

“Which division?” Steele asks.

“White collar.”

“What crimes are those?” Madison asks. She seems to be getting her curiosity back. Maybe she’ll turn into a journalist after all.

“Fraud committed by business and government professionals, ranging from insurance to corporate to financial institutions to securities and commodities.”

“Bor-ing,” Madison says singsong-style.

“Maddy, hush,” I command.

“Actually, there’s nothing boring about it,” Cristina says. “It requires a great deal of investigation. Some people abuse their power and steal money from companies, investors, employees. Millions of dollars are usually involved. It’s the Department of Justice’s responsibility to prosecute them.”

“What about your plans to practice in Florida?” Hunter asks. “Isn’t that why you took the Florida bar?”

“Like I told you, I did that to keep my options open, but I’d prefer to work here in DC at the DOJ.”

By the look in her eye, Cristina doesn’t wish to pursue the subject. Maybe after a visit with her family, she’s rethinking working at the DOJ, or maybe Scott’s betrayal has soured her on DC. Taking the hint, Hunter, who’s gazing at her with regret and hunger, drops the discussion.

After dinner, Maddy asks permission to stroll through the garden with Philippe. Clearly, she wants to be alone with him. But since the purpose of his visit is for us to become acquainted with him, I offer an alternate plan. “How about we go bowling?”

“Bowling?” Trenton asks.

“That’s a bit too public, Madrigal,” Hunter says.

“Not really. We have a bowling alley in the basement. Gramps built it a million years ago. Remember, Maddy?”

Maddy groans. “That thing is hideous. It was built in the sixties.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” I say.

After dessert, I lead the five of them down to “Lucky Strike.” Like everything else in the house, the place has been kept in good condition. The lights work, and so does the bowling lane.

“There’s only the one, so we’ll need to take turns.” When I flip a couple of switches, lights flash at the end of the lane, and Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog” comes on over the speakers.

Madison makes a face while Cristina claps her hands. “This is totally rad.”

I dig up the old scoring supplies from beneath the cabinet on the far side of the room. The sheets are a trifle musty, but the tiny pencils are still sharp.

“On rainy nights and in the winter, Gramps used to bring us down here to bowl.” He did have his nice moments, although they were few and far in between.

I decree that the women choose their partners. Rather than go for the obvious choice, I pick Philippe. Maddy reciprocates by taking Steele, which leaves Hunter and Cristina to partner up. We spend the next two hours bowling strikes, spares, and gutter balls. Surprisingly, Philippe’s a natural, Hunter’s not.

“I never played,” he says in his defense.

“You’re good at other things, Hunter,” I say.

“Yeah, he is,” Cristina pipes up.

The look Hunter sends her would incinerate entire villages.

At the end of the evening, Philippe and I are declared the winners, and we retire upstairs for a nightcap. Well, the adults have cocktails, except for Hunter, who’s on duty. Philippe and Maddy enjoy glasses of sweet tea.

When it’s time for Philippe to leave, I suggest Maddy walk him to his car. They’ll be watched the entire time by Hunter, but at least it will give them a semblance of privacy.

“Well, I better turn in. It’s been a long day,” Cristina says, yawning.

“What about you?” Steele says as soon as she leaves. “Are you tired?”

“Not really, but I am a little sore from the bowling.” I rub my hip.

“How about a massage?”

“You read my mind.”