The Billionaire Next Door (21 page)

“Um…your father’s house, I guess. In South Boston.”

The man’s tone turned incredulous. “He’s still staying there? ”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Wow.” There was another pause. “Tell him I’ll stop over after the game.”

“I’ll pass on the message. Oh, and he wanted you to call Mick and let him know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, okay. Wait, who are you?”

“I live in the apartment below. I’m kind of taking care of him. My name’s Lizzie Bond.”

“Well, I appreciate your making the effort, especially because I’ll bet you’ve got to tie him down to keep him still. That brother of mine never slows up.”

“Well, he’s slowed up now. Has been since last night.”

“Poor bastard. How bad is he?”

“You can see for yourself. When you come by, just knock on the downstairs door. I’ll be here, and considering how he’s faring, so will he.”

“I’ll do that. And thanks again for watching over him.”

As she hung up, she heard a noise from the bedroom and went down the hall. Sean was writhing on the bed, his big body twisting in the sheets, his brows drawn tight. He made a noise deep in his throat, a kind of strangled protest, then shook his head back and forth on the pillow.

She went over and touched his shoulder. “Sean?”

He woke up on a full recoil, his hands shielding his face as if he were about to be struck. In a voice that didn’t sound like his at all, he said, “Please…no.”

They’d done this before. The night of the storm.

“Sean?” she said gently, though she was thoroughly creeped out and worried about him. “Wake up. You’re just dreaming.”

“Mac?”

She frowned. “No, it’s me. Lizzie.”

He blinked a number of times, then sank back down into the pillows and closed his eyes. “Lizzie? Oh…yeah…yeah, I know. Sorry.”

She stayed over the bed, the sound of his voice ringing in her mind. Mac was his other brother, right? And what had he been so afraid of? She had a feeling the dream was a repeater.

“Sean?” When he made an affirming noise, she said, “I’m going to go out for a little while, if you’re okay?”

“I should probably leave, too. Not fair. Take up all your space.” He started to push himself up, moving slowly as if he had an unbalanced load on his neck. Or maybe a ticking bomb.

“No, Sean. I want you to stay.” The way he collapsed back down told her just how weak he was. “Listen, I have my cell with me and I’ve left the number by the phone, okay?”

“Don’t want you to have to nurse me. ’Nough of that on your day job.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She truly didn’t. Although she was sorry he felt bad, she was glad he was in her bed, his hair dark against her pillows, his heavy shoulders filling out her blankets and covers. In her room, between her sheets, he was safe and she could care for him and he would be far more comfortable than upstairs on that couch he insisted on using.

“Thank you,” he said in a garbled voice. “Once again.”

Before she left, she had a consuming urge to kiss him on the forehead, but she resisted. “I’ll be back.”

She went out the front door a couple of minutes later and walked the long distance to the nearest T-stop. In the back pocket of her jeans was a list of open houses for apartments in Southie, Charlestown and Cambridge. She figured it was going to take a while to see them all.

She was right. And the prospects were bleak.

After three hours of hoofing it up and down stairs and taking the T around, she had a sense of what she could afford and it was not a lot. Prices had skyrocketed in the two years since she’d last been looking, and for what she was paying now, her only options were cramped studios in buildings that were kind of run down. Her only other choice was to look even farther out of Boston proper, to Watertown, for instance, but then getting to work would be more of a hassle.

On her way back home on the T, she called the service station and had to curse to herself. Her car was going to need a thousand dollars’ worth of work. Evidently, it wasn’t just the starter this time.

As the T trundled along and sank underground, she looked out and saw nothing but a rhythmic pattern of tunnel lights, some of which had burned out.

She really needed one of those job applications to come through. Fast.

For Sean, the migraine’s pain started to recede about 250 years after it had started. Or maybe it was twenty five minutes. Hard to tell. Time had warped, becoming like cloth that was bunched up and wrinkled. Maybe if he made an effort he could smooth it out and count the hours. But he really didn’t care that much.

He rolled over onto his side and cracked an eyelid.

He was still in Lizzie’s bed. Hell, he’d taken it over, lying in the middle as if he owned the damn thing. Man, bad enough to have been sick in front of her, but to have all but kicked her out of her own room? That was just awful.

He gingerly pushed himself onto his elbows and gave his head a moment to adjust to the altitude. Then he looked at the clock. It said nine and he was pretty sure that was nine at night. Yeah…no slits of sunlight through the drapes. Definitely nighttime.

He moved himself to the side of the bed slowly, feeling as if there were an anvil on the left side of his head. Still, the dull pain was a big improvement over the ax blade that had been there before.

As his feet hit the floor, he thought, okay, he could handle upright. And it was time to plug back into the real world. He needed to call Mick and get a status report on Condi-Foods. Had to check in with his office—

Whoa. The mere thought of doing either of those things brought the ax back. As his head started to pound again, he thought maybe he and his BlackBerry would stay estranged for a little longer.

Throwing the thoughts of work out the window, he concentrated on getting to the bedroom door in one piece. When that mission was accomplished, he opened the thing and followed the muted tapping of computer keys out to the living room.

“Hi.”

Lizzie twisted around in the armchair by the window. “Hello!”

“I think I’m back in the land of the living.”

“So you are. How’s the head?”

“Still attached. Not real clear on whether that’s a good thing, but at least I’m vertical.”

“Good. Would you like something to eat?”

“I was thinking I’d get out of your hair, actually.”

“Oh. Well, you weren’t really in it. You’ve been a very quiet patient.”

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m going to strip the bed. You got fresh sheets?”

“Don’t worry about that. Besides, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m okay. Can’t wait to have a shower though.”

“Take one here if you want.”

“No, thanks. I’ve intruded enough.” With his energy already flagging, he glanced at the front door and wondered how he was going to make it to the second floor. But that wasn’t what was really on his mind. “Ah hell, Lizzie, I’ve ruined your weekend.”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have done anything differently.” She nodded at the computer. “Right now I’m all about the job search.”

“Find anything?”

She shrugged. “A few. By the way, your brother said he was coming by, but I don’t know how late.”

Sean stopped breathing. “Here? He’s coming here? ”

“Yes.” Lizzie frowned. “Is that bad? He’s worried about you.”

“No. It’s just—” Sean cut himself off, thinking that if Billy was coming over, he didn’t want his brother going upstairs. “You know what? I think I will shower down here, if you don’t mind. And if he comes, would you feel comfortable just letting him in? He’s a good guy. He only looks like a thug.”

“Of course. Wait, what exactly does he look like? I don’t watch football on TV.”

“He’s six-five, about 260 pounds. His hair’s blond like my mother’s was and he’s got a jaw like a slab of rock.”

“Sounds handsome.”

In a flash, a good old-fashioned shot of jealous-for-no-damned-good-reason went through Sean’s chest. Handsome?

“Ah, yeah, I guess he is,” Sean muttered. Actually, his brother was a total looker and women always loved the guy. The bastard.

“Well, I’ll watch out for him.”

Sean nodded and headed for the bathroom, hoping to get in and out of it fast. And not just because he didn’t want to keep his little brother waiting.

There was no reason to have Billy working out his charm on Lizzie.

Within moments of the shower starting, Lizzie heard the house’s front doorbell ring.

She got up and went to the blinds. Whoa… There was a Greek god out on the porch: Billy O’Banyon just about defined jock handsome in his blue jeans and his white muscle shirt and his blond hair.

Yeah…wow. Check out those tattooed biceps.

Although it was funny. In spite of his obvious attributes, he couldn’t hold a candle to Sean in her eyes.

She went out into the hall and opened the duplex’s front door. “Hi, you must be Billy?”

The Adonis smiled, showing a row of white, even teeth. “I am. And you’re Lizzie?” As she nodded, he stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you. How’s the patient?”

“Up and around. In the shower, actually.” She stepped back and swept her arm toward her apartment. “He’ll be right out.”

When Billy stepped into the hallway, his demeanor changed completely. As his eyes drifted up the stairs, his face and his body stiffened, his charisma draining out of him.

He didn’t move. Just stood there fixated.

“Um…he’s in my shower,” she prompted quietly.

“W-w-w-w.” Billy shook his head. “I mean, what?”

“Sean…He’s in my place.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Billy’s eyes didn’t leave the stairs. “H-how.” More with the head shaking, as if he was trying to unstick his mouth. “H-h-how…Damnit, how is he?”

“Better. Much better.”

“Good.” Billy’s massive chest expanded and then he looked at her. All at once, his face settled into a flashing smile that had about as much depth as water spilled on a counter. “I’m glad to hear it. He give you much trouble?”

“No.” As Billy went into her apartment, she asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I hydrated before I came, but thanks.” He looked around. “Nice place. Been here long?”

“Two years.”

“Nice.”

Standard social conversation, she thought, and she appreciated him making the effort, but she wished she could ask his what was wrong. The man who was standing in her living room was not the guy she’d opened the door to.

Down the hall, the shower shut off and there was the sound of a towel flapping around.