Burned Hearts (28 page)

Finding him too tempting by far, I closed the gap between us and splayed my hands over his abdomen. “If I recall correctly, you planned to do wicked things to me this evening.”

His head dipped and his mouth sealed with mine. I twined my arms around his neck and pressed my body to his, loving the strength, the heat that surrounded me. My fingers curled in his lush locks. An inferno instantly ignited within me.

Dane palmed my ass and held me to him, his thigh wedged between my parted legs, hitching my skirt and rubbing insistently, making me burn brighter. When we came up for air, I shifted my hands and slipped the rest of the buttons on his shirt through their small holes. My lips skimmed along his throat, down to his chest.

I tongued his nipple and muttered our new favorite words. “Let's take this into the bedroom.”

“Definitely.”

He turned back to the lamp on my desk to switch it off but paused. His gaze swept over the web once more. Mine followed.

He stared at the photo of his father and Ethan that I'd retacked to the wall.

“What's bothering you?” I asked.

Shaking his head, he said, “Nothing.” He turned off the light and reached for me.

I sidestepped him and flipped the switch back on. “Something.”

Dane's devilishly handsome face darkened. “Now's not really the time—”

“Now is always the time,” I insisted. “So nothing festers.” I gave him a hard look, despite the desire coursing through me. The urge to say to hell with it all and let him take me to bed. I knew better. I couldn't get past ominous thoughts when they lingered between us. Not anymore. That was our new reality. “Spill.”

His mouth quirked up on one side. “So demanding.”

“Yes.” I didn't back down.

“Fine.” He didn't appear pleased that I'd diverted our intimate rendezvous, but clearly something weighed on his mind. He crossed to the webbing and pointed at the photo we'd both eyed days before. The one of Ethan and his father. “This isn't right.”

“You don't know that.”

“True.” He blew out a long breath. “But you can feel it, too. Even if just subconsciously. Otherwise, you wouldn't have added this printout to the puzzle.”

With a shrug, I told him, “I've considered various angles. You and I both know there's a reasonable explanation.”

Dane turned away. Started to pace. Never a good sign.

I wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to dig deeper, was drained emotionally from the ordeal with Mikaela. Yet when Dane and I encountered something to piece together, neither of us could let it drop without investigating all possibilities.

So I said, “If Ethan and your father were at a summit together and were standing next to each other on a stage, you know they would have been introduced to each other. They'd shake hands, exchange a few pleasantries, that sort of thing.”

“That'd be my guess.”

“For that matter,” I continued, my mind starting to whirl. “They were probably at cocktail receptions or dinners together during that conference. They'd likely swap business cards, right? And what about the fact that your dad was wealthy and influential? A billionaire? No one can overlook all of that. Ethan would certainly remember him.”

Dane folded his arms across his massive chest.

I continued, the momentum building. “People don't just ‘forget' meeting someone of that financial stature. And what about your family name? It's not like Bax would slip one's mind. I mean—”

“Ari, stop.” He was already way ahead of me. I saw it in his eyes.

But I gave him one more thought to ponder. “Where was Amano? Did he work for your father at that point?”

“In 1983?” Dane thought about it. Nodded. “He was in the family employ, but that was the year he spent in Minsk because both his mother and father had come down with pneumonia and neither was expected to survive. Nor did they.”

“Minsk?” I resisted the urge to say,
It figures.
Our exotic ninja was from Russia? I didn't think Amano was a Russian name. Had never actually looked up the origin. Which made me suddenly burn with curiosity to do so. Especially since I'd always considered there was a hint of Japanese in the man. Perhaps that was just because of his impressive karate skills?

Mr. Miyagi had nothing on Amano.

Though I couldn't fathom him having too strong of an Asian background, mostly due to his intimidating size.

I continued to stare at the wall, wondering why this web only got stickier. How was I supposed to deconstruct the intricacies when the threads grew of their own accord, mysteriously weaving together to hint at more untold stories and intriguing, sometimes suspicious, connections?

With a shake of my head because I wasn't able to answer my own question, I said, “You think Amano
didn't
know Ethan back in the day?”

“It would have come up long before now.”

“True.” I gnawed my bottom lip a moment, then added, “Maybe.” I carefully ventured, “You didn't know Ethan had met your father before now. How is that possible? Why wouldn't he have mentioned it when you started at Harvard? You had him freshman year, right? I can't understand why he didn't take one look at the student roster and say, ‘Hey, a familiar name.'”

Dane held up a finger to stall me. He poured a scotch for himself. Offered me a bottle of FIJI that I bypassed. I'd nearly drowned myself with sparkling water all night long.

“Guess I'm not the only one who finds this completely mind-boggling,” I mused.

“It makes no sense,” he agreed. Then he gave me a contemplative look. “You're absolutely right. How could there not have been a click in Ethan's mind when he heard my surname?”

“It is kind of unique.” Like the man himself.

He said, “There'd never been even the tiniest flicker of recognition in his eyes. Not a hint. And he'd spent that first year and a half courting me the way professors do with favored students.” He drained his tumbler and splashed in more scotch.

“I wouldn't really know. I'm not a financial whiz or a rocket scientist.”

He grinned. “You're plenty smart. And resourceful.”

“I do like complicated puzzles. Now, you were saying about Ethan…?”

“Right. So he spent the first few semesters dazzling me with his own economics knowledge. We attended faculty-student networking functions, lectures, global presentations. He seemed to have no idea who I was, and that
did
make sense, because I'd wiped the slate clean on the Internet, as far as my family was concerned.”

“Which is a mind trip unto itself.”

“With Amano's help and contributions to the right organizations I made sure I wasn't the least bit relevant on the Web, aside from a few approved articles from the
Wall Street Journal
. I'd covered my tracks. By the time I'd arrived at Harvard, I was just a smart, rich kid who'd broken the code to get in when he had no family connections and no real history to draw upon.”

“Your father didn't go to Harvard?”

“No, he was a Yale man.”

I did a little pacing of my own. “That alone would keep the Board from letting you in, I'd think.”

He chuckled. “It doesn't exactly work that way. Anyway, since my parents died when I was just a month old, there wasn't any family obligation, connection, funding, whatever. Amano and Aunt Lara were cognizant of how to ensure I got into the right schools, but they were more practical about it than political.”

“Meaning they didn't suck up?”

“Exactly. GPA, student body standing, extracurricular activities, volunteering—those were crucial and I focused on them. Naturally, I had the money to buy my way in, but then again, so do a lot of kids.”

“What made you stand out?” I had to ask.

“From my understanding, it was the volunteering and charitable donations. I was able to devote free hours not related to school activities to community service. Ivy League universities want well-rounded, socially conscientious students. The difficulty in that affects students who can't keep up their GPA, activities, and fund-raising efforts for tuition all at the same time. I'm not a fan of the system, but it's a respected institution regardless.”

“And you did what was required of you. That's admirable, Dane.”

He seemed to grind over this. “If Amsel wants Harvard, I don't know how I feel about that.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “You want our kid to go to one of the best universities, right? And wouldn't you advocate from the get-go that he follow your educational path? Continue your Harvard legacy?”

“What if Stanford offers him a football scholarship or Duke wants him on their basketball team? Am I going to say, ‘No, you have to go to Harvard because that's where I went'?”

“Point taken.” And I acknowledged it as a selfless one on Dane's part. “But let's put that aside for the moment. It'll be at least sixteen or seventeen years before he goes to college, if he's on the Dane Bax schedule. Though chances are, we'll end up with a genius who pushes a decision at twelve.” I had no doubt our son would be absurdly ambitious. Though I added, “That's currently neither here nor there.”

Not that a hint of panic didn't creep in on me. I'd married a brilliant man, after all, whose father had also been brilliant. Sort of went without saying that our son would follow in those significant footsteps.

But I digressed.

“Okay, so you got into Harvard. You kicked ass. Ethan took notice. But again—how did he miss the connection between you and your dad?”

Dane set aside his glass. “I don't know, truthfully.”

“What about the hard drive Ethan brought back from Switzerland? Anything of value on it?”

Dane's entire demeanor went rigid. A chill ran through me.

“Dane?”

“This has been bothering me all night.”

He shoved a hand through his hair, further mussing the strategically tousled locks. Momentarily distracting me. He was breathtaking at any given second of the day, but when fury tore through him his strong features darkened and raw intensity exuded from him.

“Tell me what you're thinking,” I said.

“When did he deliver the laptop?”

“While we were at the retreat, after I had the baby. Ethan brought the hard drive here, to Amano, who locked it in your safe. Guess he didn't mention it?”

“Amano? No. He wouldn't at the time, when I was wrapped up in the fact that you'd just given birth.”

“Yeah, he was a bit worried—like how could a Bax be born prematurely?” I pulled in a sharp breath, pain lancing through me. Something could have gone horrifically wrong with my delivery. Our child could have died. That did not sit well in my heart or my gut.

“Ari. Baby.” Dane gave me a long look, then asked, “Is that what's going on between the two of you?”

“The two of who?”

“You and Amano.”

“I don't follow.”

“Did you freak out that you might be going into labor six weeks early and that's why you told Amano not to call me?”

“I—” Had nothing to say to that.

“Ari.” He carefully gripped my shoulders. “Did you really put all that pressure on yourself? Thinking if something were to go wrong that it'd be
your
fault?”

Tears prickled the backs of my eyes.

“Answer me,” he gently insisted.

“I don't know,” I said honestly. “I just … I…” My eyes closed for a moment. Then snapped open, a bit misty. “Maybe. Yes.”

“Baby.” He pulled me to him and held on tight.

I fought back tears. I wasn't prepared for this. It wasn't something I'd put substantial thought into. My water had broken, I'd been rushed to the retreat, and Amsel had been born.

Sure, I'd been stressed out over having him early. But Dr. Preston had been more than forthcoming about all the risks, hazards, what have you, and I'd not felt as though I were floundering in the dark, uncertain of my son's health.

But Dane did have a point. I had put a lot of pressure on myself. That was moot at the moment, though, no matter how it percolated in Dane's head. His thoughts were likely centered on his not having been there to help or offer support. A massive conflict to overcome on his end. One I fully understood yet had no idea how to broach.

So I let it go for the time being.

“Back to the hard drive,” I said as I pulled away and swiped tears from my cheeks. “Ethan returned it, but Amano didn't mention that to you.”

“Chances are he assumed I'd already had discussions with Ethan.”

“But you obviously didn't.”

“Not until this evening,” Dane confirmed. “He mentioned it repeatedly. In fact, he seemed eager to know if I'd found anything noteworthy in my files.”

“But you haven't even looked at them.”

“It wasn't necessary during the trials. Plenty came out in the courtrooms, even prior to my testimonies. I can't imagine anything on the hard drive could compare. Really, I wasn't certain of what I'd downloaded or documented, which was why I wasn't in a huge rush to get my hands on the laptop. It was, literally, just for backup purposes—in the event there might be something worthwhile stored on it.”

I sank into my chair and tapped the end of a pen on the leather blotter. A nervous habit.

Dane asked, “What are
you
thinking?”

“Nothing really. This'll all be over when the verdicts come back, so what else is there to deliberate over?”

He shrugged, not the least bit nonchalantly. “Other than the fact that Ethan might have known my father thirty years ago and it somehow slipped his mind?”

“That's been eating at you all this time, hasn't it?”

“Yes.” He reached for his cell.

“Wait.” I jumped to my feet. “Just wait.”