More Than Meets the Ink (30 page)

James hadn’t elaborated on the need for a new door and window further than pinning it on vandalism, mainly because meddling in other family members’ affairs was not only a pastime for Aunt Maggie but some kind of frigging genetic condition all Bowens shared. His brothers had proven time and again that they didn’t know when to butt out of his business, so clueing them in would have been carte blanche for full frontal assault. They would have gone all protective on Tate and scared her shitless with their intensity, because although she didn’t fully understand the ramifications of him taking her to breakfast with them, Cole and Max did. She was very important to him, which according to them meant her well-being was also their responsibility. And Tate was definitely not ready for that; it would freak her out big-time. Hell, she’d been looking badly off balance since this morning when he’d gone and blurted he loved her—no need to go for a home run and knock the poor girl down on her ass.

As Elle came by and they ordered drinks, James introduced her to everybody. She had a bright smile ready for everyone except him. Him she regarded with wariness. Tate thought her sister hadn’t yet given him the third degree, but she was wrong; while he’d been taking care of the parking ticket at the airport, Elle had approached him.

“
You get the benefit of the doubt because according to the Eternal Sun gossip committee, you’re good as gold. They better be right, or I’ll stick my boot up your ass so far it’ll set up residency in your throat
.” Those had been Elle’s first words to James, accompanied by a wide smile that had left him speechless. Now if Max or Cole had said that to him, it would have been another story altogether, but he wasn’t used to dealing with brassy girls with angelical smiles.

“Was Clint sober enough today to answer questions?” Zack asked after she’d walked away. He was appreciatively watching her, and James smiled inwardly. Zack was an easygoing, laid-back guy; Elle would chew him up and spit him out in a second.

“The police are still holding him, but he insists he spent the night getting plastered and then went home. No one at the bars he visited can account for his whereabouts at the time the bottles were thrown, including him. He admits to having an agreement with Andrew Vito to get Tate to sell, but Clint says he had nothing to do with the e-mails or fires. He insists someone broke into his car and planted the gasoline-filled bottle there. He says he’s done nothing illegal, that he only tried to be a good friend and convince Tate she’d be better off without the restaurant on her shoulders. But she wouldn’t let him get close or see reason, so he grew more exasperated every day until not even the ten thousand that he owes Vito could justify putting up with her. He of course blames Vito, saying he must be the one behind the arson trick and the threatening messages.”

“And what does this Andrew say?” Cole asked, still looking furiously at him, making him feel guilty. At least Max wasn’t glaring and just seemed happy he got there in time to get a piece of the action. “Have the police interrogated him?”

“Yep, but he denied even knowing the guy, let alone having any agreements with him or having anything to do with the gasoline-filled bottles or the e-mails.”

“And they bought it?”

James shrugged. “The police have a solid case; their suspect is a scumbag with a long rap sheet, and they have nothing substantial to tie Rosita’s to Andrew Vito, who as far as they’re concerned is a straight enough businessman. They aren’t interested in a wild-goose chase. That’s why Jack and I paid him a visit this afternoon.”

“You had us replacing doors and windows while you were confronting thugs?” Now Max was pissed too. “Very smart, bro.”

“There was no need for backup; it was all very civilized.” Besides, Jack was intimidating enough. It was amazing what he could accomplish just by staring at someone and saying, “
I want to see your boss
.” It had something to do with his ice-cold demeanor and dangerous stillness.

“We told him we knew about the suppliers and his interest in buying Rosita’s, and about Clint’s debt to one of his bookies. The asshole laughed, said the suppliers’ trick was his father’s crooked sense of humor. He said his dad had always had a soft spot for Rosita’s, but he wasn’t ready to resort to illegal measures, that the joint wasn’t worth it and that they had already acquired a restaurant downtown. Concerning Clint, he admitted seeing the guy once and suggesting that it would be mutually beneficial if he could remind Tate from time to time how he’d pay a fair price for the restaurant and how selling could be a great option. In exchange he’d consider settling his debt. He denies ordering Clint or anybody else for that matter to threaten her or set fire to the place, of course.”

“Do we believe him?” Max asked.

“We believe no one,” Jack said. “We’ll check with the Internet cafés where the e-mails were sent, and let’s see if anyone there recognizes Clint’s picture or any of Andrew’s thugs. Let’s also test how loyal the guys are in Andrew’s inner circle. Maybe there’s someone with a weakness we can exploit or a deal we can make to get some reliable info.”

At that point, someone cleared her throat. Their eyes lifted to see a wide-eyed Elle holding a tray with their drinks. How long had she been there listening? By the looks of her, James figured she’d heard more than her fair share.

“Can I talk to you in private?” That wasn’t a question but a demand, so without waiting for James’s reply, she left the tray on the table and moved to a far corner, away from prying eyes.

James reluctantly followed her. This was a conversation he so didn’t want to have. Tate had diminished the whole Clint thing while talking to Elle in the car; an unhappy employee, she’d said. There had been no mention about the threatening messages or Vito’s early attempts at boycotting the restaurant. No wonder she was pissed now.

“What the fuck were you guys talking about back there?” she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

James frowned, his lips pursed into a tight line. “You really should talk with Tate. It isn’t my place to—”

“Start talking or I’ll go get it from them,” she threatened, pointing at the table where the others were. “How long do you honestly think it’s going to take me to get the truth out of them?” Not long, that was for sure. They were all half taken with her; she’d bat her eyes and they’d all cave in. Except for Jack—he was immune to any and all women’s tricks, no matter how sweet or how brassy. But the rest? Ha! Give her three seconds with them and they’d all be spilling the beans.

Letting out a slow breath, James ran an aggravated hand through his hair. Okay, time to engage in some damage control; he’d tell the story as clipped and short as possible.

She was flabbergasted by the end of it.

“How come I didn’t know anything about it?” she said.

He eyed Tate. It was a good thing she was busy and hadn’t noticed them talking. Yet. “I guess she didn’t want to worry you.”

“Damn her! She shouldn’t have kept all that to herself. I would have—”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t available,” he defiantly added, crossing his arms over his chest.

Elle shot him a furious look. “You don’t get to judge me. This,” she said and gestured to the restaurant, “is none of your business, Mr. Wonder Boy.”

“True, it isn’t my business, it’s
yours
. Your business, your responsibility. Maybe it’s time you get your ass into gear and act upon it. Tate lost as much as you did in that accident, not any less.”

That last sentence seemed to get to her. She still stared defiantly at him, but her tone softened a bit. “I know.”

His tone didn’t soften. “Yet you’ve been letting your baby sister deal with everything.” He knew that was a cheap shot; Elle was barely a year older than Tate, but still.

“She’s the one that wanted to keep Rosita’s in the first place, not me!”

“She’s doing it for you and your mother as much as for herself. Or are you truly telling me in time you won’t feel sorry you gave up a restaurant that had been in your family for more than fifty years just because for a while after the death of your dad and brother, being there was too painful to bear?”

She didn’t answer right away. “I might have been a bit out of it, I recognize that, but I’m here now, am I not?”

“Yes, you are. And now that you got your shit together, you don’t really have any reason to continue to bail out on her.”

The glint of annoyance in her eyes grew stronger. She might be down, but she was by no means beaten. “You don’t beat around bush, do you?”

“No, but neither do you.”

She quirked her lips up slightly at that. Yeah, she gave as good as she got. “True.” She sighed. “We’re going window-shopping tomorrow. I’ll speak to Tate then.”

James nodded to her, and as he threw another glance in Tate’s direction, he noticed someone very much resembling Faith walking to the door. A frown marred his face. Tate was standing very still at the counter. Too still. Was that Faith? He’d got only a glimpse, but the clothes and the way she walked looked like Faith. And the platinum hair.

“I’m sure you’ll work everything out,” he added without looking at Elle, and after excusing himself, he headed for the counter and leaned on it in front of Tate. “Hi, princess.” She offered him a short smile. “Who was that?”

“Who was who?” she asked, averting her eyes. She moved a bit to the side and pretended to busy herself.

“The girl that just left. Was that Faith?”

“Nope,” she replied in a clipped tone. She looked a bit tense, and she was so lying.

“Come here,” he said. As she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he wiggled his finger for her to approach. She rolled her eyes at that presumptuous gesture but humored him nevertheless. And damn if he didn’t love her for it. When she was within reach, he grasped her hands and, after pulling her to him, kissed her softly over the counter. There were still many diners, so he just brushed her lips.

“Who was that, huh?” he whispered to her before kissing her again.

“No one.” She pouted stubbornly.

“You’re lying, and you’re tense,” he said between feathery kisses.

“That’s because you’re kissing me in front of God and everyone,” she muttered in spite of his best efforts.

He grinned. “Don’t worry; they all know I’m crazy about you.” Damn she was so beautiful when annoyed. And she was losing the battle; he could see a small smile forming.

Unable to help himself, he cupped her face and kissed her thoroughly.

“Okay, you lovebirds, cut it out,” someone said.

As James turned around, he saw old Mr. Ryan with a credit card in hand. “I haven’t had any action since the late seventies, so don’t make me jealous. I don’t think my heart can handle an erection.”

Tate blushed as red as a traffic light, mumbled an apology, took the card, and charged it. Mr. Ryan, a gentleman that came to Rosita’s quite regularly, just looked at her, amused.

“Jonah and Thomas would have given you hell for getting close to her,” he warned James with an admonishing finger, then turned to Tate with a wide smile. “But I’m sure they’d have loved him.”

* * *

After closing time, Tate approached James’s table, and he pulled her into his lap while he talked to his brothers, Jack, Zack, and Sean. Then Elle came and sat down, chattering and joking like she used to before her year away from Rosita’s. As Tim joined them, all the kitchen personnel and the waitresses did the same. One thing led to another, and they were all having dinner.

The table was full of people and laughter. Tim, Zack, and Sean were animatedly talking with Tina and Kelly, laughing and discussing something about the last concert they’d sent bodyguards to. Paige was serving everyone another round of mojitos. Nils, Jack, and Kelly were talking about Mexican food. Elle was laughing at something Cole had said, and Max and James were talking about Aunt Maggie. Everyone was happy and relaxed, except for Tate; her heart was stampeding, and she could hardly breathe. Yep, this must be what people called panic attacks.

She looked around; it was like the old days, when most of Rosita’s employees would stay for supper, comment on the night’s events, sometimes fight, but most times joked and laughed with each other about anything. She could almost hear her father and Jonah and her mom. Jeez, wrong turn there. The whole place was now spinning, and all she could hear were Faith’s words: “
Don’t get used to him. He isn’t yours to keep
.” And Mr. Ryan’s: “
They would have loved him
.”

She
loved him. She really did. Boy was she screwed. A huge lump knotted her throat, and she felt sick to her stomach. Panic spread over her like wildfire. What the fuck was she doing? Letting herself go like this, being happy like this? She must be nuts for allowing this to go so far. Hadn’t she learned anything from all that happened last year? From all that pain and misery she’d endured? All this could be taken away from her at any given second, as it had been taken away from her once before already. All that happiness,
poof
, gone with the wind. Dread began to take form inside her, dread for the pain to come.

She felt like laughing at her naïveté. She’d been deluding herself. Despite her better judgment, James had gotten under her defenses, convinced her she could trust him, that it was safe to love him. What had she been thinking giving in like this? What the hell was she to do when he dumped her? It’d rip her heart out. He’d take all this happiness with him, all this…rightness, and she’d be alone in the hell pit she’d been in before. She’d be broken, empty. Again. She couldn’t risk it, having all her well-being in a man’s hands. He’d walk like Aidan, like her father and brother, and then what? This, all those laughs in there were a mirage, something that would disappear as easily as it had come, leaving her to face the music all by herself. Suddenly she resented James for giving her that sense of belonging again. All her life now revolved around him; he was part of everything, from the restaurant to her nights to, God forbid, her dreams. This was bad; this was very bad. She had to stop this, get off this train now because she sure as hell wasn’t strong enough to endure the crash, and the longer she allowed the situation to continue, the worse the fallout would be. Mainly for her.