Wilde For You (The Wilde Sisters Book 3) (6 page)

“Yup.”

“And?”

“What does it matter? Bob. Henry. Gus. It’s just a name.”

“Is he hot?”

“I don’t sleep with ugly men.”

“You don’t talk about any men. You’ve never introduced us to a guy. You’ve never mentioned a romantic date. You always act like you hate men. But this guy makes you blush. How hot and heavy are you?” Thyme teased.

“We haven’t—” She stopped herself before she gave away any more information.

“You haven’t slept with him yet, but he can make you blush like that?” Thyme laughed. “Well, it’s about freaking time! I want to meet this guy.”

“Shut up. It’s nothing.”

“Thyme, leave your sister alone.” Rayne sipped her tea and studied Sage. “We’re here for you if and when you need us, you know.”

“Yup.” No way was she succumbing to her sister’s sweetness.

“Okay. Change of subject. Thyme. How’s Maddie?”

Thyme softened and went on a ten minute talk about her adoptive daughter. Maddie was the bomb. Cute little first grader. Thyme had been her nanny when Maddie’s parents died. The mother’s will revealed Grayson as the father. He had the shock of his life and then fell madly in love with Thyme. The flaky bimbo and the millionaire. Quite the unlikely pair, but he worshiped her and the feeling was mutual.

Sage wouldn’t have given up nine months of her body if she didn’t think the crazy couple would end up celebrating sixty years of marital bliss. While Thyme babbled on about Maddie and her excitement over being a big sister, Sage thought about her sexy fireman and all the delicious things he could do to her body.

Chapter Five

Luke

No amount of caffeine could keep him awake. He had pulled three eighteen-hour days in a row and topped it off with a twenty-four-hour shift. Unscheduled, but fires rarely were. Not trusting himself to drive to his place safely, Luke crashed on one of the beds in the firehouse and did his best to sleep through the alarms and commotion. The guys left him alone, knowing he needed some serious shut-eye.

He got in a solid six hours before being roused by Mark.

“Dude. Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. Caller ID says ‘Ma.’ Figured you’d want to know.”

Raking his hands across his face, Luke rolled his shoulders and reached down for his cell. “Thanks.” Not bothering to listen to the messages, he called his mom back.

“Ma. What’s going on? Is it Rachael?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you. Your chief said you’ve worked non-stop this week, but…”

Luke sat up, fully awake. “Ma. What is it?” He pulled on his jeans and laced up his boots while holding his cell between his shoulder and cheek.

“She hasn’t returned any of our calls. We’re worried. Blake can’t get away from work and Graham is in the air and Colton…” Colton was neck-deep fighting off terrorists in Afghanistan. Being a Special Ops was something cool to brag about, unless you were a soldier or the mother. “Rachael called me last night. She was crying. And then—”

“Then what?” Luke interrupted, pulling his phone away so he could tug on a shirt and then quickly replacing it. “Is she hurt? What?” His impatience wasn’t with his mother, but with the bastard who’d been tormenting his sister.

“I thought I heard her scream before the phone went dead.”

“Did you call the cops? The detective who wrote up the restraining order?” Luke grabbed his keys and bolted out of the station and out to his truck. He didn’t wait for it to warm up before putting it in reverse and peeling out of the parking lot.

“Of course I did. Detective Flynn said he’d put an APB out for her and Dylan but I haven’t heard back from him either. I’ve called your brothers and have been trying to reach you. I’m scared, Luke.”

“I’ll find her. And I’m bringing her home.” Luke hung up and drove straight to the airport. Having a brother as a pilot had its perks. Luke used his family deal to scrape up a ticket. Granted, he was stuck with two layovers before he’d make it to Los Angeles, but he didn’t care. His sister was in trouble and he’d make sure she got home safely.

***

Sage

Damn men. Damn Luke. This was why Sage didn’t do relationships. Not that she and Luke were in a relationship. They had a serious case of flirt—which Sage didn’t do either—that had a promise of sex. And where the hell was the sex? It had been a week since their meeting at the coffee shop and Luke had only called her once. For five seconds. Apparently he was getting his fill on the side, so Sage would as well.

She liked to keep her calendar booked, with just enough time in between appointments to assure her being punctual even in the event of traffic or a flat tire. If there were no unforeseen events, she arrived early and used that time to make calls or do paperwork. All had run so smoothly the past few weeks that she found herself with fifteen minutes to spare and no calls or number crunching needing to be done.

Not accustomed to chasing after men, she avoided calling Luke, but now contemplated sending him a quick text. It wouldn’t take him long to return a simple message and she’d know for sure if he was planning on seeing her again. Picking up her phone, she typed in his number and stared at the blank screen. What to say? Thinking it over, she finally typed her message:

Let me know if you’d like to schedule an appointment. My calendar is filling up.

There. He could interpret it any way he wanted. Let him think her social calendar was just as busy as her business calendar. Whatever.

Needing to let off some steam, she drove to Rayne’s gym, In Motion, and popped into a Zumba class. Rayne didn’t ask about her grim expression and gave her a look that said she knew something was up.

This was why Sage didn’t date. This was why she didn’t do relationships. This was why she didn’t fall in love. Sage may have tripped a little. Still, it wasn’t love. Gah! She barely knew the guy and would never fall in love with him. With anyone. It all lead to heartbreak. Not that her heart was breaking, only her mind. No, her mind was distracted by a jumble of lust, muscles, and pregnancy hormones. Sage knew she’d miss many male opportunities while wasting her time thinking about Luke and willed her brain to focus on her career, her social life, the babies growing in her belly.

The jerk didn’t deserve her time.

***

Luke

“Rach. Thank God. Are you all right?” Luke slumped in the seat of his rental car, holding his cell phone close to his ear, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Over the past few days he’d stopped by her work—learning she’d resigned a few months ago—then interviewed her colleagues, her neighbors, her few friends. No one had seen her since last week.

Thankfully the slimy boyfriend was easy to find. He hadn’t missed a day of work at his car dealership. He didn’t act surprised to hear Rachael was missing—the cops had already been by a few times to interview him—and he didn’t seem too upset about it either. He had a solid alibi for almost every minute of his day, but still, Luke didn’t trust him. The man was shit.

Luke finally got a bite this morning when Tally, Rachael’s nosey neighbor, mentioned that she may be holed up at a woman’s shelter. Luke thanked her and she’d hinted that she’d like him to repay her by taking off his clothes, but that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen. No wonder Rachael didn’t have many friends if this was how all the women were in L.A.

“I’m okay,” she whimpered.

“Are you safe? Are you in the shelter on Montrose Boulevard?”

“Yeah.” She sighed.

“I’m across the street. They won’t let me in. Will you come out?” He knew being large and male made him an unwelcome visitor at the shelter.

Rachael hesitated. “Okay.” She sounded broken. Defeated. But thankfully she was coming.

Luke unfolded himself from the small car and waited. When the front doors opened, a tall woman appeared. Gruff, stern, and looking both ways down the sidewalk. Probably on the lookout for the monsters that made the women flee to her. Then Rachael appeared. Her shoulders slouched, her small frame shrunken and defeated. With her chin tucked to her chest, Luke couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t need to.

He jogged across the street, ignoring the watchdog’s glare. “Rach.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. She didn’t hug him back but she leaned against him and sobbed. “I’ve got you now, honey. He’ll never hurt you again. I swear.”

Her head nodded slightly. Luke pulled away and tipped her chin up. Her cheek was swollen and her left eye rimmed with purple and yellow. “Damn. I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“No,” Rachael cried. “Leave it alone. I just want to…” She sighed and leaned into him again. “I just want it to be over.”

“Rachael?” The tall woman spoke. “Is this your brother you were telling me about?”

“Yes. Thank you for letting me stay here, Carla.”

“I’m hoping you won’t need to return, but if you do, our door is always open.” The woman nodded to Luke. “Take care of her.”

“With my life.” Luke hugged his sister tight. “You’re coming back to Maine. We’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t, Luke. Mom. She…she can’t see me like this.”

Not wanting to have this discussion on the sidewalk, he nodded his thanks to Carla and held his sister close to his side. “You’re coming with me. We’ll talk and figure out our next steps.” He sure as hell wasn’t leaving California without his sister.

After stopping to pick up some subs and drinks, Luke opened the door to his hotel room and ushered Rachael inside. Dwarfed in her large sweatshirt and baggy jeans, his sister looked weak, frail, and skittish. The bastard did this to her. It was too similar to when he first met her. When his family took Rachael in after her father was arrested for beating her mother to death, Rachael was a scrawny twelve-year-old who had survived being a human punching bag for too long. And now she was the victim again.

“I’m so sorry, Luke.” She didn’t cry, didn’t move as she stared out the window.

“Sorry? What the hell for? You didn’t do anything, Rach.”

Rachael crossed her arms and sighed. “I let you all down. You all told me Dylan was bad news but I wanted to prove I could make it on my own. I can’t let Mom see me like this.”

“Honey, we all love you and don’t blame you at all. We want to take care of you. You know Mom would love to have you stay with her until you get back on your feet again.” Luke had an overwhelming urge to beat the prick until he was a useless lump of bruised skin and broken bones bleeding on the sidewalk, too weak to call for help. He’d never had violent urges before Dylan entered Rachael’s life. Luke would do anything to protect his family, and his heart sank at not being able to shield his sister from her pain.

“I’m a secretary. Was a secretary. Dylan made me quit my job a while ago. He wanted me to…” She wiped her nose on her shoulder and turned away.

When Luke put his hand on her arm, she jumped. Cursing himself for being so insensitive, he pulled back his hand and sighed. “You don’t have to prove yourself to us. We all love you. You’re in a rough spot right now, but what doesn’t kill a Riley makes us stronger. Come home. You need us. We need you.”

Rachael finally turned and faced Luke, tears in her eyes. “You all have careers. Lives. Mom has success stories in all of you. You don’t need me to shame the family name.”

“Rach,” he pleaded. “Look at me. Please.” He waited patiently, watching her fingers twitch and her eyes blink back tears until she finally lifted her head. “You could never shame our family. We’re all products of eff’d up people in the world, but they don’t define us. We define ourselves.”

Knowing she needed her space, he slowly leaned toward her and kissed her lightly on her tender cheek. “Sit and eat. You need your strength. Then we’re going back to your apartment and packing your things. You’re coming home.” He pulled out the chair at the tiny round table in the corner and waited for her to come sit.

“I thought Colton was the bossy one. You’re supposed to be our rock, the nice guy with sexy dimples.” A tiny smile escaped her lips.

“While Colton’s in Afghanistan I’ve got to fill his shoes. He’s protecting our country. I’m protecting you.”

Rachael softened and nodded. “Okay. I’ll come home. But can we wait a few days? I don’t want Mom to see my face like this. So much for showing you all that I can be Miss Independent.”

“This isn’t your fault. You’re not responsible for someone else’s actions.” If he had a nickel for every time he heard that in therapy growing up. It only took fifteen years for him to finally believe it.

“I have nothing to show for myself, Luke. No job, no money. No clothes. Dylan…he made me…dress a certain way. Eat particular foods. Diet. Wear my hair…” She ran her hand down her limp hair before picking at the sub roll.

“I’m assuming the asshole didn’t pick out today’s wardrobe?”

Rachael tried to smile, wincing when her grin threatened to escape, and touched her cheek. “He’d be mortified.”

She looked like a homeless woman, but he supposed she was. After Rachael picked at her sandwich she agreed to lie down and take a nap. When she zonked right out it gave Luke a few minutes to catch up on his messages from work and family. Not wanting to talk on the phone and wake her, he stuck with texts. The first he sent was to his mom to tell her Rach was okay and they’d be home in a few days; then he sifted through the thirty-seven unread texts.

Taking care of work first, he rescheduled his shifts. When he got back he’d be working seven days a week and wouldn’t be around to help his sister. At least Rachael would have their mom. And Lucy. The sisters were never close but they would have time to connect when they were reunited. They needed each other whether they knew it or not.

Instead of responding to all of his siblings’ texts, he replied in a group message, giving them the low-down on Rachael. The last text he opened was from Sage.

Damn, his heart sped up just looking at her name in his inbox.

Let me know if you’d like to schedule an appointment. My calendar is filling up.

He laughed despite himself. The minx left that message on purpose. She couldn’t come right out and say she missed him, although he knew she did, and she didn’t want to sound needy. Not her style.

The woman was a complicated mix of strength, stubbornness, and sass with a dash of compassion. Offering to be a surrogate for her barren sister was one of the most selfless acts of love he’d ever seen. Uncomfortable with her generosity, Sage Wilde did not like people to see the caring side of her. Upfront and brash was more her style.