Page 75 of Tempting as Sin
“You think?” Antonio said. “But then, you only know what she told you. You weren’t there when she was apologizing for not being able to give me a baby. What was I thinking, though? If you want her?” He waved a hand. “Take her. What is it to me? I have the better of our little deal. America’s Sweetheart, not America’s Nothing. Kissing her goats in a barnyard in Montana, running to her lesbian sister every time she’s sad, because she cannot handle life. A woman who couldn’t have a baby, because sheisa baby. I couldn’t wait to leave her behind. Why should I care? Why should I stay?”
He walked away, toward the cameras. Rafe could let him go. Or he could hit him.
He wanted to hit him.
One step past them. Two. He was walking away. And Lily said, to his back, “You gave me syphilis. You gave mesyphilis.You could have killed our baby, and you wouldn’t have cared. Except we didn’t have a baby after all, did we? Why was that? Because you couldn’t even make a contribution. Any man can be a sperm donor. Except you. You couldn’t even do that. Not much of a hero. Not much of a man.”
The words were out there. Swallowed up by all those fuzzy microphones, recorded forever. And two steps beyond Lily, Antonio’s back went rigid.
It was a hot afternoon, and beads of sweat had formed along her hairline. Antonio wasn’t sweating, though, even in his black jacket. She’d thought he was cool, once. He wasn’t. He was cold. He cared about one thing. Himself. He had one true emotion. Anger.
Even as she thought it, he whirled, stepped, and lunged. His hand striking like a snake, knocking her sideways.
She fell hard against the steps and rolled into the fetal position, her hands covering her head, her knees against her chest, her elbows against her ribs. Waiting for the kick.
It didn’t come. She heard something instead. A thud. A grunt. She opened her eyes and saw it.
Not her face this time. Antonio’s. His arm was protecting his face, and she saw blood there. As she watched, Rafe’s fist landed in his solar plexus. Antonio doubled over like he’d been folded in two, and then he staggered and fell, with Rafe right after him, looking to end it.
Lily was scrambling to her feet, getting to Rafe, pulling his arm, saying, “No. Rafe. Stop. It’s not worth it.” The cameras were recording. What had he done?
No trace of her laughing, casual Rafe now. Antonio was still on the ground, still doubled up, retching, holding his abdomen, a trickle of blood from his nose running down his cheek. When Rafe spoke, he was The Beast, the mask stripped back. “News for you,” he told Antonio, whose beautifully lashed dark eyes were squeezed shut. “Army kids learn to fight. Australian Army kids learn to hurt. Bad. Stay away from Lily. Stay away from Kylie, too. Or I’ll hurt you so much worse. That’s a promise.Mate.”He grabbed the shotgun and told the assembled crew, filming for all they were worth, “Show’s over. I’m telling you one more time. Get off this property, and stay off. If you don’t, you’d better hope the sheriff is the one who throws you out. If it’s me, it won’t be pretty.”
They were moving at last. Lily went for her bag, found her purse, her keys, with trembling fingers. Inside the house, Chuck was still barking like a metronome. Her face throbbed, her ribs hurt with every breath she took, and she was trying not to breathe. Trying not to think. She just wanted to get out. To get away. To crawl into a hole and hide.
Pain. Shame. Humiliation.
Again.
Rafe followed Lily up the stairs, took the keys and her bag from her, opened the door, and dropped everything but the shotgun, which he broke open and set against the wall. Unloaded or not, those firearm safety lessons had been drummed into him too hard to forget. Chuck had stopped barking at last and came galumphing forward to meet them, his tail wagging furiously. Bailey, though, was nowhere to be seen. Her bike, he belatedly realized, had been gone as well, hadn’t it?
He put his arm around Lily and led her to the couch, saying, “Sit down. I’ll get you ice. You hit the stairs. How bad?” The mark from Carrera’s hand stood out red on her cheekbone, her eye was puffing already, and she had her upper arm pressed to her ribs. She still hadn’t said anything, though. She was shut all the way down.
“I’m OK,” she said. “Where’s Bailey? She said she’d stay all day. Where did she go? How scared must she be? She left her helmet here, but took her bike? She must have left in a hurry, then. I want to kill him. Why would he do that? I just hope you didn’t hurt him.Rafe.How hard did you hit him?”
“Ice,” he said firmly, and went into the kitchen to get some. He had to use cubes in a plastic bag wrapped in a tea towel, and when he came back in, she was up, searching in her tote. “Sit down,” he said. “Put this on your face.” The top of his head was about to blow off, and he was trying not to show it.Calm down, mate,he told himself.Take it down a notch.
“I need my phone,” she said. “I need to call Ruby. And would you pull the curtains? Telephoto lenses.” But at least she put the ice pack on her face.
“I’ll bring the phone to you,” he said, going around the living room and closing curtains, turning the warm afternoon dim. “I’m ringing the sheriff, too. And please. Would you sitdown?”
“Not the sheriff. Chief of police. It’s a city limit deal.” She smiled, winced, and laughed. “Ow. You were all the way into your character there. Good job.”
Minimizing,he recognized, and let her do it. For now. He brought her the tote, then did some searching on his phone, walked into the kitchen, sorted out an ice pack for himself, and put the kettle on for tea while he rang the police.
It took a wee while. “You say they’re reporters, sir?” the male voice at the other end said skeptically, once Rafe had explained. “Are you sure?”
Oh,Rafe realized.He thinks it’s some nutter calling in. Away with the fairies, thinking he’s a movie star.“I’m sure,” he said. He didn’t look outside. The journalists may or may not have retreated off the property, but they’d still be out there with their cameras aimed at the house. Especially if Carrera hadn’t left, though Rafe couldn’t imagine he’d hang about. A bully and a coward. He’d have been off with his tail between his legs. “I really am Rafe Blackstone,” he said. Anonymity be damned. “The actor. And Jason Blackstone’s brother. If you care to look it up, he has a cabin up here, and I’m living in it. And they really are here for me. Antonio Carrera was here as well, if you know who he is. He and I had a dispute in front of those reporters. Call it a problem between coworkers.” Let Lily stay out of it for one more night. It wouldn’t be longer than that.
“Sir,” the voice said. Not excited a bit. Still cautious. “Do you have somebody else I could call?”
“I’m not the missing Tsarevich, last of the Romanovs,” Rafe said. The control was slipping a bit now. The first time in his life he’dwantedto be recognized, and it wasn’t happening. “Ring my assistant. Martin Avondale.” He gave the bloke Martin’s mobile number. “He’ll establish my bona fides. But do it now. Otherwise, somebody could get hurt up here.”
“I’ll ask you, sir,” the bloke said, “to leave enforcement to the police.”
“Then get the bloody police up here,” Rafe said, “and provide it.” He rang off, breathed, and thought,What would Jace do?
This was the trouble with real life. You couldn’t transform into a beast, take care of the problem by killing a few people, and conveniently end up in the next scene. You were stuck in this one, with all its questions and consequences and recriminations.
