Page 8 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

“Doesn’t it?” Alex snorted, then sniffed and swiped his hair from his face.

“I’m surprised Marla had another baby—I didn’t think she was too into kids.”

“She did grow up,” Alex said, casting him a look.

But Nick found it odd that she would have another child so many years after the first. She was just too damned self-centered. Stubborn. Egocentric. A goddamned princess. He sniffed, looked down at his boat and thought that half an hour ago his only problem had been dealing with a lingering headache, the result of becoming too friendly with a bottle of Cutty Sark the night before. But this . . . shit. Nick squinted at the clouds rolling on the horizon.

Alex cleared his throat. “So, look, Nick, the deal is that right now I need your help.”

“What kind of help?” Nick asked suspiciously. The rough hemp of the Cahill family noose tightened around his neck as rain drizzled from the sky.

“You’re a troubleshooter for corporations.”

“I was, once upon a time.”

“You still are.”

“No more. That was a while back, Alex. I’ve done a lot of things since. Now, I fish. Or try to.”

Scowling, Alex swept a glance around the weathered marina, then to the bucket in the bed of Nick’s truck. Alex didn’t seem convinced. “A few years ago you brought several corporations back from the brink of failure and now, well, believe it or not, I could use that kind of expertise. Cherise and Monty aren’t happy that they’ve been cut out of the corporation. They seem to think that since they’re Cahills they should have a piece of the pie.”

“Cherise and Monty. Great.” Things had a way of going from bad to worse. It seemed to go with being a Cahill. He leaned against the truck and Tough Guy sat at his feet, looking up, expecting a pat on the head. Nick obliged.

“Yeah, well, all that mess with Uncle Fenton and his kids was supposed to have been cleared up long before I came on board,” Alex said. “Dad dealt with his brother, but Fenton’s kids seem to have forgotten that. At least Cherise has. She’s the one squawking. Probably because of that damned husband of hers. A preacher. Christ. This is all ancient history. Ancient fucking history. Or it should be.”

“Dad handled Fenton the way he dealt with everyone,” Nick said, remembering the tyrant who had been their father. Samuel Jonathan Cahill had been a blue-nosed bastard if ever there had been one. “His way. Period.”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is Fenton was paid for his share of the corporation years ago. End of story. Cherise and Monty can bloody well take care of themselves. I’ve got enough problems of my own.”

Nick had heard this argument all his life. He was tired of it, but couldn’t help playing devil’s advocate, especially where his brother was concerned. “You really can’t blame them for being ticked off. They both thought they’d become millionaires, but their damned father pissed everything away.”

“I don’t blame them for anything. In fact, I don’t give a shit about either one of them. Monty hasn’t worked a day in his life and Cherise hasn’t done much more except collect exhusbands and turn into a religious nutcase. I’ve tried with her, even found this last one—a preacher, no less—a job. Shit, what a disaster that became.” Alex swatted the air. “Doesn’t matter. I wish Cherise and Montgomery would both just pull a disappearing act. Permanently.” He finished his beer in one disgusted swallow, then wiped his mouth. “Christ, what a couple of leeches. Blood-sucking leeches.” Alex stepped out of the puddle and leaned against the Dodge’s dented fender. “And if they feel slighted, well, as they say, ‘them’s the breaks.’ ” There wasn’t a smidgen of pity in Alex’s voice. “But it’s too damned cold and wet to stand out here discussing them. They’re just minor irritations.”

“They probably don’t think so.”

“Tough. Besides, they’re not the reason I came up here.”

“Marla is.”

“Partly.” He met Nick’s gaze.

“So now we’re down to it, aren’t we?” Nick said as the wind shifted, whistling across the parking lot.

“Yeah, that’s right. We are.” Alex’s voice was dead-earnest. All business. “Cahill Limited needs a shot in the arm.”

“Or the head.”

“I’m not joking.” Tiny white grooves bracketed Alex’s mouth, and for a split second he actually looked desperate. “And it wouldn’t hurt you to show a little family solidarity. We could use it. Mother. Me. The kids. Marla.”

Nick hesitated.

“Espe

cially Marla.”

The noose was suddenly so tight he couldn’t breathe. Tough Guy scratched at the running board of the pickup and Nick threw open the door so that the wet shepherd could hop inside. But the decision had already been made. Both he and Alex knew it. “I’d have to find someone to take care of the dog and my cabin.”

“I’ll pay for any inconvenience—”

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