Take Me Deeper (9 page)

Hell, she could smell the danger on all of them.

“Hey little lady,” the man at the bar said in a full-on Texas drawl. “So you're the one causing all the problems, hmm?”

Iris, already furious, bristled even more. “I wouldn't be causing any problems if this douchebag hadn't brought me in.” She tried to jerk out of Zane's grip and failed.

“That's what happens when you skip bail.” Quinn's voice was repressive. “You get re-arrested and taken in.”

“And you pissed off the cartel,” the man sitting at the bar murmured. “That takes serious balls.” His gaze was full of lazy heat. “Why don't you come over here and tell me all about it?”

Iris almost gasped in surprise as Zane unexpectedly jerked her closer. “She's not going anywhere near you, asshole.” His voice could have frozen fire, though there was nothing cold about the raging heat of his body that was pressed against her back.

She blinked, finding it difficult to breathe. That scent of his was flooding her senses, clean and fresh with a hint of warm skin and male musk, a combination that was somehow intoxicating.

“I think she can make up her own mind,” the man at the bar said without a hint of offense. “Can't you, sweetheart?”

“Leave it, Rush,” Quinn growled. “She's a skip.”

Rush laughed. “I don't give a shit what she is. She's hot.”

“She's also standing right here,” Iris said acidly. “It's Goldilocks and the three douchebags.”

“Mouthy too,” Rush murmured approvingly. “I like it.”

“Shut the hell up, Rush.” Zane's grip didn't ease, his fingers pressing hard into her skin. “If you're not going to help, then she's coming with me. End of story.”

Rush lifted a shoulder. “I've changed my mind. We absolutely must help her.”

Quinn shot his brother a filthy look. “What the fuck? You agreed with me about sending her to Dallas not ten seconds ago.”

“Like I said, I've changed my mind.” Rush looked supremely unconcerned. “We don't need the cash that badly.”

“It's about more than just the cash, goddammit.” Quinn shoved his chair back, raking a hand through his disordered black hair. “It's about the reputation of this company—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You won't fucking shut up about it.” Rush rolled his eyes. “We won't mention the fact that Dad pretty much screwed the company's reputation all by himself.”

Quinn's expression was furious. “He
was
by himself. After we left—”

“After we left he did nothing but throw everything away down a bottle of bourbon. And not forgetting the fact that we left for a reason.”

A silence fell, full of roiling tensions and undercurrents.

Iris stared at Rush and Quinn, fascinated in spite of herself. There was some serious family business going on here, and she kind of wanted to know what it was. Behind her, Zane had gone tense and still, and she had a sudden urge to turn around and look up at him, see the expression on his face.

But no. As much as she was interested to see what the hell was going on with these guys, the fact remained that they were arguing about her. They were also deciding her fate as if she weren't even there. Sure, she'd jumped bail and this was justice happening, but she was pretty fucking sick of justice. She was pretty fucking sick of the whole system. And if anyone was going to be making decisions about her fate, that someone was going to be her.

Staying with this bunch of assholes seemed more and more the wrong thing to do.

“I have an idea,” she said into the awful silence. “You could just let me go and pretend you never saw me.”

“No.” Zane's response was automatic. “That's not happening so stop saying it.” He tightened his grip on her arm, the skin beneath his fingertips soft and smooth as warm silk. Christ, he should be letting her go, but he couldn't seem to do it. He didn't want to risk her escaping, not after he'd only just stopped her from creeping out not five minutes earlier.

That she probably couldn't escape him anyway and that holding on to her wasn't going to make any difference didn't seem to matter. His fingers wouldn't open and he'd be damned if he was going to make them, not with that look on Rush's face. Avid and hungry, like a wolf who'd just spotted an unattended lamb.

He didn't question the possessiveness that roared through him at that particular moment, he just went with his gut reaction, which was to pull Iris close and make it clear who she belonged to. Him.

She belongs to you? Really? That was fast.

“Well, at least we agree on something.” Quinn stared at him, his gaze dipping to where Zane gripped Iris's arm and back up again. “Though I'm seriously questioning your motives here.”

She was so warm against him, the scent of her hair and the soap she'd used the night before making him feel almost dizzy with want. Damn, what was wrong with him? He'd never let a woman get to him like this, never. “She needs help,” he forced out. “That's all the motive necessary.”

“I don't need help,” Iris said, sounding irritated. “What I need is to get on with what I was doing and not get killed. Or jailed. That's it.”

“Right and you were doing so well with that,” he snapped back.

“I'm getting vibes here.” Rush raised an eyebrow, grinning at them in a way that made Zane want to smack him. “Definite vibes.” He glanced at Quinn. “I'm thinking Zane's motives are a little more than just about help.”

This was ridiculous. He should never have said anything to Rush about Iris. He'd thought he was dealing with the brother he knew back before he'd gone to jail, the one who'd always been the peacemaker, the moderate. Who'd handled their father's drunkenness and Quinn's stubbornness without either shouting or coming to blows. But now it was like he didn't give a shit what happened. As if he took pleasure in annoying the crap out of them and making the situation worse.

An unexpected and heavy disappointment settled inside Zane.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, standing there fighting with the two people who were all he had left of his family.
All
of them standing there looking at one another like they were strangers. It reminded him too much of the aftermath of Charlie's death, when everyone was at each other's throats and looking for someone to blame. The consequences of that had led Rush to prison, Quinn to the navy, himself to the army, and the old man to liver failure, their family disintegrating under the pressure of one terrible mistake.

Really? Come on, it had already started disintegrating way before that, and you know it.

That was true. It had all started happening before Charlie, back when his mother had died and his father had changed. But whatever, it was strange to feel this way when only the day before he'd been all pissed about the usual “family first” bullshit his father used to spout. Seemed like that small spark of family feeling was a bit bigger than he'd first thought. It was either that or his perpetual need to fix broken things, and their family was sure as hell broken.

“No,” he said forcefully, staring at one brother and then the other. “We're not doing this. We're not standing around ripping the shit out of each other. Not again. You said Redmonds stick together, Rush. So let's stick the fuck together. Let's find an alternative.”

There was a silence, heavy with memories none of them particularly wanted to revisit.

Then Rush shot a glance at Quinn who gave a slight shrug and shifted in his chair. “What kind of alternative?” he asked.

Iris had gone quite still, a certain tension vibrating through her.

“I'm thinking an alternative that involves getting Iris away from the cartel,” Zane said, his brain already processing through some strategies, “but makes Lone Star look good.”

“How would you suggest we do that?” Rush asked, his lazy smile vanishing, his expression all business.

An idea slid into place. An idea that was flat-out risky as hell. But it was the less shitty alternative and if it worked, Iris would be safe, the police would be sweet, and the cartel would be fucked.

“Iris isn't the only one who can testify against the cartel.” Zane met Quinn's gaze, then Rush's. “There are others. The people after her, in fact.”

Iris turned all of a sudden, looking up at him, her dark eyes wide. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

He looked down at her. “I mean, if we play this right, we can grab the men who were sent to kill you. That saves you and puts them in the firing line instead.”

“And how is that going to help Lone Star's rep?” Quinn asked. “We're supposed to be delivering bail-jumpers, not taking down drug empires. That's not our job.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Zane glanced at Rush. “You still on good terms with the sheriff?”

His brother's gaze narrowed. “Why?”

“Because he might be interested in bringing in some bigger fish than Iris.”

“You mean we deliver them the cartel pricks instead of her?” Quinn's voice was neutral, the look on his face utterly expressionless.

But he was interested, Zane could tell. There was a definite gleam in his eyes. Quinn didn't change his mind—except in exceptional circumstances when the opposing idea was a good one. For him.

“It's risky, but yes. Lone Star gets kudos from the police and they release Iris. The cartel assholes get prison.”

“What makes you think they'll agree to that?” Iris hadn't taken her eyes off him, the look in them very, very sharp. “The police, I mean. And what makes you think the cartel will let me go?”

“You're only a drug mule, which means you probably know nothing about them, not really. And if this pans out, the police will have guys who actually know stuff in custody. I'm thinking the cartel will be more worried about them testifying than you. In fact, I think they'll lose interest in you completely.”

A crease had appeared between her brows. “What about my arrest?”

“We can do a deal. We've done them before.” Except the last deal had ended up with Rush in prison. Yeah, he really didn't want to talk about that.

Glancing back at Quinn, Zane said, “So? That an alternative you can live with?”

His brother surveyed him coolly for a long moment, giving away no hint of what he was thinking. “What you're saying is that you want us to risk our business, not to mention our lives, bringing in a bunch of cartel fuckers so that this woman—who actually ran drugs for said fuckers—goes free.”

Zane stared stonily back. “Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying.”

Quinn's face was as expressionless as a rock wall. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why should we risk it? I mean, give me one reason, Zane. You're going to be fucking off back to Carolina as soon as this is dealt with, right? So why should Rush and I risk everything for her?” He paused, then added, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Iris muttered dryly.

This was important, Zane knew. He'd invoked the Redmond stick-together law, which was kind of ironic since he'd always been the one most frustrated with it.

Joe Redmond had been full of homilies about family loyalty, but the guy was such a hypocrite. Because Zane had always known it wasn't family that had mattered to his father, it was the bottle.

No, the thing that had kept Redmonds together had been Elizabeth, their mother. And it had been her death that had sent everything to hell.

Now here they were and their father was dead, and the situation hadn't changed one iota. But someone had to pick up the pieces and it might as well be him.

The irony of the situation did not escape him. Yet what was the alternative? Delivering Iris to the police? Yeah, he'd already decided he couldn't do that, which left trying to protect her on his own. Which he could do, but not forever and not without help.

Christ, no matter how much he wanted to get out of this godforsaken hole, it seemed fate had other ideas for him.

Call it fate if you want. Mostly it's just your own guilty conscience.

Okay, fine. It was his conscience. It was the woman he'd loved and who'd died because of him. It was his vow never to let it happen again, to not be his father who didn't care about anything or anyone but himself.

Zane stared at his brother. “Fine,” he said without hesitation. “You help me now, and I'll give you six months before I go back to Carolina.”

Another silence fell, deeper this time.

He was aware of Iris's puzzled gaze on him, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. But he didn't look at her. He kept his attention squarely on his oldest brother.

“Six months, huh?” Quinn's expression turned assessing. “You'll work with us? Help pull this business out of the red?”

“Yes.” Rush had been in prison longer than that and Charlie had lost her life. Six months doing what he'd sworn to himself he'd never, ever do was nothing. “I'll help. That good enough for you?”

But Quinn hadn't finished. “You acknowledge that I'm the boss. You do what I tell you to from now on, understood?”

Jesus. The arrogant son of a bitch.

Zane gritted his teeth. “You're the boss. I take orders from you. Happy now?”

“You also have to pick up the dry cleaning.” Rush held up a hand and began counting off fingers. “Take coffee orders, wash the dishes, do the laundry—”

“Shut up, Rush,” Quinn snapped. “Okay, you have a deal. We'll help.”

He didn't want to acknowledge the rush of relief or the weird foreboding at what he'd promised Quinn, so he didn't, focusing instead on Iris and the sudden ebbing tension in her posture. She'd been scared obviously, and with reason. They'd decided her fate between them right then and there, which couldn't have been easy.

Quinn, with his characteristic decisiveness, got up from the table, picking up his phone as he did so. “Rush, you might need to pay a visit to the sheriff, get him to talk to the folks in Dallas, see who's on their most-wanted list. I've got some calls to make.” He glanced at Zane. “How long have we got before they track her down?”