Nauti Siren

The anger beginning to brighten her brown eyes dimmed, but he could see the concern in them as well.

“I don’t like it myself,” she admitted quietly. “She didn’t tell me where she was going, Dawg; I found out by accident. All she told me was that she had to get away. She slipped out in the dead of night because she trusted none of us to allow her the freedom she hungers for. Let her have her freedom, before we smother her to death.”

“A freedom that has the potential to get her killed?” he asked her wearily. “I understand the need, Mercedes, more than you know. But you know what nearly happened to Eve last summer. If someone targets one of the other girls in retaliation, and there’s no one there to protect them, what do we do then?”

“We pray that doesn’t happen,” she whispered as the concern in her gaze threatened to turn to pure fear. “But you also have to understand, Dawg: Piper’s not a liar; nor is she one to make decisions such as this rashly. She was driven to it.”

He had driven her to it. He could hear the accusation in her tone.

Christa had warned him more than once that the girls were going to rebel against his protection and begin making decisions that would only endanger them. He hadn’t believed they would do so without first confronting him.

His sisters were fighters; they weren’t cowards.

“How can you be certain she’s safe?” he finally asked her worriedly.

“I can’t, Dawg.” Her smile was gentle, compassionate. “All I can do is pray that if she’s in trouble she’ll call me. That and trust in the man Timothy has watching her.” She winked at him. “Watching her, Dawg. Allowing her to do what she has to do, what she wants to do, while an impartial third person stands ready to protect her rather than standing between her and what she needs. That’s the difference.”

He shook his head, worry tearing at him as he stared down at her, wishing, just as he had over the past six years, that he’d been able to protect Mercedes and the sisters he’d grown to love so much from his father’s cruelties before he had died.

He hadn’t known about them. No one had known about them but Chandler Mackay, and Chandler had done nothing to ensure their protection should anything happen to him.

“They’ll still get hurt.” That was part of what he couldn’t bear. “If not physically, then otherwise. They’re too trusting, Mercedes, and too innocent. If we don’t watch out for them—”

“Then they might get their feelings hurt or their hearts broken?” she suggested as she turned and began cleaning the stove. “We can’t keep them from getting hurt, Dawg. It’s life. You know that as well as I do.”

No, he damned well didn’t know that.

They were innocent, gentle, and deserved far more than he knew they had waiting for them if no one was close enough to protect them.

“You do know it, Dawg,” she stated as she turned back to him, watching him as though she could read the silent denial raging through him. “You don’t like it. You don’t want to admit it, but you know it.”

He refused to accept it.

“I won’t let them get hurt, Mercedes. I promised you that when you brought them home to me. I told you I’d look out for them.”

He had promised them he would look out for them, and he was breaking that promise.

She shook her head slowly. “There’s only so much you can do, Dawg.” The compassion in her expression tightened his chest as he suddenly wished he had brought Christa with him for this confrontation. Maybe she could have talked some sense into Mercedes. On the other hand, she would have probably agreed with her.

“Dawg, give her this time, she needs it,” Mercedes said softly. “More than you know, she needs it.”

She needed it.

But what happened if it was the chance an enemy needed to strike out at her?

What was he supposed to do then?

FOUR

Piper loved New York City.

The pace, the energy, the sense of excitement that seemed to permeate every corner of the city sank into her senses. Her heart beat faster. Blood rushed quick and furious through her veins, and the ordered chaos, the shopping throngs and ever-present sea of faces channeled a chaotic pace inside her own body and filled her with elation.

The first time Dawg and his wife, Christa, had brought her to the city had been to introduce her to the many and varied bolts of fabrics and exquisite costume jewelry and fake gems available in the small, out of the way shops and fabric stores there. Rhinestones, glittering crystals, clear sapphire – and emerald-colored stones—the choices seemed almost unlimited.

Now, five years later, she still found the little shops and stores impossible to leave once she began searching for the items she needed for each design—those already sketched and those that built in her imagination as she found hidden bolts of unique or discontinued fabrics, bows, ribbons, and glittering stones.

It was the first place she’d headed the minute she had rented her car that morning after arriving at the hotel.

The black four-door sedan was actually much smaller than she preferred for a four-door, but the latest trend in economy and fuel efficiency had also inspired a new generation of car designs that she simply wasn’t as fond of.

Driving in New York City wasn’t always safe, but it was rarely dull. Piper found her senses tuning in to the traffic, the bystanders, the lights and sounds of the streets as she drove outside the city toward the mountains that Eldon Vessante’s assistant had directed her to. The interview would take place at Vessante’s estate, rather than the hotel, and though she hadn’t anticipated the drive, she found it relaxed her, at least. Her nerves were less than settled at the thought of the upcoming meeting.

As she drove out of the city and entered the less congested interstate, she could feel her excitement building.

The change in time and location of the meeting was unexpected, especially considering the fact that his assistant had seemed less pleasant than she had when Piper had spoken to her the first time.

Following the onboard navigation, she found herself turning from the highway and moving onto a two-lane road that climbed slowly into the surrounding mountains. Another turn and she passed the sign for Vessante Way, the designer’s estate the assistant, S. Chaniss, had told her they were meeting at.

Piper was feeling more confused than excited as she pulled into the curving driveway in front of the three-story estate and gazed up at the stone steps leading to the massive double front doors.

There were no attendants present. No one was rushing to park her car, and only a small, bright red little sports car ahead of her was present.

Stepping from the rental car, she pulled free the wide portfolio she’d brought with her and gazed around the heavily forested area for long seconds before moving slowly to the steps.

As she reached the top, the doors swung slowly inward to reveal a towering butler.

Standing at six and a half feet at the very least, his brown gaze icy, his expression implacable, he gave every indication of being ex-military, and as hard as granite.

“Ms. Mackay.” He nodded down at her with a slight inclination of his head. “Mr. Vessante is awaiting you in the drawing room.”

The drawing room? Those actually still existed?

“If you’ll follow me.” It may have been worded as a request, but the tone was a straight-up order.

Her brother and cousins had ensured that she recognized the difference.

Before he turned away, his gaze raked over her with a glint of sudden curiosity, or familiarity. She’d met a lot of men over the years whom her male kin knew, and she was certain she had never met this man, yet that look gave her the uneasy feeling that he knew her.

Turning, he indicated she should follow him.

Dressed in black, perfectly creased slacks and a pristine white shirt that didn’t have a single wrinkle, he led her through the wide, steel-colored marble foyer that seemed to extend a mile or more. Reaching the end of the room-size entryway, he turned sharply to the right and a set of doors at the end of the short hall.

A sharp rap of his knuckles was answered in seconds. The butler gripped the doorknobs, pushed the doors open, then stood back for her to enter.

The heavy Gothic design of the room was a shock. Piper stepped from the more contemporary foyer and tried to control her amazement as she stared around the room. Dark, heavy woods, leather furniture with carved clawed feet, and thick, dark draperies over the windows that blocked the early summer sunlight and sent a rush of trepidation rushing through her.

She jumped, startled at the heavy snap of the doors closing behind her before swinging forward again. From the corner of the room, a light chuckle drew her startled gaze and she watched as Vessante rose and moved slowly into the center of the room. He approached her slowly, his head tilted to the side, icy blue eyes regarding her mockingly.

“You seem nervous.” His tone was less than sincere as he attempted to put on a friendly expression.

What was going on here?

“Where are the other designers?” Piper blurted, then winced. Not exactly the most graceful greeting, but this private meeting wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all. She had to force herself to stay in place as he moved within inches of her, his gaze dropping to her breasts as his right hand reached out.

Piper accepted the handshake, the sensation of his damp palms giving her a slightly queasy feeling.

Something wasn’t right here. As a matter of fact, something felt very wrong.

“The others couldn’t make it.” Pitched low, his tone still grated against her senses.

He wasn’t much taller than she was. At five-seven, Eldon Vessante was so skinny he was bony. There was an effeminate air about him that the overly long white-blond hair did nothing to dispel.

His face had a skeletal appearance, with high, sharp cheekbones and a long blade of a nose. The photographs she had seen of him had definitely given him more of a substantial air.

God, he reminded her of a rat.

Where had his reputation as a playboy come from?

“I see you brought your portfolio.” He glanced to the large, square design folder she carried.

“Yes, I did.” Gripping the folder with both hands now, she wondered at the sick feeling of panic growing inside her. “I assumed your assistant and the other designers with your company would be here.”

She wished they were.

She hated the feeling of being trapped, alone with him.

“We don’t need them, my dear,” he drawled, the slight, feminine pout of his lips more apparent as he smiled slightly.

He might not need them, but she did.

“Come, shall we sit and discuss our new venture?” With a wave of his hand he indicated the sitting area on the other side of the room. “I wasn’t really considering another designer this year.” He turned as though her acquiescence were a foregone conclusion. “One must be certain to choose carefully. To ensure the market doesn’t become overly glutted, you understand.”

Piper followed, but she did so warily, listening to the precise, self-important tone of his voice rather than the words themselves.

“You’re not contributing to the conversation, my dear. That’s quite rude of you.”

Eldon paused in the middle of the sitting area, one hip jutting forward as he lifted his left hand, palm upward, as though giving her the floor.

“I was listening,” she excused her nonparticipation, still watching him carefully as she moved into the sitting area.

“Have a seat, please.” He gestured to the sofa with an outstretched hand. Piper perched on the edge nervously as he remained standing.

“Would you like coffee? Or perhaps tea?” he asked, still standing with one hip jutting slightly forward, the position, as well as her own, ensuring her a perfect view of his thighs, should she want to look.

She didn’t.