My Killer Vacation — Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Taylor

ne foot in front of the other. Down the stairs.O I can do this. I can have a fling and not get

emotionally involved.

Yes I can.

I’m not going to acknowledge the pressure building behind my eyes or wrestling outward from my ribcage. It’s ridiculous. I went into that bathroom with realistic expectations, didn’t I? Myles was very clear that he didn’t want serious. The very idea of a private school teacher from Connecticut dating a bounty hunter is totallyabsurd. I told myself when we got the lust out of our systems, I could walk away with some perspective on my sexual preferences. And whoa. I got a lot more perspective than I bargained for. A lot.

Comparing what I just did with Myles to the awkward, no-frills sex in my past, I have to laugh. I laugh right there on the staircase leading down into the living area. Did I

have a feeling sex with Myles would blow my other experiences out of the water? Yes. Unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate this absolute conviction that I’ll never in a thousand years be able to replicate what it felt like to be with the bounty hunter. Never.

There is nothing I can do about the situation, though.

He’s going to solve the case and go back to his job. I’m going to return to Connecticut. Just like he said. So I need to be a big girl about this. No strings. That was the expectation and nothing has changed. I have no reason to expect anything more from Myles and I won’t. We slept together. People sleep together all the time. I’m not going

to make a mountain out of a molehill.

Even if he is definitely a mountain.

A big, powerful force of nature.

I almost trip on the bottom step and there’s a hissed breath behind me.

Myles is following me down the stairs, his T-shirt slung over one brawny shoulder. Of course he’s trailing after me.

He has to leave through the front door, doesn’t he? I give him a polite smile over my shoulder, but he only frowns back. “Taylor—”

The front door of the house opens and Jude walks in.

Takes off his sunglasses and tosses them onto the entry table. When he sees me he stops dead in his tracks.

With a sigh, Myles skirts past me, finally pulling on his shirt. “I need to make a phone call,” he mutters, a deep crease between his eyebrows as he looks down at me.

“About what you found in the property records.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right outside.”

“Okay.”

He very obviously wants to shake me and I have no clue what I’ve done wrong. With a sharp curse, he starts toward the front door. Jude steps into his path, however, putting a hand on Myles’s chest to keep him from going any further.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why my sister has a bandage on her head.”

In the midst of my jumbled thoughts over Myles, I failed to see how this scene might look from Jude’s perspective.

I’m coming down the stairs with Myles stomping after me, his surly nature on full display. There is a bandage on my head and I probably look like I’ve just crawled on hands and knees through a monsoon. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my brother—or anyone—go white as a sheet, but I have to clear up whatever he’s thinking right away.

“Jude—”

“If you hit my sister,” he says to Myles. “I will murder you.”

Oh dear. I jog forward to get between them. “No. Jude, he didn’t—”

“I didn’t hit Taylor.” Myles holds up his palms and looks Jude in the eye. Totally calm. Not downplaying my brother’s concern or getting defensive like I’m scared he will. “I would never hit Taylor. You’re a good brother for making sure.”

Jude exhales quickly, his chest dropping a few inches.

It’s like he’s coming out of a trance. But Myles waits and his words are acknowledged with a nod before he drops his

hands. “What happened?” Jude asks, coming closer and examining the bandage.

“I can’t hear the recap again,” Myles rumbles, taking out his phone and striding toward the front of the house.

“I’ll be outside.”

Jude stares after him. “I should probably go apologize.”

“No,” I say, watching the bounty hunter duck beneath the doorframe. “I don’t think he requires one. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Yeah, it is,” Jude agrees after a second. “If anything, I

think he was proud of me.”

“Isn’t that lovely?”

“You already said that, T.”

“Did I?” A notch forms in my throat while watching Myles pace on the porch, phone pressed to his ear. “Must be this head injury.”

I detail the attack to my brother with as little emotion as possible. There is no sense in upsetting him. Yet somehow he still seems to be on the verge of tossing his cookies by the time I’m finished. “I’m fine, really. It could have been worse.”

“I shouldn’t have let you get wrapped up in this,” Jude says, gathering his hair in a fist and holding it there on the top of his head. “You’re always looking out for me and this was my chance to return the favor and where was I?

Sleeping on the beach.”

“That’s good! It’s your vacation.”

“It’sour vacation, Tay—”

A car screeches to a stop outside of the house. Followed by several more cars braking, engines cutting out. A lot of

talking and shouting ensues. As though a portal has opened and a crowd has been shaken out from another dimension.

One deep voice stands out from the others.

“Oh no.” Jude’s eyes slide shut. “Oh God, he actually came.”

“What?” I split a look between the front door and my

brother. “Who?”

“Dante.”

“Dante ishere?”

“Yup.”

Arms linked, we slowly edge toward the front window, but most of my view is blocked by one very muscular back belonging to Myles. “What the fuck is all this?” he’s shouting.

“Myles,” Jude says, tapping the bounty hunter’s back through the window screen. “It’s okay. He’s not a threat.”

My brother’s voice rises to a shout. “He’s just stubborn!”

“You’re the one refusing to see me for no good reason,” calls back Dante—and I can’t help it—warmth spreads in my chest like melted chocolate. “I’m coming in there.”

“I beg to differ,” Myles drawls, though there is a steel

edge to his tone. “Taylor?”

“Yes?”

“Why is the kid from the Phantom Five movie on your porch?”

I massage his tense shoulders through the screen, but they remain as hard as concrete. “We know him. He grew up with Jude. They’re best friends.”

“Are we?” comes Dante’s disembodied voice. “Pretty sure my best friend isn’t supposed to avoid me. To the point

where I have to see him on the news to find out he’s vacationing where a murderer is at large.”

“On the news?” Myles repeats, throwing us a dark look over his shoulder. “What is he talking about?”

Dante clears his throat. “Can we do this inside? I was followed by a few paps.”

“Let him in, Myles,” I say. “He’s safe.”

“There are a lot of people out here, Taylor,” Myles answers. “Get away from the window.”

Jude and I take several giant steps backward, leaving us between the living room and the kitchen. “Done.”

The front door opens and there is Dante. But he’s not the slightly awkward, quietly handsome kid I remember.

No, he’s a taller, thicker, stronger version with soulful brown eyes, midnight hair and a five o’clock shadow on his square, movie star jaw. I should have expected the transformation. After all, I’ve seen both Phantom Five movies in theaters. I’ve watched him jump off a skyscraper and land on the wing of an airplane, fight a twenty-foot robot and…make love. My face heats a little when I rememberthat scene from the second movie. The one where he has hate sex with the beautiful villain played by one of my favorite actresses. I bite my tongue before I can ask Dante what she’s like in real life. Because it’s not my moment. Not my reunion. It most definitely belongs to Dante and my brother and it’snot what I’m expecting.

I expect Dante to call Jude a flake. I expect Jude to give some witty retort and toss his hair and all of it to culminate in a back-slapping hug. Instead, Dante stops just inside the door and scowls at Jude.

“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Dante deadpans. “Good to know.”

Jude rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Dante. Save some drama for the movies.”

“We could have easily done this over the phone.”

My brother unlinks our arms and hobbles toward the fridge. “Could you please settle down and have a beer—”

“Why are you limping?” Dante’s golden brown skin loses some color. He turns to Myles who has just entered the house behind him. “How did Jude get hurt? Aren’t you supposed to be their bodyguard?”

Myles kicks the door shut to a flurry of camera flashes.

“The hell I am.” He spears me with a warning look. “When were you two on the news?”

To someone who is just meeting the bounty hunter for the first time, his personality might come across as forceful. Or aggressive. But not to me. I recognize the line of worry between his eyebrows and the way he can’t seem to get a swallow down. We’ve made this man’s job infinitely harder and he’s rolled with the punches. He could have left us vulnerable. Sure, he shouts and curses and he doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body, but he’s…a wonderful sort

of asshole. Isn’t he? He’smy asshole.

Oh God. I’m in trouble.

“I’m starting to wonder if this guy is the reason you’re limping,” Dante mutters, crossing his arms over his superhero chest.

And I don’t know what happens inside of me in that moment. I just sort of lose it.

Is that the second time in five minutes that someone has accused Myles of inflicting bodily harm on us? Yes. Yes, it is. A geyser of protectiveness plumes inside of me.

Especially when I see Myles flinch over the casual accusation. He’s not made of stone. He’s a protector. A good man despite what he presents to the world. How many blows can his armor withstand?

Before I perceive my own intentions, I’m across the room like a whirlwind. I pick up Myles’s hand and intertwine our fingers, holding our joined hands close to my chest. “This man is very good at his job. Unfortunately, he cannot protect Jude from a jellyfish.That is why he’s limping—”

“I wasn’t seriously accusing him—” Dante starts, holding up a contrite hand.

“Well you did.” I squeeze in closer to Myles’s side. “You did. And he didn’t deserve it. Yes, he comes across like a massive jerk, but he’s got a soft center, you know?” I wait for Dante to nod. “He’d take a bullet between the eyes before he raised a hand to me. Those were his precise words earlier. And he feels the exact same way about Jude.”

“Not theexact same way, Taylor,” Myles mutters, shrugging at Jude. “Nothing personal.”

“Too bad.” Jude snaps the caps off two bottles of beer, uses them to gesture at the three of us. “I’ve seen that porn, too.”

“Jesus,” Dante sighs, but the corner of his lips are tugging. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Jude’s expression doesn’t change. “That makes one of us.”

The movie star’s smile drops. He and Jude go back to staring at each other and they don’t stop, even when Jude limps across the floor and hands his friend a beer. They’re like two alley cats waiting to see who will blink first.

“We should leave them to talk,” I say, looking up at Myles—and I’m surprised to find him already frowning down at me. Not angrily. More curious or surprised.

“Massive jerk, huh?”

“That’s the part you’re zeroing in on?”

“No,” he says quietly, cupping the side of my face.

Watching in fascination as his thumb skims my cheekbone.

“It’s not.”

“Oh?”

Grunt. “I’m waiting for the police to get back to me on Evergreen Corp. Could be an hour or so.” He shakes his head. “There are a lot of other leads I need to follow, but I just keep thinking about how you never got your ice cream.”

I don’t know if it’s possible to fall in love with a man in four days. But if it is, I think I’ve just soundly accomplished that feat with Myles Sumner. And there’s no more pretending I’m not heading for a very steep fall.