Page 10 of Let It Burn (The Barrington Billionaires 4)
He tensed and snapped. “You think you understand me? You don’t.”
“I’m not your enemy, Andrew.”
He relaxed visibly and rubbed a hand over his face as if wiping away a memory. “What happened to that elephant?”
The memory of its fate brought tears to her eyes. “We placed him with an animal sanctuary in South Africa, but he didn’t adapt. He became a danger to himself and those around him, and eventually they put him down. I don’t know what you’re doing in Aruba, or what you’re doing with me, but I won’t let you hurt my uncle.” She motioned toward the still open door. “You should go.”
For several long moments, Andrew stood motionless. He was a man of action, not reflection or indecision. Stay or go. The choice was simple. Or was it? He kept circling back to what the woman on the beach had said that morning. If I’m not careful, I’ll get Helene killed.
Right now, I’m as far from careful as I’ve ever been.
Dammit.
He straightened and stepped toward the door. The temptation to calm the chaos within him with alcohol was strong, but he wouldn’t go down that road again. He marveled for a moment at how, even though she knew next to nothing about him, she understood him with uncomfortable clarity. I’m a fucking angry elephant. He breathed out a self-deprecating laugh.
She searched his face, and there was a realness to the moment that had him admitting, “I used to always know the right thing to do. I believed in my country, the Corps, and myself . . . often in that order. I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
She pressed her lips together with cautious sympathy. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”
“Because of me,” he said harshly.
She nodded, seeming to understand how that was worse. He took another step through the door.
“Good,” a male voice said as he came up the steps. “I don’t appear to be too late.”
The man stopped in front of Andrew and held out his hand in greeting. He was a dignified man in his sixties, slight of build but with a presence of someone important. “Although I hear the reason for your visit is not a happy one, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barrington. I’m Clarence Stiles.” The man presented well. He looked Andrew in the eye and shook his hand firmly.
“Andrew was just saying that he can’t stay,” Helene said in a rush.
“Was he?” Clarence looked to Andrew in question.
Leaving was probably for the best until he knew more about the situation. Andrew needed time to clear his head. “My intention was not to intrude, and Helene mentioned that you unexpectedly had to work late. I’ll come back another time.”
Her uncle waved that idea away. “Nonsense. We’re all here, and I’m sure my cook has prepared something delicious for tonight. Close the door, Helene, before you let bugs in.”
Andrew met Helene’s eyes again. “It’s better if I go.”
Stiles looked from Andrew to Helene. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” When Helene didn’t immediately answer, he continued, “It appears that Dr. Gunder had a distinct lack of discretion. I heard a rumor this afternoon, Helene, that you have a possibly criminal, muscular giant of a new boyfriend. I’m assuming he was referring to you, Mr. Barrington.”
Andrew cocked an eyebrow at the line of logic her uncle was drawing. He wasn’t, however, about confirm or deny the rumor.
“We—I—” Helene stumbled to a stop, regrouped, then started again. “Andrew saw my date going badly and intervened. He said he was my boyfriend simply so Dr. Gunder would leave.”
Stiles’s eyes flew back to meet Andrew’s sharply. “So you lied to and intimidated the doctor?”
Andrew shrugged. “I didn’t like the way he was treating your niece.”
Stiles clapped a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and a smile stretched his lips. “Good.” He nodded and guided Andrew back inside the door. “I respect a man who isn’t afraid to do the right thing. It’s often not easy.”
“No, sir.”
Stiles closed the door. “How about a Scotch? You earned a drink.”
Although Andrew allowed himself to be brought back into the home, he said, “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink.” Helene searched his face with such earnest intensity he found himself adding, “Anymore.” He hated how pale she was. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she looked on the verge of telling her uncle that he was a gun-carrying wack job. “I really can’t stay.” He took a step back.
Stiles looked at both of them again. “As you wish, but I was hoping I would have a chance to answer your questions. Helene told me your family still has concerns, and I’d like to put them to ease.” The hand he ran through his hair shook.
Helene was at his side instantly. “Are you still feeling off? What was your blood sugar level when you last checked?”
“Enough, Helene. I’m fine. Maybe a little stressed.” He looked over at Andrew. “We haven’t lost many patients here. The memory of your brother’s death weighs heavily on me even after all this time. I’d rather discuss it now instead of later unless there is a reason Mr. Barrington can’t stay for dinner.”
Helene shot Andrew a pleading look. It seemed to say, Help him. Help us. What he struggled with was if that was best done by staying or leaving.
“Andrew. Call me Andrew, and I could stay for a quick meal. I appreciate you taking the time to address questions about something that happened so long ago.”
“Perfect,” Stiles said. “Then if you don’t mind I’ll take a moment to freshen up and meet both of you in the dining room. Helene, be a dear and make sure he has everything he needs.”
“Of course, Uncle Clarence.” She smiled until the exact moment her uncle disappeared into a room off the main foyer then her expression went stone cold. She spun and jabbed a finger into Andrew’s chest. “My uncle isn’t well. If you hurt him or upset him, I will . . . I will . . . I’ll do something awful to you.”
He’d never seen a more adorable sight than her snarling like a mama protecting her cub. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. “I’ll stay on my best behavior.”
Desire battled with confusion in her eyes and she ripped her hand away from him. “I’ve seen your behavior, and I’m not sure your best is good enough.”
A slow grin spread across his face, which gained him a glare from her. He couldn’t help it, despite everything else, being with her felt good. She was quirky and upbeat, which would have normally annoyed him, but he remembered how she’d looked when she’d closed her eyes and held her face up to the warmth of the sun. That’s how he felt near her. In a world that had become cold and empty to him, being near her felt so good he wanted to close his eyes and savor her.
Even if she looked as if she wanted to slap him.
“How are you a virgin?” He hadn’t meant to utter the question aloud, but he did softly, and she gasped when she heard him.
Between gritted teeth, she asked, “How are you not?”
He threw his head back and laughed at that. He’d been raised to tread lightly around women. The number-one rule in the Barrington home had always been to never ever upset their mother. Women were fragile. They could never be exposed to the harsher realities of life. Andrew had always avoided what some would consider good women. He didn’t want to spend his life walking on eggshells, worried that one honest word from him would shatter his partner. Helene wasn’t like that. When he pushed, she pushed back, and it excited him. He bent so he could whisper in her ear. “You are so damn hot.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Right.”
He raised his head and came to a sudden, shocking realization: Helene Franklin didn’t know she was drop-dead gorgeous. It made him want to drag her out of there, forget about everything else, and show her exactly how beautiful she was . . . again and again, all night long. And he was sure every ounce of his desire was written on his face.
“Helene?” Stiles called from the dining room.
Oh, y
es, dinner. He groaned. His only consolation was the look of yearning in her eyes that mirrored the need gnawing at him.
He didn’t want to want her, but that horse had left the stable.
He didn’t want to doubt her or her uncle, but that required disregarding what the woman on the beach had said. Who may have been sent to test me rather than actually deliver that message. What she said about Helene could have been a veiled warning of what would happen if I didn’t keep my mouth shut about what happened in Iraq. Although, if Colonel Ahearn were going to threaten me, I can’t imagine it would have come in the form of a high-drama blonde. More likely it would have been a near miss from a .50 caliber sniper rifle. Close enough to get the point across without adding to the colonel’s headcount. Or more accurately—deadcount.
No, it doesn’t make sense for the colonel to send the blonde.
Someone is fucking with me, but I don’t know who or why yet.
“Answer him,” he commanded softly.
She searched his face again. “First, promise me you’ll go easy on him.”
He felt jaded and old before such an innocent request. If he actually were there to mess with her uncle, any promise made would have been an empty one. He didn’t have to ask her, though, if she still believed that a man’s word meant something—the answer was there in her eyes. Despite everything, she still trusted him to do the right thing because he fucking promised to. Someone would teach her that believing anyone inevitably led to disappointment, but he didn’t want to be that person. “I will.” And he would, unless her uncle gave some indication that he was a threat to her. After leaving the Corps, he didn’t think he would ever again have the stomach to take someone out, but he pitied the person who tried to hurt Helene. Emmitt had said every Marine, even retired ones, needed a mission. Keeping Helene safe had become his last stand, not because he knew her very well, but because something told him that saving her was the key to saving himself, and if she died on his watch he was headed somewhere dark, a place there was no turning back from.
