Enemy Lovers (16 page)

“Quinn said you're living together.”

“Quinn had a lot to say for himself.”

“After what happened…he worries,” Ma said.

“Laura and I are happy. We love each other and we plan to marry.” At least that was where he was heading with his thoughts.

“I see. You won't get married without us,” his mother said.

“No.” His parents weren't due home until next month. Time for some of the dust to subside.

Quinn strode to his side and plucked the phone from his hand. “Ma, it's Quinn. Dallas needs to take his medication and have a sleep. No, there isn't anything you can do by rushing home. Dallas is his usual testy self.” He paused. “No, I intend to wait with Dallas and do some work. Take care.” Quinn ended the call.

“You don't have to stay with me,” Dallas said.

Quinn ignored him and stalked into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and three different pills. “Take these.”

When Dallas opened his mouth to argue, Quinn said, “I'll ring Ma back and tell her she needs to come home.”

Dallas cursed and flung out his hand, unable to withhold his wince of pain. “Give me the damn pills. I guess a few hours of knock-out sleep won't hurt.”

“Go to bed,” Quinn said. “It's quiet here, and since they don't need me at the pub, I'll stay for a few hours. I have an appointment at four and will stay until then.”

Dallas swallowed the pills and heaved himself to his feet. “I don't need help,” he snarled when Quinn took two steps toward him. “Fuck, sorry.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Help yourself to anything from the kitchen.”

“It's a nice place.”

“Yeah, Laura and I like it here. We're gonna have barbeques in the garden during the summer.”

“Dallas, don't bite my head off, but how do you know you can trust her? Her sisters caused hell for me with their lies.” Quinn slipped his arm around Dallas and helped him down the passage to his bedroom.

Dallas perched on the corner of his bed, waiting for the pain to subside before he attempted his boots. “We met when she had a flat tire, and I offered her a ride to Clare. She ended up staying with me at the cabin, and we've been together ever since. She's not like her sisters and brother. Once you know her better, you'll see what I mean.”

“But—”

“Look, I worry about the age difference between us, the wealth of life experience. You don't think I haven't wondered if her parents are responsible for the attack. It was so random. I'm sure I've seen the guy who slugged me in the pub a couple of times. Then there's the graffiti and the emails about the debt owed. True, it points to the Drummonds.”

“But you don't think Laura is a part of it.”

“My heart says that,” Dallas said, attempting to toe off his boots. “Damn, can you assist please?”

Quinn removed his boots and helped Dallas out of his jacket. “What about your head?”

Dallas stilled. “Hell! That's the part that's worrying. I love her, but your past history with the Drummonds keeps fucking with my mind. Because you just
have
to keep harping on it. Then there's Maria. I worry I'm setting myself up for another bloody fall.” He rubbed his good hand over his face and groaned. It felt as if his head was stuffed full of cotton wool. Damn pain pills.

“But—”

“No! Damn, I had all this sorted in my mind before the mugging. I've had too much time to think, and you're not helping by adding your opinion at every opportunity. Everyone needs to butt out so Laura and I can work things out ourselves.”

Maria watched the house from a concealed spot behind a tree. She stamped her feet, jammed her hands in her pocket and cursed under her breath for forgetting to grab her waterproof jacket. The cold spring blast still sweeping up New Zealand kept bringing low temperatures. The accompanying sleet showers sucked for surveillance.

The rumble of a car engine had her straightening to blend into the shadows. The car slowed and turned into a driveway farther down the road, the engine dying seconds later. Long minutes ticked past. Lights flickered on in the house and her tension faded to a low-level hum. A neighbor. Nothing to worry about.

“Damn, Quinn,” she muttered. “How long are you going to stay?”

She waited, rubbing her hands together and huddling into herself to keep warm. What seemed like hours later, Quinn drove away, leaving Dallas in the house alone.

After checking the road in both directions and studying each of the surrounding houses for nosey neighbors, she felt safe enough to scuttle across the road and slip down the driveway. She'd watched Dallas and the woman and knew the hours they came and went. She'd studied the locks and figured she'd get inside without problems.

Her hand trembled when she reached for the doorknob, her fingers numb with the cold. When the knob turned in her hand, a spurt of surprise escaped her in a soft croak. She inched the door open, head cocked to listen.

Not a sound.

She stepped into the house and closed the door. Warmth hit her chilled face, the contrast of temperatures bringing a tingle to her features, her fingers and toes. The scent of coffee enticed her, and she followed it to the kitchen. Still no sign of Dallas. No matter. She'd grab a coffee and forage for food before approaching Dallas.

He'd loved her. Surely he'd help her now, once he learned of her troubles. Besides, she'd seen the other woman slap him in the pub. She hadn't been game to get too close since she knew they were keeping an eye on the pub, watching for another chance to get Dallas.

None of this would've happened if Dallas had listened to her at the start, if he'd accepted her apologies, taken her back. Dallas wouldn't have got hurt.

Maria found a mug and poured a coffee. She added two spoonfuls of sugar to make the liquid drinkable. In the fridge, she discovered a smoked chicken, some bread and made herself a sandwich. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

In the lounge, she added a couple of logs to the wood burner and toasted herself until the last of her chill retreated. Half an hour passed, and still Dallas didn't make an appearance. She'd given up creeping around and walked down the passage, exploring the interior. Not bad.

Of course when they got back together, she'd ask Dallas to move to an apartment, somewhere in the center of the city. She enjoyed living close to the action. This place was too far out in the 'burbs. Who wanted nosy neighbors chatting over the fence or rug rats screeching next door?

The first bedroom—a decent size double—was empty apart from boxes of books and crap. In the second bedroom—the master—she found her man. Dallas was in bed, his breathing deep and even. A purple bruise covered part of one cheek and one of his eyes appeared swollen. A hand stuck from under the covers. Swathed in a white plaster, the limb contrasted with the navy and silver duvet cover.

Joe had told her they'd given her man a warning. Worse would come if he didn't settle her gambling debts.

A glance at her watch told her she had time. She could clean up a bit, take a shower and if she woke Dallas, it wouldn't matter.

Two hours later, a yawn seized her. Dallas was still asleep and hadn't woken while she showered or put her clothes in the washer. Now they were drying. She didn't know what time the woman would arrive. A grin curled across her face as a thought occurred. Why shouldn't she grab a few z's while her clothes were drying? And if the woman came home, so what?

“Why don't you take Dallas's truck and head to the house?” Patrick suggested after telling her Quinn had rung and told him he'd made Dallas take his pills and sent him to bed. “It's quiet. We can cope without you.”

“Thanks. I don't want to leave him alone for too long,” Laura said. “No telling what idiotic thoughts will occur to him.”

“Laura.” Patrick stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. “You have to make allowances for the history between our families. The attack on Dallas plus the break in and the graffiti business are suspicious. It's no wonder Quinn is full of doubts and why Dallas is not himself.”

“I'm not responsible,” she snapped. “I'd never do that. From the moment I met Dallas, I've been upfront and honest. I'm not a devious person. If I have problems with Dallas, I'll tell him to his face.”

“You're not the one with cracked ribs. You're not the one with a dinky arm. You're not covered with bruises. Cut him a little slack. Quinn said he's dopey with meds. He's not thinking right. Go easy on him. Please.” Patrick squeezed her shoulder. “From where I stand, you'll make a great sister-in-law.”

“I've heard the Irish have silver tongues.” She drew a deep breath, her temper softening around the edges. Another draft of air and her brain cleared to focus on one thing—her love for Dallas.

Then a thought occurred—crystal sharp and obvious.
Duh!
She hadn't told him she loved him. She'd told James instead of the one person who should know of her feelings.

“You're right. Thanks. I needed the pep-talk,” she said.

“You and Dallas work together—you're right. Our families will see it soon. Call me, okay? Let me know how he is.”

“As soon as I get home.” It was raining again. Laura scuttled from the pub to Dallas's truck and still managed to get soaked. The cold water seeped through her lightweight coat, and by the time she reached the house, goose bumps pebbled her skin.

The house lay in darkness when she climbed out of the truck. She readied her key, frowning when the door opened to her touch, then shrugged when she realized Quinn wouldn't have had a key.

She walked down the passage to the bedroom. Dallas hadn't bothered to draw the curtains, and the streetlight across the other side of the road shone through the window. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw the outline of a woman cuddled up against Dallas. Heavy breathing—almost a snore—came from Dallas. Laura stood there for an instant longer, blinked twice and refocused.

There was a strange woman in bed with Dallas.

She was gonna kill him.

Laura took half a step into the bedroom, ready to deliver a rude awakening, ready to commit murder, ready to kick the bimbo in her skinny arse and came to an abrupt halt. She backtracked to the kitchen, hands fisted at her sides and unshed tears burning her eyes.

What to do? With a trembling hand, she hit speed dial and tapped her toes while waiting for Patrick.

“Speak.”

She dispensed with the niceties, getting straight to the point. “You need to get here now. I want you to witness me committing a murder.”

“What's wrong?” Patrick demanded. “Dammit, Quinn. Let me talk to her.”

“It's Quinn,” another voice snapped. “What's wrong with Dallas?”

“Come to the house,” she said. “And when the Drummond-O'Grady feud bursts into life again, you'll have a front row seat. Don't worry. I'll wait for your arrival before I start kicking butts.”

She poured herself a glass of wine, took a huge sip. She paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Drank more wine. By the time she finished with Dallas, he'd realize his screw up. He'd rue the day and all that crap. Her hand tightened on her glass. Empty. She refilled her glass, thought about getting to the ass-kicking.
No. Wait for Patrick and Quinn. Wait for witnesses
.

The sound of a car made her straighten. She drank the last of her wine and stalked to the door to let them inside. “That was quick.”

“You sounded angry,” Patrick said.

Quinn's expression took pissed to new heights. “What's going on?”

“Come with me.” She stomped down the passage, anger and two glasses of wine lending her speed. She flicked on the bedroom light. “Look at that.” Her finger poked bullet holes in the air. “Tell me I don't have a right to murder him in his bed.”

“Christ Jesus.” Quinn stalked to the bed and shook Dallas with no regard to his injuries.

Patrick strode to the other side and glanced at the stirring bimbo. Laura remained rigid in the doorway.
Low down dirty cheating scumbag bastard
.

“Dallas, wake up.” Quinn shook him again.

The woman sat up and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. The sheet dropped to her waist.

“I'm gonna kill him,” Laura muttered, glaring at the woman's naked torso.

“You
fuckin'
idiot,” Quinn said. “Dallas. Wake up, dammit!”

Dallas began to stir. The woman belatedly—for effect, Laura was sure—pulled the sheet up to her chin in an attempt at modesty. Dallas squinted at Laura, a dopey grin spreading across his cheating face. He looked like a small boy with his sleep-mussed hair, but the dark stubble along his jaw line and the hard, bruise-covered chest gave lie to first impressions.

“Oops,”
the woman said, fluttering dark eyelashes. “You caught us.”

Dallas's head snapped to the right, his grogginess falling away. His eyes widened, his expression transforming to horror. “Maria? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Chapter Fifteen

Laura folded her arms over her chest and glared at Dallas and the bimbo. “I give you ten seconds for explanations. If I don't like what I hear, I'm leaving.”

“Dallas and I were going to tell you,” the woman said in a mocking voice. “But this is easier. More clean-cut.”

Betrayal sliced and diced Laura's confidence, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her tears at bay. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. “Shut up. If I'm getting the kiss-off, I prefer to hear it from Dallas.”

At her words, Patrick moved to Laura's side and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

“When did Maria come back?” Quinn demanded.

Dallas cursed and hauled himself out of the bed. He wore boxer-briefs. At least that was something. The color fled his face when he twisted the wrong way, and Quinn's hand shot out to aid him. Dallas brushed his older brother off and tottered over to stand in front of Laura. “I have no idea how she got into our bed. I didn't invite her. She came into the pub a few weeks ago, wanting to take up where we'd left off. I told her to piss off, and I haven't seen her since. Laura, you have to believe me. I didn't invite her here.”

“He's lying,” Maria said. “I arrived this afternoon and we've been in bed ever since.”

Laura gritted her teeth, bunched her fists, the urge to lash out making her tremble. She needed to hit something.

Someone.

Her gaze lit on Maria. “Get out of my bed. Get out of my house. Get the fuck out. Now,” she barked when the woman stared at her in an insolent manner.

Maria's lips curled into a smirk. “Make me. Dallas wants me here.”

“That's not true,” Dallas said. “Laura.”

Laura turned away, unable to look at the woman any longer. “This is my home and you're trespassing. Leave or I'm calling the cops.” She was halfway down the passage when the woman shouted after her.

“No, wait. No cops.”

Laura grabbed her phone anyway and returned to the bedroom. Dallas had pulled on clothes and was muttering in urgent tones to Quinn. Laura stabbed random buttons and lifted her phone to her ear.

“No, tell her, Dallas,” Maria said. “Tell her you invited me here. No need to bring in the police.”

“Fuck off,” Dallas growled.

Laura narrowed her eyes. “Why don't you want me to ring the cops? Done something wrong and have a guilty conscience?”

The woman climbed out of the bed, flaunting her body. When none of the brothers took the slightest bit of notice, she grabbed a robe.

“Leave,” Laura ordered in a hard voice. “If I see you in the pub or near Dallas again, I'll go to the police station and file a complaint. I'll tell them you're harassing us and stalking Dallas. We'll get a restraining order.”

“You've spoiled everything, bitch,” Maria spat.

“Tell someone who cares,” Laura said, and she stalked from the room before she gave into her impulse to brain the bimbo.

“You can't let her speak to me like that,” Maria said.

“Fuck off,” Dallas repeated in a hard voice. “I don't want to see your face again.” He held her gaze, let her see the riot of his fury and fear.

“I'll see her out,” Quinn said, and he grabbed Maria's arm and hauled her down the passage.

“I need my clothes,” Maria squawked. “They're in the drier.”

“Hurry up,” Quinn snapped.

“What happened?” Patrick asked.

Dallas wrinkled his forehead, shook his head. Winced. “Don't know. I remember Quinn bringing me home. I remember him giving me my pills. I remember feeling exhausted, going to bed. That's it.”

Patrick grunted. “You didn't hear Maria arrive? Laura?”

“Didn't hear a thing.”

“Laura rang and told me to get here to witness the next saga in the Drummond-O'Grady feud. Man, she was pissed. You have major fence-building, bro.”

“I didn't do anything wrong.”

Patrick nodded. “Maybe not, but put yourself in her shoes. If you came home and found an old boyfriend in bed with her, how would you feel?”

“Ready to commit murder,” Dallas admitted.

“You've been hot and cold with her since the mugging. Don't deny it. I've seen you, heard you. What the hell is she meant to think?”

Dallas scrubbed his hands over his face, the sharp abrasion of stubble making him frown. “Maybe we're both kidding ourselves about a relationship. After the way her family treated Quinn, maybe I should walk away.”

No
. The moment he said the words, he wanted them vanquished.

Laura appeared in the doorway. “If that's what you think, I'll make it easy for you.” Tears swam in her eyes but she didn't avoid his gaze, didn't hide her pain, didn't back down. “Patrick, can I crash on your couch until I can make alternative arrangements?”

“Sure.”

“I'll wait for you in the kitchen.” Without looking at him again, Laura turned and stalked away.

“God, you're an idiot,” Patrick said. “You'll lose her if you're not careful.”

“It's for the best,” Quinn said, appearing in the doorway. “Nothing good can come of a relationship with a Drummond.”

“You're both moronic idiots,” Patrick snapped. “I'll take Laura back to the pub.”

The next morning, Dallas dragged himself from bed. After another dose of pills, he'd managed a solid sleep, but now his head felt as if it were stuffed with gray mush. He pulled on a pair of track pants, biting back a groan when his ginger moves ricocheted, pinging jagged aches throughout his body. The doctors had told him it would take time for his ribs to heal. He scowled at his arm. He'd be stuck with the plaster for weeks.

A distant rattle from the direction of the kitchen brought a rush of hope. It died when he rounded the corner to find Quinn peering blearily at the coffeemaker.

“I didn't realize you stayed.”

“I didn't want to give the barracuda another chance to climb into your bed.”

“Are we talking about Maria or Laura?”

“Maria,” Quinn said tersely, although his tone implied he thought Laura, too, fit the category. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. All I know is every time I think about walking away from Laura, my gut hurts. I love her, Quinn. Whenever I'm with her I feel…whole.”

“Jesus, Dallas.” Quinn poured coffee into two mugs and handed one to him. “If you feel that way, go after her.”

“But you don't like her family.”

“I don't. Her older sisters are bald-faced liars, but you're right. Laura doesn't act like her sisters. She doesn't look like a Drummond for a start. That helps,” he muttered the last words, almost as an afterthought. “You're the one who needs to be happy.”

“I need food,” Dallas said. “I haven't eaten for hours.”

Quinn shunted over his medication. “Take these. You'll heal quicker if you're not in pain. I can take you out to breakfast and drop you at the pub. That suit you?”

“Yeah.” Dallas still didn't have any idea what he intended to say to Laura.

When they walked into
O'Grady's
almost two hours later, Patrick was working the bar, and Laura was busy writing up the day's specials on the blackboard. Dallas's gaze traced over her face, her intent features as she worked, and something inside him shifted.

“I'd better drop by the other pub to make sure everything is okay,” Quinn said. “Ring me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Dallas walked over to Laura, jammed his hands in his pockets while he struggled to find the right words. “Marry me,” he blurted, his heart thundering while he cursed his wayward tongue. That wasn't how he'd meant to start their conversation.

“Dallas,” she said.

“Who else were you expecting? Damn.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Could we talk?”

Her brown eyes narrowed. “I have ten minutes before I need to start making pies.”

Dallas took her hand, helping her stand despite the twinge from his rib cage. “I meant it,” he said after he'd seated her at a corner table. “I want to marry you.”

“Why?” It was easy to see she didn't intend to make this easy for him.

“Because I love you. I've told you before.” A quick glance at her face told him he'd need to do more to pierce her armor. “I can't imagine my life without you in it. You're the first person I think of when I wake in the morning. You're never far from my thoughts.” His words tumbled out faster now, fear of losing her riding him hard. “You make me laugh. I enjoy spending time with you, and I want your sexy body all the time.”

Her expression lightened a fraction. “What about the trouble between our families?”

“I think Quinn will come around as he gets to know you. We can visit my parents once they return from their travels. Quite frankly, I can't see them not liking you. I—”

“Excuse me,” a man said. “Are you Dallas O'Grady?”

“Yes,” Dallas said, not trying to hide his annoyance at the interruption.

The man was middle-aged, sans the typical paunch, a snappy dresser with no-nonsense green eyes. Two beefy companions flanked him. He gestured them away with a sharp jerk of his head.

“Do I know you?” Dallas asked.

“You might like to take this conversation private,” the man said with a dismissive glance in Laura's direction. He dropped onto a seat and catalogued Dallas with those bright eyes.

“Laura is my fiancée. She can hear anything you want to say to me.” Dallas took comfort in the fact Laura didn't argue her status.

The man's eyes narrowed. He stuck out a hand. “Frank Rutherford.”

Dallas stiffened.

“Ah, I see you've heard of me,” Frank said, leaning back in his chair.

“What do you want?”

“I'm here to give you a friendly reminder about the debt you owe me. I want the money this week.”

“What money?” Dallas demanded. “What debt? I don't know what you're talking about.”

Laura frowned. “Are you responsible for the graffiti problem?”

“I believe in subtle warnings first,” Frank said with a negligent shrug.

“What debt?” Dallas repeated.

Frank cast a curious glance at Laura before concentrating on Dallas. “Maria Stanton has assured me you will take responsibility for her obligation.”

“Maria,” Laura said with a curl of lip. “She is a lying bitch.”

Frank straightened. “Ms. Stanton's avowal is not true?”

“Maria and I were close several years ago. That ended when she cheated on me,” Dallas said. “Any debts she has with you are hers alone. I don't care what she's told you. Do a little digging around. Ask my regular customers. They'll tell you I'm with Laura.”

“What sort of debts are they?” Laura asked.

“Maria has a liking for poker and other games of chance,” Frank said.

“And your men are also responsible for beating up Dallas?” Laura asked with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

His inscrutable face said everything.

“Let's make a deal, Mr. Rutherford.” Laura lifted her chin and Dallas almost smiled at the icy Drummond glare she aimed at the man. “You and your…employees leave us alone and we won't press charges.”

“Are you trying to intimidate me, girly?” Rutherford's minders shifted at the tone of his voice, but he waved them away. “Does she speak for you?”

“Yes,” Dallas said, full of pride.

“Damn right, I'm issuing threats. Dallas and I haven't done anything wrong. We have nothing to do with Maria or her debts. She comes near me or mine again and her ass will land in jail. If you stand too close you run the risk of getting caught in a girly catfight. I fight dirty so it won't be pretty.”

Dallas sat statue-still while Laura went into full tirade with the well-known crime boss. Her brown eyes glinted with temper, her cheeks were flushed with red, and she looked magnificent. This was the woman he wanted standing at his side.

“I don't like threats.” Rutherford bit out the words. His gaze went from Laura to Dallas and he scowled. “It's obvious Maria has strung us a line of lies. I will cease bothering you and yours. However…” His gaze drilled into Dallas. “If I learn otherwise, you will not enjoy the consequences.”

Laura opened her mouth to say something, and Dallas grasped her hand, squeezing in warning. She snapped her mouth shut in audible annoyance but remained silent. Thankfully.

“Was there anything else?” Dallas asked, keeping his tone polite.

“Yes.” Frank Rutherford focused on Laura, the sudden smoldering heat coming off the man rousing Dallas's ire. “If this man doesn't treat you right come and see me. You're feisty as well as beautiful. I'm partial to a sassy broad with a brain.” Frank stood, gave a curt nod and strode from the pub, his henchmen falling in behind.

“Did he just proposition me?” Laura asked.

“I wonder which one of us your mother would prefer.”

Laura shot him a level look. “I know which man I want.”

“Are you going to marry me?”

“I want a proper proposal. A nice dinner where I get to dress up. A good bottle of wine. Somewhere with a bit of romance. And I want a ring. Organize that, and we'll talk.” She stood and strode to the kitchen, disappearing without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

“Who was that?” Patrick asked.

Dallas explained about Maria, her debts and the lies she'd told to the guy holding the loans.

Patrick let out a whistle. “That explains the weird heavies we've had visiting the bar recently. None of them have caused any trouble, but they've stood out from our normal customers. How did you get on with Laura? Are the two of you okay now?”

“She wants a proper proposal with romance.”

“You asked her to marry you?” Patrick zoomed in on the most pertinent point.