No Ordinary Billionaire (The Sinclairs) (R) (5 page)

She moved away from him as she muttered, “I’m sure you didn’t.” But she didn’t sound completely convinced.

Dante followed her as she grabbed her purse from the living room and slipped her bandaged feet into her sandals at the door. After pulling the door open, she looked back at him. “Look, I understand that you lost your partner, and I’m sorry for that. But think about Patrick, Detective Sinclair. Would he want you to be doing this to yourself, acting this way? If you had been the one who died, would you want him to behave the way you’re behaving now? You’re not helping your partner right now.”

“I didn’t mean for you to cut yourself,” Dante grumbled, still concerned about the blood he’d seen on her foot.

Sarah shot him a stubborn look. “If you’re really sorry, take the damn pills.” Without another word, she left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Incredulous that Sarah had just walked out on her injured foot, Dante moved forward and yanked the door back open just in time to see her get into her car and head back down the driveway.

“Damn stubborn woman,” Dante muttered irritably, unable to shake off the guilt of what he’d unintentionally done to her.

Would Patrick want him to act like an idiot? Hell no, he wouldn’t. His partner would have chewed his ass about getting his temper under control and made him stop doing stupid shit that was self-destructive. In their early days as partners, Patrick had jerked Dante forcibly back more than once from acting on emotion, and Dante had learned the lesson quickly enough back then. Over the years, Dante had learned to keep a lid on his anger, knowing one stupid action could jeopardize an investigation.

Back in the kitchen, he slowly cleaned up the mess on the kitchen floor, cringing as he removed every droplet of blood from the tiles. He was panting by the time he finished.

You’re breathing short and shallow.

Annoyed that Sarah Baxter’s words kept haunting him, he took a deep breath and coughed hard, grabbing on to the edge of the cupboard to keep his balance as a pain so sharp and excruciating that he almost lost consciousness lanced through his chest. He was definitely seeing stars.

I’m an asshole. If I really wanted to torture myself, all I had to do was cough!

He could have saved himself the effort of going downstairs to the basement and lifting weights just by taking a deep breath or coughing. It sure as hell hurt just as badly—probably worse. Dante wasn’t certain what the hell he’d been thinking when he’d done that. Truth was, he hadn’t really been thinking. He’d been reacting. Maybe he’d been hoping the pain would keep him numb, stop him from thinking, reliving every moment of Patrick’s death.

Would he want you to be doing this, acting this way?

Sarah’s parting words were taunting him as Dante pulled a beer from the refrigerator, removed the cap, and sat down at the kitchen table. He and Patrick had had each other’s backs for the last five years. When they were working on a hot case, they sometimes spent twelve to fifteen hours a day in each other’s company. There wasn’t much that Dante hadn’t known about Patrick. They’d spent a lot of time giving each other shit, but he knew exactly how his partner would have reacted to Dante’s behavior.

“You would have kicked my ass, buddy,” Dante said quietly to himself before he took a swig of his beer and set it on the table. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he was careful not to irritate the healing laceration on his cheek. The way he was acting right now
wasn’t
for Patrick, it was for himself. His partner would have wanted Dante to watch out for his family, make sure Ben and Karen were okay. He’d made sure they’d never have financial problems, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to call Karen or Ben since they’d visited him in the hospital. Just seeing them reminded him of Patrick, and the fact that he was alive when Patrick was gone. Karen and Ben had a lot of family in California, but it didn’t matter. His wife and son had been the most important people in Patrick’s life, and he would have counted on Dante to make sure that they were doing all right emotionally as well as physically.

Karen and Ben don’t blame me. They cared enough to come to the hospital. I’m being a total asshole. I cut myself off from them because I felt guilty. Me. Me. Me. This has all been about me and not them.

Dante stood, grimacing as he reached for the pain pills, which were still on the table.

“Pity party time is over, Sinclair,” Dante said in a disgusted whisper, using an expression that Patrick had used on him whenever Dante needed a kick in the ass.

He’d been acting like a jackass from the minute he woke up from surgery and realized Patrick was dead. He’d been distant with his siblings, even though every one of them had come running when he’d been injured, Evan flying in from across the damn world. And he hadn’t even bothered to check in on Karen and Ben since he’d been in the hospital.

And he’d hurt Sarah Baxter, a woman who had only been there to help him, doing her own damn job.

All because I’m mourning my own loss.
Sarah was right. What he was doing wasn’t going to help his partner now.

Dante knew he needed to pull his head out of his ass.
That’s
what Patrick would have wanted. He’d been numb after hearing about his best friend’s death, burying his emotional agony deep inside himself, wanting to feel the physical pain because it was better than the guilt of knowing that he was still alive while Patrick was dead. Maybe he’d actually been numb because he was in denial. Strangely, as he finally stared grief directly in the face, the physical pain of his injuries came roaring to life without him even trying.

He grabbed the beer from the table, limped across the kitchen, and poured it down the sink.
No more of that shit until I’m healed.
Reaching into the cupboard, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

Christ!
Even lifting his arm hurt. Every one of his injuries felt like it was on fire, the pain in his chest and ribs the worst.

If you’re really sorry, you’ll take the damn pills.

A small, genuine smile formed on Dante’s lips. Sarah Baxter was probably one of the bluntest and most peculiar women he’d ever met, but he actually liked that about her. Honestly, she was a mystery, and the cop in him stood up and took notice—along with another part of his anatomy that he couldn’t seem to control when he looked at her.

Dammit! He
was
sorry he hurt her. He was a cop, and his first instincts were always to protect. The police officer in him hated himself for failing to protect Sarah. In fact, he’d caused her injury, which made him even more pissed off at himself. He wouldn’t deny that he wanted to fuck her, and those urges had roared through his body the moment he’d seen her. That was really saying something, considering he wasn’t exactly in any kind of physical shape to even think about wanting to get laid. Yet he was thinking about it, about her. And there was something about Sarah Baxter that fascinated him on more than a physical level. Her mind seemed to process everything to find the logical answer, yet she still seemed to radiate innocence and compassion. It was an odd and intriguing combination.

Tossing his head back, he took the “damn pills” and swallowed them with the water in his hand, draining the glass before putting it in the sink.

Dante left the kitchen with a mission. He made several phone calls, the first and longest one to Karen and Ben.

CHAPTER 4

Sarah grimaced as she finished bandaging her foot. As soon as she’d arrived back home, she’d made sure all of the glass was out of the wounds on the bottom of her feet. Most of the cuts were superficial, and she’d soaked them and added some antibiotic ointment before wrapping her right foot in a bandage. The cut wasn’t big or deep, but she had a nasty puncture wound that had caused a lot of bleeding. It might be tender to walk on for a while, but she’d live.

She got up from the sofa and started to put away her medical supplies, her small dog, Coco, right on her heels. Coco had belonged to an elderly patient who had passed away, and Sarah hadn’t been able to resist adopting her. It had been one of the most impulsive things she’d ever done, but she’d never regretted it for a moment. Only six months old when Sarah had adopted her, Coco had been smart, easy to train, and alleviated some of the loneliness that had plagued Sarah for most of her life. Maybe it hadn’t been sensible to get a dog, but knowing that she wasn’t arriving at her cottage to an empty home every night helped to make Sarah’s heart just a little lighter. Now Coco was her constant companion whenever she wasn’t working, and the kids at the youth center absolutely adored her.

Grady Sinclair had supplied the Youth Center of Amesport with a variety of musical instruments, and Sarah donated her time to teach some of the kids the basics on piano. Although Sarah had thought the Steinway baby grand had been more than a little much for introducing kids to music, she couldn’t help but appreciate the rich, beautiful sound of the instrument. She only held classes once a week, but Sarah found herself stopping by the YCOA just to practice and make use of the gorgeous piano every chance she got. Her cottage was too small for a piano. Maybe someday she’d get a bigger place and a piano of her own, but for now, going to the center served a dual purpose: it forced her to get better at socializing, and it allowed her to play the piano.

Thank you, Grady.

Beatrice and Elsie never stopped discussing how much things had changed since Grady Sinclair had married Emily. The YCOA certainly had everything imaginable for the population of Amesport and the outlying villages. Grady had changed the youth center from a gathering place for the local events that barely got by on a tiny budget into almost a free country club for everyone. Emily had been able to expand the programs for the children who utilized the center and make it the hub for any of the town’s activities. It hosted everything from concerts and dances to weekly senior bingo now.

A small smile formed on Sarah’s lips as she filled Coco’s dog dish with fresh water and food, thinking about the obvious love and devotion Grady gave to Emily. The two of them were so in love and happy together. Emily claimed that her husband spoiled her rotten, but Sarah knew that Emily made Grady happy, too. Her friend had a huge heart, and as unlikely a match as they might’ve seemed on the surface, they were made to be together. The gruff billionaire and the bubbly blonde were a perfect pair.

Sarah absently wondered what it would be like to be loved the way that Grady loved Emily. Never having experienced that kind of love, she didn’t have a clue whether she’d feel suffocated by it or if it would make her feel safe and comforted like it did for Emily and Grady. Sarah was used to being alone.

But I’m lonely and alone. I think I might want what Grady and Emily have, but I don’t really understand it.

She was content here in Amesport, and she had friends for the first time in her life. She was learning to talk about small things that were important to the people in the community instead of constantly trying to analyze major scientific debates. Surprisingly, she found talking to normal people incredibly fascinating and satisfying. Sometimes talking about emotions was a lot more interesting than scientific theories. It was certainly more educational, because she knew next to nothing about mental states except for loneliness and the sorrow she saw every day as a doctor. Right now her lack of understanding was frustrating because it made it even harder to quite get a fix on what was happening with the handsome Detective Sinclair.

Somehow, she’d imagined that Dante Sinclair would share some similarities with Grady, but after their brief, tumultuous meeting, she couldn’t find very many. They shared the same dark hair and some facial features, and they were both large, very well-built men. But while Grady was mostly a brilliant, quiet computer geek with a generous heart, Dante was surly and aggressive. Granted, the guy had just been through a horrific experience, but Dante nearly vibrated with a stubborn belligerence that Sarah was fairly positive was an inherent part of his personality. Maybe in better times he wasn’t quite so surly, but she was willing to bet he could be obstinate and unyielding, even when he wasn’t stressed.

He’s a homicide detective in Los Angeles, in the district with the highest rate of annual murders. Maybe it’s that bullheadedness that keeps him alive.

It made sense. Obviously, Dante and Grady had lived completely different adult lives. They were bound to have formed different personalities, different ways of dealing with things.

She’d believed Dante when he said he hadn’t meant for her to get hurt. Remorse had flashed in those gorgeous hazel eyes of his for just a moment when she’d been ready to walk out the door. Dante Sinclair was angry at the world right now for taking away his partner and friend. She had just happened to be standing close to him when he snapped.

Sarah sighed, wishing there had been more she could have done to help Dante. He was her patient, Emily’s brother-in-law, and Grady’s brother. Hopefully, his family could help him emotionally more than she could.