Taken by Storm (13 page)

“Wait,” Rachael said, snapping out of her stupor and stopping in the driveway. “We need to tell Maddie goodbye.”

Enzo stepped out from the doorway. “Mr. Simcoe said she left early this morning.”

Maddie left for Michigan without getting her ring? The thought made MJ’s chest clench. How would she explain that to Talan—what a stupid name—unless she decided to keep it?

When she came for her ring, he’d planned on finally getting the truth about why she left him. She wasn’t supposed
to bolt. What the hell was it with Maddie always running from him?

MJ pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. It rang once, twice. He scuffed his foot on the concrete. Three times. Her voice mail picked up.

Even though it made him feel uneasy and sick to his stomach, he had to move on without her. She wasn’t coming back to him. No going backward, only forward.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket without leaving a message and turned to Rachael. “Let’s go.”

Merrick took them to breakfast before dropping them off at the airport. The three of them sat in a tight booth in a hole-in-the-wall diner just outside of Sandy Springs. The scenario felt a little too instant family for him. Even though he was coming around to the fact that his dad was here and in his life, being with Merrick and Rachael would take a little time to get used to.

Merrick leaned forward and tapped his fingertips on the table, eyeing MJ. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s your favorite food? Favorite movie? Sport? Tell me everything. I know nothing about you.”

MJ took a long sip of his orange juice. “Um… I like all food. I guess Italian is my favorite.
The Matrix
is probably my favorite movie, but
Caddyshack
is a close second.”

Merrick smiled. “Mine too, right behind the Godfather movies.”

“I play baseball. Or, I did. Not anymore.” MJ bit the inside of his cheek.

“College ball?” Merrick asked.

“Yeah. GSU.”

“What position?”

“Catcher.”

“Why don’t you play anymore? Injury?” Merrick tilted his head, concerned.

“Fight. Got kicked off the team.”

His dad sat back laughing. “Poor kid. You are like me. Stupid and impulsive, aren’t you?”

MJ let out a snort of laughter. “You could say that.”

Merrick shook his head. “Seems to be an inherited Rocha trait. Sorry you got it.”

“It goes with the dimples,” Rachael said, placing her fingertip in Merrick’s.

“Where did he hide you?” Merrick said, his eyes narrowed on MJ. “My father.”

MJ took a deep breath and leaned back in the booth. “As far back as I can remember, I was at a year-round boarding school in Virginia. I remember some woman I called Nona when I was really little. I guess she must’ve taken care of me. I didn’t see her after I started school. I don’t have any pictures of her or anything. After third grade, the Old Man let me stay at the estate over the summers. Probably wanted to save himself some cash. God knows he didn’t want me there.”

“I was away at college,” Merrick said. “Jesus, he played us like a game of chess, moving us around the board so we
never crossed paths.” He sighed, and looking a little lost turned to Rachael.

She stroked her thumb across his creased forehead and cupped his cheek. Merrick smiled and kissed her. “I don’t deserve you.”

“When did you find out he was coming here?” MJ asked Rachael. He nodded to Merrick. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I told her the first night she was at the Rocha Estate,” Merrick said. “I had some business to wrap up in Miami. I asked her not to mention my plan to you.”

“We didn’t want you to take off,” Rachael said. “I don’t know you, MJ. I wasn’t sure how you’d react if I told you Merrick was coming.”

MJ’s knee bobbed under the table.

“I didn’t want you to take off before I got there,” Merrick said. “I lived the past twenty years not knowing you, believing you’d died. I have a lot of time to make up for.”

If words had a size and shape, Merrick’s would’ve been the Grand Canyon. MJ had waited for those words his entire life. Waited for Merrick to be told about him. To come find him.

“I wouldn’t have taken off,” MJ said. “I have time to make up for too.”

Merrick’s hands clenched his coffee cup. “Your grandfather will pay for this.” His dark granite eyes met MJ’s in a silent promise.

Rachael put a hand on Merrick’s forearm. “Revenge isn’t the answer.”

“No,” Merrick said, agreeing. “Revenge only brings more loss, more desperation. But men like Enzo always pay in the end. I don’t know how it’ll happen, but it will. He won’t get away with everything he’s done.”

After breakfast, Merrick dropped them off at the airport. Standing beside the car, he kissed Rachael goodbye. “I don’t think I should leave you here,” she told him. MJ tried not to listen, but didn’t want to walk away without telling Merrick goodbye.

“I didn’t want you here in the first place,” Merrick told her. There was a harsh edge to his voice that let MJ know he wasn’t pleased with Rachael for coming. “I let that discussion go though,” Merrick said, “given the fact that you were here for MJ.”

“And the fact that you never told me about him,” Rachael said, an equal amount of cool reserve in her tone. “I let that go. For now. We’ll come back around to it though. Don’t worry.”

“Two discussions tabled for now.” Merrick wove his fingers into Rachael’s hair and cupped her head, guiding her in for another kiss. “I’ll be home soon.”

“You better be.” Rachael wrapped her arms around Merrick and held him tightly for a moment before stepping away.

Merrick reached out and shook MJ’s hand while patting him on the back. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. This shouldn’t take more than a few days to finish up.”

The sincerity in Merrick’s eyes filled MJ with something
he couldn’t identify. A feeling he’d never had before. His dad would be there for him. “I’ll see you then.”

Merrick rounded the car and got in behind the wheel. Rachael and MJ watched him drive away before they turned and began rolling their bags through the parking lot toward the airport terminal.

Leaving Sandy Springs, MJ fingered the ring in his pocket with only one regret: losing his last connection to Maddie.

There was no way the man stalking toward them across the tarmac could fly the helicopter behind him. Not that MJ was judgmental, but he’d believe this guy could lift the helicopter before he could fly it. With his blond ponytail, scruffy face and piercing stare, he might have been the only person MJ would think twice about throwing a fist at.

“Beck!” Rachael grabbed the man in a bear hug. “How’s everything on the island?”

“Taken care of. You look good.” Beck held her at arm’s length and looked her over.

“Thanks,” Rachael said.

Rachael took a deep breath and smiled, turning to MJ. “Beck, this is–”

“Jesus,” Beck said, chuckling, “you don’t have to tell me who this is. Looks like his twin.” Beck grabbed MJ’s hand and pumped it up and down while patting him on the back. “I didn’t know Merrick had a brother.”

“He doesn’t,” MJ said. “I’m his son.”

Beck’s eyes widened. “Oh. What’s your name?”

“MJ. Nice to meet you. Beck, right?”

“That’s me.”

Rachael stepped forward, standing beside them. “Beck does pretty much everything at Turtle Tear. And he flies that thing.” She pointed to the black helicopter. “I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

Beck smiled and put his hands on his hips. “Job security.” He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “And you’re like a sister. A sister who hates my girlfriend, but that’s normal, right?”

Rachael rolled her eyes at him with an insufferable look on her face. “We get along just fine now that she’s spoken for and not after Merrick. So as long as you keep her to yourself—no worries.” She smiled, and squeezed Beck’s bulky arm.

MJ glanced down at his own bicep and resisted the urge to flex. Without baseball, he’d have to hit the gym more often to keep his muscle. He’d like to work out by lifting Maddie against the wall a few more times.

There went his mind again, wandering off to Maddie and their past. At this rate, he’d need a lobotomy to forget her.

“It’s hotter than Hell standing here on this tarmac. Let’s get out of here.” Beck took Rachael’s bag and reached for MJ’s.

“I got it, thanks,” MJ said. He didn’t need a man-servant or whatever this guy probably was to his… to Merrick.

Beck smacked him on the back. “You’re a little stand-offish,
I can tell. Just like your dad was until this one,” he pointed to Rachael, “took the stick out of his ass. I expect she’ll do the same with you.”

Did this guy really just say MJ had a stick up his ass? What-the-fuck-ever. A chip on his shoulder, sure. Of course there was a big fucking chip on his shoulder, but a stick up his ass?

He curbed the urge to plant a fist in Beck’s face. The last thing he needed was a ride back to the Old Man’s house and more harassment about becoming an MMA fighter, which really wasn’t that bad of an idea.

Rachael sat in the front of the helicopter beside Beck, and MJ strapped his harness on in the seat behind her. They wore headsets to talk to one another over the whipping roar of the propellers.

MJ gripped the seat beneath him with sweaty hands. He didn’t even like riding roller coasters. The last time he flew, he was drunk. Being in a metal pod with rotating blades keeping them in the air wasn’t exactly his preferred method of travel. Guess when you’re going to a secluded island there wasn’t much of a choice in the method of getting there.

The helicopter lurched up and forward. “Here we go,” Beck said, pulling back on the gear stick, or whatever it was that looked like it should be part of an arcade game. MJ’s stomach rolled.

Don’t puke, he thought over and over in his head. Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke. “How long is this flight
anyway?” God, the rasp in his voice even sounded like he was going to puke.

“About an hour. You okay back there?” Beck turned his head and glanced back at him. “Uh oh. I think someone’s afraid of flying, Rachael.”

“I’m not afraid of flying.” He was afraid of heights. Deathly afraid of heights. Or the falling from heights to be more accurate.

“You’re white as a ghost.” Rachael reached back and squeezed his knee. “Just take deep breaths and close your eyes.”

“I can’t close my eyes. The motion makes me sick if I close my eyes.”

“Okay. Okay,” she said. “How about looking straight out the window? You can’t see down below, just blue. Pretend it’s the ocean and you’re standing on the beach. The motion you feel is from the waves pulling in and out under your feet.”

He nodded his head frantically, blowing out a deep breath. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. God, he hoped this worked.

The beach. Put yourself on the beach. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, keeping his eyes straight ahead and focused on the clear, baby blue sky.

Blue like Maddie’s eyes. She’d look amazing in her bikini beside him on the beach. In the ocean. Laughing in the waves.

Shit. Maddie. Lobotomy.

“Doing okay?” Beck asked through the headphones.

“Fine.” As long as he wasn’t about to pass out, he guessed thinking about Maddie for an hour would be okay.