She pulled on a pair of gray sweats and a clingy white baby-doll T-shirt, and went downstairs in search of something a tad stronger than water. A bottle of chardonnay squatted on the shelf behind the milk, just waiting to take the edge off a day like this one.
Five minutes later, Cori was sipping a cool glass of wine and swaying to Norah Jones drifting from the stereo in the living room, when the doorbell rang. Frowning, she used the remote to turn down the volume, and went to look through the peephole.
Her hackles went straight up, every female cell in her body on the defense as she opened the door to greet her visitor.
“Hey,” she said warily. “This is a surprise.”
Zack lost himself in the tactile pleasure of cutting the treated boards, the deafening whine of his table saw. The pungent smell of raw wood, the satisfaction that he was creating something to last for decades.
For Cori.
Why did he have to lose control like that? He’d screwed up. He knew no woman could fake such intense passion, knew she’d loved the hell out of his taking charge. But who was the guy who’d fucked her senseless against the bathroom wall? Problem was, he had no clue.
This shit was all new to him. The intense feelings, sharing, developing a relationship.
Falling in love.
Insane jealousy.
The fear that he wasn’t good enough for Cori, and never would be.
He didn’t know himself. Today, he hated the emotions scraping him bloody inside. The sooner he told her the truth, the better. Hell, she might not even believe what he told her about Joaquin. Might go so far as to throw him out. He’d be alone, like before—
No, he corrected himself. Much worse than before. Because he’d tasted what it meant to belong to a woman, for her to belong to him. He’d felt the first stirrings of real hope he’d ever had in his life that
maybe
someone might love him in return.
Made no difference. He had no right to postpone their talk any longer.
He tripped the OFF switch with his foot. His earplugs filtered the worst of the noise, and with the machine winding down, he couldn’t hear a thing. Pushing his safety goggles on top of his head, he inspected his work, then laid the board aside.
Without warning, a prickle teased the back of his neck. The weird sensation of another presence. Close. Turning, he caught movement from the corner of his eye.
Just as a two-by-four swung toward his face. Pain detonated in his skull and his knees buckled. He hit the concrete floor, tasted sawdust in his mouth. Blood.
Cori!
God, neither of them had anticipated an attack in broad daylight. He had to stay conscious. Had to get up and stop this bastard . . . With an effort born of desperation, he pushed to his hands and knees.
Another blow to his head shattered his hold on consciousness, spun him into darkness. He was vaguely aware of shuffling footsteps. A strange hissing noise.
And then the light in his brain winked out.
Lionel stood panting, glaring down at the prone man on the shop floor. Not dead, but Knight would be in minutes. Shit, if he’d known killing would give him such a hard-on, he’d have done it years ago.
How to finish him? He glanced to the saw and thought it might be poetic to cut Knight’s throat with his own blades. But that was messy and he didn’t want to be covered in blood when he left. Same reason he didn’t use his gun—taking a man out with a rifle and a scope was different from walking up, shooting him in the head, and getting his brains all over you.
Casting about, his attention fell on the ancient gas heater on the floor a few feet away. Cheery flames danced inside, warding off the chill in the shop.
Perfect. After the shooting, the authorities would question whether Knight’s death was an accident, but what could they prove? For all they knew, he’d become dizzy, hit his head, and fallen unconscious, succumbing to his fate.
Lionel performed his task, smiling. Hurrying, he exited the shop and peered around the corner, toward the house.
“What the fuck?”
Impotent rage blinded him, boiled in his veins. The slut had a visitor! He could try to jump them, but he had no idea how many people had arrived or whether they were male or female. Sonofabitch! He’d have to wait until the guests left, or come back later.
He looked back at Knight and some of the anger calmed. At least he’d removed this obstacle.
One down, one to go.
Cori showed Eve Marshall into the living room, instantly on guard but determined to be polite to Zack’s friend. From the woman’s stiff posture and combatant, pale gaze, Cori knew she hadn’t been imagining the chill in Eve’s attitude toward her since they’d met.
Not a comforting realization. Cori instinctively knew this woman would make anyone a formidable enemy—or the most loyal friend. There was a confidence in her stride, a proud tilt to her head, and a glitter in that odd gaze hinting Eve had fought tooth and nail for every good thing in her life. And to keep them, she’d gladly kick ass and take names again.
Cori faced Eve, wishing the woman didn’t look so damned
together
, her trim, athletic build flattered by dark jeans, snazzy boots, and a black leather blazer. Dark, curly hair with reddish highlights framed her striking, bronzed face and tumbled unbound to her shoulders.
“This is a nice surprise,” Cori said in a friendly tone. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks. I’m not staying long.” Eve’s hand clutched her purse strap in a death grip, betraying her agitation.
Oh, boy. Whatever this is about, it’s just what I needed today.
“In that case, I’ll call Zack in from the shop. I know he’ll be thrilled to see you.” She turned to go, but Eve’s flat voice halted her.
“Actually, I’m glad he’s busy. I’d like to speak with you first.”
Bristling, Cori faced Eve, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table. “Sounds dire. Look, if this is about the shooting, I don’t know what to say to make you feel more comfortable about Zack’s safety—”
“That’s not why I’m here. I’m worried about the attempt, of course, but I’m also concerned about his mental well-being.” Eve took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “Zack has a big heart and if you broke it, sister, I’d take that personally.”
Cori crossed her arms over her chest, anger starting to bubble. “So you do have feelings for him. Well, I’m sorry he doesn’t reciprocate them, but that doesn’t give you the right to barge in here and make ultimatums.”
Eve laughed, not a happy sound. “I don’t have a thing for Zack, not like you mean. He’s my best friend, my
brother
. We look out for each other, and that includes serving notice if I think he’s being taken for a ride.”
Cori stared at her. “Am I supposed to decipher that? If you’re making an accusation, then come out with it.”
“You really don’t know,” she mused, frowning. “Zack still hasn’t told you.”
“Told me
what
? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She gestured in the air with frustration. “We’ve done nothing but support each other from the day we met! He’s a wonderful man, and I don’t care that he’s fallen on financial hard times.”
“Really? Even if
you’re
the one responsible?” Eve fired back harshly, vibrating with outrage.
Cori’s mouth fell open. Clearly, the woman had lost it. “That’s completely ridiculous. Since I met Zack, he hasn’t had a penny for me to take.” Shoot, that sounded awful when she’d only been trying to defend herself, but Eve interrupted before she could explain.
“Of course he didn’t,” Eve hissed, advancing on her. “You’ve got every damned thing he loved in the palm of your hand! Take a good look around you—tell me what you see.”
“I don’t . . .” A suspicion began to form. One too horrible to be true.
Eve stopped less than a foot away, well inside her personal space. “Sure, you do. You’re a smart lady. Work it out.”
A series of recollections flooded her mind, unwelcome.
Zack, his temper exploding in the hospital, the phone in pieces.
Standing in the foyer when he first arrived here. Pale and shell-shocked.
How he’d known where items in the kitchen were located without being told.
His slip at the dinner table, almost calling the shop his.
The shop he obviously loved and knew his way around very well.
“No,” Cori whispered. “Zack would’ve said something to me.”
“And what exactly should he have told you? That while he was living off peanut butter, you were happily nesting in the house he’d labored with his own two hands to make into a home?”
The blood left her head in a dizzying rush, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. No wonder Zack wouldn’t talk to her. He’d been protecting her—again. And she’d raked him over the coals for his trouble. “I . . . It can’t be true.”
“Zack has serious class, always thinking of others before himself. He didn’t want any of us to know. But you—” Eve jabbed a finger at the center of Cori’s chest. “I have difficulty believing you had no idea this was Zack’s home when you purchased it. How could you
not
know?”
“I didn’t have any idea,” she insisted, shaking her head. “The house was a gift from my brother. . . . Oh, no.”
Eve’s dark brows furrowed. “What?”
Oh, sweet heaven. In an instant, she understood. The nice, tidy world she thought she’d created was now turned upside down, tainted by her brother’s cruel manipulations.
But that was nothing compared with what he’d done to Zack.
The shame was almost beyond bearing. “My brother did this to him. Zack must’ve ended up owing him money, but how? Joaquin lives outside Atlantic City and he’s only visited me twice since I moved to Sugarland. How would they have met?”
“So, you honestly don’t know what the hell happened?” she pressed.
“Of course not! I—I care for Zack a great deal, and I’d never intentionally hurt him. Believe whatever you want, but I’m telling the truth.”
Eve paused, then nodded. “All right. Zack insisted you had no part in whatever trouble he’s in, but I had to hear it from you.”
“You believe me?”
“I do,” she said, the ice thawing. “I know sincerity when I hear it. We’re just all stumped by how an intelligent man like Zack got into such a bad fix.”
“I propose we get some answers. He’s struggled alone with this long enough, don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely. He’s going to give us some answers whether he wants to or not.” Reaching out, she squeezed Cori’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I apologize. When it comes to people I care about, I tend to go overboard, and Zack’s special. We’re cool?”
Cori smiled. “Yes, he is. And we’re cool.”
I’m going to cut off Joaquin’s highly valued testicles. He’s going to scream like a little girl for what he’s done.
They headed outside together, and Eve wasted no time getting right to the point. “You love Zack.”
“I’m not very good at hiding my emotions, am I?”
“No more than I am.”
“Not at all, then.” They shared a quiet laugh, and Cori decided to probe a bit. “What about you? Got a terrific man in your life?”
Eve’s face grew pensive. Wistful. “Hardly. I tend to make rotten choices. Divorced the first one after I caught him screwing one of my good friends. The second is nursing his own broken heart and doesn’t know I exist—as a woman anyway.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s fine. I sort of brought up the subject.”
Cori sympathized with her pain. Nobody knew about poor choices better than she did.
They reached the shop and Cori halted outside the door, which was open the barest crack. “He made me promise to knock,” she explained. “He’s working on a surprise for me.”
“Oh? The boy’s got it bad, huh?”
Cori grinned. “I hope so.” Raising a fist, she rapped on the door. “Hey, Zack? Eve’s here. Can we come in?”
They stood for a few seconds, but no response drifted from inside. There was only the rustle of the breeze in the bare branches nearby. No shrill racket from his saw, hammering, or grinding of the tool he called a planer.
“Zack, we’ve got company!”
All was silent. A strange expression settled on Eve’s face. “What’s that smell?”
She sniffed the air. “I don’t—wait. Is that . . . gas?”
With a vicious curse, Eve burst through the entrance to the shop, slamming the door hard against the inside wall. Cori rushed in on her heels, overwhelmed by the noxious odor of gas hanging in the shop. Thick and deadly.
“Zack!” Cori yelled.
“Over here!”
Eve rounded a table saw and squatted between the large piece of machinery and the workbench. Cori skidded to a halt behind her, gasping at the sight of Zack lying prone on the floor. Blood trickled from under his hairline, down his left temple, and across his nose.