O'Neil Brothers: High Stakes Part 13

"Your family didnt support you?"

"Of course they did. The guys and Bay, especially. And so did Ma and Pa, the ultimate Catholics, when they calmed down. But we all value their opinions, want their approval, even now. I swear I knock myself out to stay on their good side. Aidan didnt pursue photography for a long time because Pa disapproved."

"Ive seen his photos. Theyre exquisite."

"I know. I think Liam was the only one who never felt he disappointed them. Hes a saint."

Dylan liked the laugh that escaped her. "He probably wouldnt appreciate you calling him that."

"Nope. He and Aidan had a knock-down, drag-out when Liam wouldnt go after Sophie. I think Aidan called him St. Liam of the Perpetual Grimace. I picked it up later on."

Amus.e.m.e.nt made her eyes sparkle like the stones she wore around her neck and at her wrists. "Becca and I never fought. I think she sensed how much I needed her support." Rachel raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Shes the only person Ive let get close."

"Even men?"

"Yeah. We talked about that."

"I-"

A phone buzzed in the little black purse on the table. "I have to get that. Im called when theres breaking news."

"Go ahead."

Fis.h.i.+ng out her cell, she clicked on. "Rachel Scott." A pause. "Kammy, honey, calm down. I cant understand what youre saying." Another pause. "What? Why did you go there?" A longer pause. "Listen to me. Get in the corner of the building, between the fire escape and the wall. You wont be seen." More waiting. "Are you there? Im coming to get you." She disconnected. "I have to go."

"So I heard. Where?"

Shed slid off the stool. "I, um, somewhere. I have to call Sam." She started to punch in numbers then stopped and stuffed her phone into her purse. "d.a.m.n, hes across town, with his family. I told him not to wait. But I dont want her to be out there alone."

Understanding the gist that someone needed her, Dylan stood, too. "Come on, Ill take you. I have my car."

That she didnt argue about letting him drive her set off his trouble radar. This was serious. She glanced around. "I dont want people to stop me as Im trying to get out of here."

He winked. "Well duck out the back."

She hesitated.

"Let me do this, Rachel. I promise I wont probe or ask any questions until the emergency is over."

"All right. Ill count on you for that."

For some reason, it warmed him to think shed trust him after their rocky relations.h.i.+p so far. But he didnt stop to a.n.a.lyze the feeling. Instead, he led her out the back of the hotel.

Please let her be okay. Please, please, please. Rachel said the silent prayer on the drive out to Brooklyn, where DanceWorks was located. Dylan-bless his heart-had kept quiet the whole way-and when he pulled up to the curb in front of the studio, Rachel bolted out the minute he stopped his car. A blast of cold air hit her in the face as she rushed to the steps, circled around them, and found Kammy huddled in the corner nook. "Oh, thank G.o.d."

"Sorry, Miss Rachel. I did a bad thing."

"We can talk about that." Rachel stared at the girl, s.h.i.+vering despite her heavy coat. "Lets get you in the car."

Pulling her out from beneath the staircase, she found Dylan standing guard, his back to them, on the sidewalk. With a clutch in her heart, she said, "Dylan."

He turned and looked from her to Kammy, surprise evident on his face. "If you want to sit in the car, Ill go across to the diner and wait for you."

"No, why dont we all go over there. We can get Kammy a drink to warm her up."

Dylan clicked the locks, took another look at her, whipped off his overcoat and slid it around Rachels shoulders, despite the shawl she wore. He led them across the icy road, opened the door to the diner, escorted them inside. "I can sit elsewhere," he told her.

"Thanks." Dylan took a chair at the counter, and Rachel accompanied the girl to a booth. When she and Kammy were situated and had ordered hot chocolate, Rachel slid Dylans coat off her shoulders.

Kammys eyes teared. "Oh, my G.o.d, you were at some fancy party."

"Which you saved me from. I didnt want to go in the first place."

The girl averted her gaze.

"Tell me what happened, Kammy."

"I...I left my house."

"At eleven at night?"

"My parents didnt know." She raised bleak eyes to Rachel. "I couldnt stand it anymore."

Rachel took in a calming breath. There were no marks on Kammys face, but her coat covered the rest of her. "Sweetie, has someone in your home hurt you?"

A puzzled expression flittered through Kammys eyes, then they widened. "Oh, no, not like you mean. n.o.body hits me."

Rachel had to tread carefully here. She wished she had more experience with children. "There are other ways to be hurt. Does anyone force you to do anything you dont want?"

Again the confused expression.

"Does anyone touch you in a way you dont want them to?"

Tears again. "No, its not like that, Miss Rachel."

Relief swamped Rachel, making her lean back in the seat. "Then, what sent you out into the night?"

"My mother and father were fighting. He lost his job a while ago. Mama had to work more hours at the hotel." Kammy ducked her head. "I was early to cla.s.s that day 'cause of it. Now she has to work more."

"Im sorry." But that didnt explain all this.

"My father got a part-time job cleaning the high school on Sat.u.r.days. My mothers starting work at six."

"Ah. So you wouldnt be able to come to dance cla.s.s." She nodded.

Rachel knew the girl loved dance, but did missing cla.s.s warrant running away? "Kammy, is this all of it?"

"Sort of. My father was yelling that us kids were a burden."

"Oh, sweetie, sometimes people say things when theyre mad that they dont mean. Being out of work is hard for a man. Im sure your dad is just frustrated."

Her eyes lightened. "You think so?"

"I do. As a matter of fact, theyre probably frantic that youre missing."

"They went to bed. They dont know Im gone."

"I have to take you home, Kammy."

Kammy shrugged. "I know."

"Let me go talk to my friend while you finish your hot chocolate." Reaching out, she squeezed the girls hand. "This is going to work out, Kammy."

"But I cant come to dance. I cant see you."

"I promise I wont let that happen."

Rachel crossed the room to Dylan. His head was down, he was reading the newspaper, and a steaming cup of coffee sat before him. He turned when she touched his shoulder. "She okay?" he asked softly.

"Shes upset. Thank G.o.d it isnt any kind of abuse."

"Whew!"

"Look, I know I owe you an explanation, but can we take Kammy home first?"

"Of course."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of the apartment building where the girl lived. The outside was white brick-clean-and the sidewalks were shoveled and clear. From the backseat, Kammy asked, "Can I just sneak in, Miss Rachel?"

"No, sweetie. Im sorry, you cant."

"I guess I couldnt, anyway. I dont have a key, and the door to our apartment locks when somebody leaves."

Rachel reached for the door handle. Dylan got out the other side. Kammy climbed from the back. "Well only be a minute."

"Sorry, Rach," he said firmly. "Im not letting you walk into a dark building at almost midnight alone."

She still had his coat wrapped around her. "Dylan, I-"

He touched her lips. "Shh. Its a deal breaker."

Oh, what did it matter, anyway?

The man who answered the door after three knocks was big and burly, with bed hair and a scowl on his face. Shed met only Kammys mother, not him. "Who-?" He looked down "Kammy, what-?" He eyed Dylan and Rachel. "Whats going on here?"

"Your daughter snuck out of the house tonight," Rachel told him. "She got scared and called me. Im Rachel Scott, her dance teacher."

Rachel was again relieved when the man hunkered down and gently grasped Kammy by the shoulders. "Little one, why did you do all this?"

"Perhaps we can come inside," Rachel suggested. "Kammy can explain everything."

Seated on a white leather couch, Dylan watched Rachel pour them both a drink from a liquor cabinet where she stood by the window. The room was all white, except for splashes of blues and greens on throw pillows and paintings. A faint tinge of her perfume hung in the air. The night of the wedding, he was so anxious to get to her, he didnt remember anything about the place.

Dylan knew he could have been gallant and told her she didnt have to explain tonight to him. Actually, hed tried to refrain from asking about the girl. But something drove him to insist. Shed invited him up here because... Well, he didnt know why.

Handing him a rock gla.s.s, half full of whiskey, holding one for herself, she sat across from him on another white couch and took a sip. Man, she still looked gorgeous in that dress, the jewels, and though her hair was windblown by now, it was s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. Dangerous thoughts, he knew, but he couldnt help himself.

Without preamble, she said, "I teach a dance cla.s.s in Brooklyn for underprivileged kids. Mike and Becca helped me identify the girls and find a studio."

He nodded for her to continue.

"And yes, I dont charge them for cla.s.ses or dance attire."

"Thats very generous of you."

She raked back her hair, messing it even more. "Becca and I had so much, growing up."

"And you want to pay it forward. Thats good, Rach. It says a lot about you."

Her eyes flashed. "This is all personal, Dylan. You have to keep it to yourself."

"G.o.d forbid I tell anybody you do good work."

Her top teeth came out to bite her lip, devoid of color now. Desire sliced through him.

Though hed pieced together some things from the conversation shed had with the girls parents, he didnt know the background. So he asked, "What happened with Kammy?"

"Her dad lost his job, so her mother had to go to work full time. He just got some janitorial position on Sat.u.r.days, but both parents have an early schedule. So no one can get her to cla.s.s." Shed crossed her legs, giving him a great view, and now her foot bobbed impatiently. "Shes also upset because her parents are fighting; the tension in the house must be awful. When she heard she couldnt go to dance cla.s.s, she snuck out of the house."

"And went to you." Rachel nodded. "That speaks highly of your relations.h.i.+p with the girls. How many are there?"

"Eight. I could have more in the room, but this year, thats all we could get."

"This year? How long have you been offering the cla.s.s?"

Rachel shrugged. "A while."

Sitting back, he sipped the very smooth liquor, enjoying its tart taste. He took his time, trying to a.s.semble all the pieces of the puzzle that were Rachel Scott. The result was turning out to be multidimensional and...appealing.

At his silence, embarra.s.sment tinged her cheeks, making them even pinker. "Its not a big deal. Only a few hours one morning."

"Sounds like its a big deal for those eight little girls."

"I guess."