The Stranger. Kathleen O'Brien
of indignation. As if Roddy, with his muscles and his millions, would ever need to buy sex from anyone! She put her hand on his arm, instinctively protective, though he obviously had no need of protection from Tyler or any man.
Tyler saw the touch. She felt the flick of his eyes like the tip-touch of a whip. Yes, she told him with her own gaze. I was lonely back then, and you played me for a fool. Yes, I wanted to trust you. I even wanted to kiss you. But he’s the one I’m kissing now.
Roddy must have felt the currents of tension, but with his usual composure he took her hand and, holding it, he rose and held out his other hand to Tyler.
“No, we never met,” he said, grinning. “You were in Heyday looking for secrets, and frankly I haven’t got any. With me, what you see is what you get.”
Tyler’s focus fell slowly to Roddy’s ridiculous skirt. It barely skimmed his knees.
“So it would seem,” Tyler said. “If only that were true of everyone, my job would be a whole lot easier.”
He smiled when he spoke the words, but Mallory couldn’t help thinking the comment had been directed at her. She hugged her purse to her side and smiled right back.
She wasn’t afraid of him. She had the money she needed. She would buy the blackmailer’s silence for another couple of weeks.
And during that time, somehow she’d find a way to keep her little sister’s name out of this son of a bitch’s sleazy book.
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO HOURS SPENT in the company of Kieran and Bryce McClintock only confirmed what Tyler had suspected about his “family.”
They were nuts.
First, Kieran had been sitting at the country club bar with a guy wearing a miniskirt, which apparently they had arranged for the express—and somewhat juvenile—purpose of annoying a balding guy who came in later wearing neon-green pants. If you asked Tyler, it was a toss-up who looked stupider, the guy in drag or Mr. Greenpants, who began sputtering convulsively the minute he caught a glimpse of the skirt.
Now, though the three of them had arrived at the Valley Pride real estate offices and were trying to review an offer Kieran wanted to make on one of Tyler’s properties, they kept getting interrupted. Apparently every single tenant insisted on seeing the McClintock brothers personally, about everything from busted sewer pipes to leaky window caulking.
If Tyler had run this ship, he would have fired Elton Fletcher, the prissy pencil pusher at the front desk, who clearly didn’t want to get his hair mussed by tangling with the clients. None of these lunatics should ever have made it past the first pair of double doors.
Especially not this new one, a fifty-something, wild-eyed tenant named Mrs. Milligan, who had entered ranting five minutes ago, and, as far as Tyler could tell, hadn’t drawn a breath yet.
She seemed to focus her wrath on Bryce, and was leaning over him, wagging her finger in his face.
“And if you think you can scare me just because you have a reputation for shooting anyone who crosses you, you’re quite mistaken, my boy. I’ve got a Doberman who’s been waiting a long time for a nice dish of McClintock stew. He’d have you by the throat before you could get your finger on the trigger.”
Bryce looked over at Kieran with a tilted smile. “Is that really my new reputation? Gunslinger? What happened to the trashy man-slut thing? I think I liked that one better.”
Kieran shrugged. “Now you’ve got both. Congratulations.”
Bryce sighed and returned his gaze to the wild woman standing over him. “I don’t shoot women, Mrs. Milligan. Not unless they’re coming right for me. It’s just that you’ve had two and a half years of living rent-free—”
She drew herself erect, in clear offence. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Yeah. I know. Your sister was kidnapped, and you had to pay the ransom. Your dog needed extensive psychiatric help.” Bryce shot a quick look at Kieran, but somehow both of them managed to keep straight faces. “So what is it this month?”
“It’s…it’s classified.” She pursed her lips and lifted her chin haughtily. “If I told you, good men would die.”
Kieran made a strange sound, but he quickly buried his head in a file and wouldn’t look at anyone. Bryce sighed again, shut his eyes and put his hand up to massage his forehead.
While both of them were distracted, Mrs. Milligan turned abruptly to Tyler and gave him an unmistakable wink, a theatrical expression so broad it screwed up one entire half of her face.
The old scamp! This was just a game to her. Tyler wondered if the McClintock brothers knew that, or whether they really thought she was insane.
Without thinking, Tyler winked back. And then Bryce opened his eyes. Smiling, Mrs. Milligan returned to staring him down.
“Well?”
“Well,” Bryce said slowly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to actually die.”
“That’s what I thought.” She picked up her purse. “You have enough blood on your hands already, don’t you?”
Bryce held his palms up, obviously outmatched. “Yes,” he said. “I mean, no. I mean…forget about the rent, Mrs. Milligan. If the time ever comes that you’re in a position to pay, you know where to send the check.”
“Of course I do.” She turned from the doorway. “But don’t hold your breath.”
When she was gone, both brothers leaned back in their chairs, shaking their heads and chuckling.
Kieran turned to Tyler. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize she’d be here today. Wouldn’t you just know it? After we waited all this time for you to get here, I had hoped—” He dropped the file on the desk. “We certainly can’t be making a very good impression on you, can we?”
“This is how it is,” Bryce said dryly. “This is life in Heyday. Tyler might as well know that from the get-go. That way, if he decides to run for his life, he can at least get a head start.”
“Run?” Kieran’s face sobered. “Surely you’re not leaving right away, are you? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
Tyler took a moment to frame his answer. He was eager to liquidate his inheritance and get out of here. He’d spent the past week visiting his new holdings, working with Elton Fletcher, the front-desk neatnik, and a real estate agent he’d brought in from Richmond.
Things didn’t look promising. Though months ago he’d left instructions to sell anything at almost any price, so far he’d been able to dispose of only two properties. Some guy named Slip-something who owned a bar just outside the city limits had wanted to expand, so he’d bought the Black and White Lounge. And now Kieran wanted one of Tyler’s empty lots by the river.
At this rate Tyler would be free in about, oh, ten years.
Too bad he didn’t have more empty lots. They’d be a lot easier to unload. This town, with its circus fetish, was just too kitschy for words, and the architecture was a nightmare. He had one lovely plot at the edge of town, but the house on it had been designated a historical building. He wasn’t allowed to pull down the ridiculous ringmaster statue by the front gate or replace the hideous stained-glass windows depicting leaping zebras.
“Maybe you could give it a little time,” Kieran said. “Believe it or not, Heyday kind of…grows on you.”
God forbid. Tyler shifted his feet, as if he could already feel weeds and vines trying to wrap themselves around him, rooting him to this eccentric little backwater.
Still, Bryce and Kieran seemed to love the place, and there was no need to be callous. They weren’t such bad guys, actually. They clearly wanted to reach out to him, which was a little awkward. He’d dodged their phone calls