Texas Love Song
AlTonya Washington
They both mean business—in the boardroom and the bedroom Setha Melendez will do anything for her family. When an explosive scandal threatens those she loves most, her protector turns out to be the rival she least expected: publishing magnate Khouri Ross of the Ross Review. And Setha knows it’s only a matter of time before their two fierce, powerful families collide.With multimillion-dollar contracts at stake, neither family is willing to back down. It’s going to take the cool-headed Khouri and Setha to find a middle ground. Problem is, just being near each other spikes their desire to the boiling point. Khouri can’t resist letting Setha get under his skin.With her passionate touch and free spirit, the sexy heiress has a straight shot to his heart. Now that she’s his, he won’t let her go. Not for business, not for family. And especially not for the unknown danger targeting her. Lone Star Seduction Secret passions. Hidden betrayals. Deep in the heart of Texas.
They both mean business—in the boardroom and the bedroom
Setha Melendez will do anything for her family. When an explosive scandal threatens those she loves most, her protector turns out to be the one she least expected: publishing magnate Khouri Ross of the Ross Review. And Setha knows it’s only a matter of time before their two fierce, powerful families collide.
With multimillion-dollar contracts at stake, neither family is willing to back down. It’s going to take the coolheaded Khouri and Setha to find a middle ground. Problem is, just being near each other spikes their desire to the boiling point.
Khouri can’t resist letting Setha get under his skin. With her passionate touch and free spirit, the sexy heiress has a straight shot to his heart. Now that she’s his, he won’t let her go. Not for business, not for family. And especially not for the unknown danger targeting her.
“I never eat when I get on a cooking kick.”
“Well, hell, that’s no fun. Come out with me.”
“No, I um…no.” She couldn’t decide whether she wanted her hands in or out of the denim capris she sported.
“Is that because there’s someone you’re trying not to upset?”
She opened the refrigerator door and then closed it. “There’s no one.”
“Does he know that?”
Setha blinked and turned from the refrigerator to study him curiously. “What are you talking about?”
Khouri maintained his spot along the counter. “You’re starting to offend me. Turning down all my invitations.”
She resumed wiping down the countertops, starting with the one nearest him. “You’ll get over it,” she grumbled.
“Don’t be so sure,” he said, moving from the counter and turning her against it.
He’d moved so quickly, she’d barely had time to register the change in her position. The only thing registering then was his mouth on hers. He delivered the kiss thoroughly, enticing her tongue into the sultriest of duels. Infrequently, he curved his tongue over and around hers and then traced the even ridge of her teeth, which coaxed her to do the same to him.
“What are you doing?” She barely formed the words when he finally let her up for air.
“Giving you what you wanted earlier.”
ALTONYA WASHINGTON
has been a published romance novelist of contemporary and historical fiction for eight years. Her novel Finding Love Again won the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Multicultural Romance in 2004. In addition to teaching a community-college course entitled Writing the Romance Novel, she works as a senior library assistant, resides in North Carolina and is currently working to obtain her master’s in library science. Writing as T. Onyx, AlTonya releases erotic romance. Her latest release with the Harlequin/Kimani label was the January 2012 title Pleasure After Hours. She will release the twelfth installment in her popular Ramsey/Tesano series, A Lover’s Hate, in 2012.
Texas Love Song
AlTonya Washington
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
You’ve decided to embark upon a mystery and witness the unfolding of a romance. Texas Love Song is a fitting title for this story. The relationship between Khouri Ross and Setha Melendez was crafted to possess the beauty, longing and desire of the ballads we adore. Khouri and Setha come into each other’s lives amid dark circumstances, which are the key to a mystery that affects their families.
It was challenging and rewarding to craft a complex suspense within the allure of a love story. Those of you who know my work know that I delight in mixing these elements. It was also very exciting and quite fitting to create larger-than-life characters who hail from the bold state of Texas. I hope you’ll enjoy the effort and tune in for its companion piece, His Texas Touch, in August. Please email your thoughts to altonya@lovealtonya.com.
Blessings,
Al
Love and thanks to my family for being so patient
when I spend so much time writing.
Contents
Prologue (#uaec0f7d2-68e3-5560-b077-f69a8eed3554)
Chapter 1 (#u71631176-d9dd-5eca-ad82-f33760bd6d16)
Chapter 2 (#u34549bf7-106c-5e45-b852-e845e88b5386)
Chapter 3 (#u9b564af1-be96-5c35-bfb9-e4f5efd74489)
Chapter 4 (#u41fd768f-e7d6-5f96-8113-ac68b5bbd560)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
She could’ve celebrated the loss of those killer pumps had she lost them anywhere besides a dark alley. Unfortunately, it was either lose the shoes or give herself away to the creep who’d been following her all night. She knew of course that he’d been stalking her much longer than that.
Setha Melendez gave another quick glance across her shoulder and felt momentary ease when no shadow passed in her line of sight.
Son of a b, she hissed silently, wisps of dark hair fluttering beneath her nostrils as she inhaled deeply to catch her breath. She cursed her pursuer again for involving them in this when it had nothing to do with them. None of it had been their fault.
Setha grimaced; those words sounded naive even though they’d been spoken silently in her head. There was one thing she’d learned at an early age. In the Melendez family, it was one for all and all for one. If one was despised, they all were.
Her quick breather reached its end when the clatter of a rolling bottle caught her ear. The sound had come from the far end of the alley. Setha cast a last, longing look at the awesome pumps and then figured she’d better get a move on. She prayed whoever found her discarded shoes had more fun wearing them than she did.
* * *
“Jumpin’ ship already, man?” Bose Osmond grinned at his boss’s older brother.
Khouri Ross returned the grin while shaking hands with Bose who was one of the seven bouncers at his sister’s club. “I’ll leave you and your colleagues to it,” he said, casting a weary hazel stare at the bodies packing the three-story brick building. “Never been a fan of love songs.” He shrugged.
“Understood.” Bose nodded solemnly from his perch guarding the club’s back entrance. “Rocky says she’s tryin’ to soften the club’s image.”
Khouri chuckled. “In this neighborhood?”
Bose joined in on the laughter at Raquel Ross’s expense. The chuckles shaking his large frame ended on a sigh and he scratched the smattering of whiskers covering his chin. “So how’s Avra doin’?”
“Still mean.” Khouri shook his head at the mention of his older sister.
“Still fine?” Bose’s question was laced with interest.
The look on the man’s face instilled more laughter in Khouri. Amusement crinkled the corners of his translucent stare. “You’re a glutton for punishment, B.”
Bose raised one hand as though he were about to testify. “What can I say? A woman like that can make a man do anything.”
“Hmph. Don’t I know it,” Khouri groaned while patting his sagging dark jeans for keys. It was because of Avra that he’d been checking up on their little sister and her club that night. While he was most definitely a protective older brother, he’d have rather spent the night at his monthly poker game.
“See ya around, B.” Khouri clutched Bose’s hand for a quick shake and hug, and then left through the rear VIP entrance to Rocky Ross’s.
Khouri’s phone chimed just as he approached the black Rover bearing the personalized plates carrying his first name. There was a text from Niko Latham, one of his poker buddies. The man had wasted no time boasting about his winnings from the night and thanked Khouri for his absence.
Smirking, Khouri opened the passenger door to the Rover. Dropping down to the leather champagne-colored seat, he texted back telling Niko to enjoy his one and only win. Then he stood to ease the phone into a side pocket when he lost his balance as someone brushed against him.
Lengthy hair and a gasping sound gave him pause but didn’t slow his reflexes. He caught the woman’s forearm and held her fast.
“Calm down,” he whispered, tilting his head to get a look at her face partially covered by thick black tendrils. He could see that she was terrified. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.
The woman struggled viciously and her gaze remained fixed on the alley she’d just run out of.
Soon, Khouri’s light eyes were trained in that direction, as well. “Someone’s following you?”
“Please.” Her tugs against his hold lost some of their power. She had yet to look away from the alley.
“Let’s go inside.” Again, Khouri shifted his head to get a better look at her face—a beautiful one at that.
The woman shook her head frantically and slightly renewed her struggles against his hold.
Khouri opened the passenger door to the Rover. “At least have a seat in my car while I get some help.”
She tugged more insistently on the imprisoned arm. With her free hand, she kept a death grip on the clutch purse at her chest. Still, her eyes remained on the darkness filling the alley.
“Please?” It was Khouri’s turn to urge. He eased his grip on her wrist and motioned toward the passenger seat.
Eventually, the woman shifted her gaze. She didn’t appear any more trusting of the seat than she did of the faceless threat in the distance. When noise rose from the alleyway, she chose the lesser of two evils and took refuge in the SUV.
She’d slammed the door shut before Khouri could do the honors. She used the flaring sleeves of her mocha-colored swing dress to cover the lower half of her face. Khouri watched her slink down in the seat, appearing every bit the timid child. The windows were tinted a few shades above complete black, but she remained hunched low.
Khouri told himself to focus on the matter at hand and he reached for his phone. He was about to dial inside the club for someone to come outside, when the sound of a runner caught his ears. Eyes narrowed toward the dark alleyway beyond the club, he waited. He winced, feeling a dull pressure tighten his palms. He realized his hands were aching to reach out and instill the same fear that the man running toward him had instilled in the woman who cowered in his car.
Somehow, he resisted the urge. The hooded pursuer raced by the other side of the Rover. Silence returned to the alley as the figure ran farther into the distance.
Khouri turned, intending to help the woman from his car. Again, the woman handled the door herself. Jumping out to the sidewalk, she sprinted off in the opposite direction from her tracker.
“You’re welcome,” Khouri said to her departing figure.
Chapter 1
The Ross Review boasted offices out of Miami, New York and London. The publication was headquartered in Houston, Texas, and was the brainchild of Louisiana native Basil Ross. The man had become a household name among a host of literary circles.
At eighteen, Basil—along with his childhood friend Wade Cornelius—started the weekly publication from the laundry room next to his mother’s in-home hair salon. Back then, the magazine was geared toward Basil’s peers. Topics covered the various challenges facing the black population in ’60s-era Louisiana.
Reporting from a purely militant viewpoint, the Review was of course underground in nature. Basil realized the dangers in reporting on civil inequality and racial attacks on the national, state and local levels. Still, he thrived in the knowledge of that very thing. The young publisher had made a name for himself long before he ever decided to put down stakes in Texas.
Upon visiting the Review, one would take the news floor as anything but. There was however a cool efficiency about the place. Reporters and staff toiled away at neat, high-end polished oak desks and were surrounded by glass walls in addition to windows.
Big-screen plasma TVs hung from various points in the ceiling on most every floor and broadcasted news from twenty-four-hour stations. The stations were also part of the Ross Review umbrella which, in the mid-nineties,
had been added to Basil Ross’s list of accomplishments.
While Ross Review employees were privy to an enviable view of downtown Houston, those on the other side of the glass had no clue about the goings-on of the organization inside. The underlying reason for the one-way windows was clear and spoke to the publication’s motto. Ross would reveal no “crime” before its time.
The overall effect of the eighteen-story building may have come across as cold, stark and uninviting but Basil Ross treated his employees very well. Editorial and custodial staff alike was given the utmost respect. Proof was evident in their working conditions and compensation. Basil Ross and Wade Cornelius each subscribed to the notion that a well-treated worker was an effective worker.
Aside from the drone of voices rising from the TVs, there was minimal personal chatter. Everyone was about his or her business and proud to be. Anyone privileged enough to walk through the doors of the Ross Review understood that they were walking into the environment of respect and admiration the publication waved like a banner.
* * *
Inside one of the glass-encased conference rooms, the dull rumble of laughter could be heard as the daily budget meeting began to wind down. Basil made a point of ending every meeting on a cordial note. The issues reported on by the magazine and stations were often so melancholy, smiles were hard to come by unless a story brought a criminal to justice.
Such was the case that morning. A dual effort between the crime and financial beats had yet to fully uncover the true motive behind a series of murders targeting new Machine Melendez employees.
“Follow the money, boys,” Basil was saying to his chief reporters for each beat. “You’ve already uncovered that the murders were professionally done. That costs money.” He watched David Crus and Noah Eames nod solemnly as he smiled.
“Show me you’re worth what I’m paying you,” Basil added, drawing a round of laughter in the process.
“Speaking of money,” Basil started once the chuckles began to silence. He reached for the last folder to his left and grimaced upon opening it. “I regret to announce that change will need to be made with regards to the Machine Melendez account.” Pulling the silver-rimmed spectacles from his nose, Basil focused on wiping the already spotless lenses. “Apologies for bringing noneditorial business into our budget meeting but since our two VPs are right here…”
Basil replaced the square-framed glasses and looked toward his son and daughter at the end of the table. “It’s best to get this out of the way now. I don’t want this mess fouling up the rest of my day.”
Avra Ross lowered her brown gaze while scooting down a bit in her chair. Squeezing the cup in hand, she focused on blowing across the surface of her coffee in order to cool it. She looked up when her father loudly cleared his throat.
“You’re gonna owe your brother big for this one, miss,” he said.
Blinking, Avra cast a quick look toward Khouri. She looked away just as quickly when he sent her a smug grin.
“You may not be so pleased when you find out what she’s gonna owe you for, sir.”
Khouri’s grin showed signs of dimming just a tad. Reclining in his chair, he stroked the light beard shadowing his face and waited.
“Too many negatives appear to be plaguing this account.” Basil perched his slender frame to the edge of the table. “Foremost is the fact that the lead execs can’t pass a civil word between the two of them.”
“The man’s a pig,” Avra grumbled, once more staring into her coffee.
Basil leaned toward his eldest child. “And you’re saying that you’ve never played nice with pigs before?”
“Not with pigs that big.” Avra smiled when laughter rumbled around the table. She cleared her throat upon noticing Basil’s dry expression.
“With that in mind, it’s time for cooler heads to prevail.” He looked from Avra who was easing down deeper into her chair. “Khouri, the job is yours.”
Khouri’s enviable, laid-back demeanor showed the slightest signs of unrest. “Dad, um.” He slanted a look toward his sister. “I don’t have a clue about what Av and her crew do over there in advertising. I’m not ashamed to say I don’t know about negotiating ad rates, either.”
“Understood, sir.” Basil smiled approvingly when his only son smirked over his use of the pet name. His expression tightened once more when he again looked toward his daughter. “But this isn’t about ad rates, is it, miss?”
Indignant, Avra set down her extra-tall coffee cup and folded her hands atop the table. “We don’t think Melendez’s proposed spots are right for the magazine,” she told her brother.
Khouri pressed a hand to the front of the gray shirt he wore. “And you think I’d know which are right?”
“We’re hoping your input might help us reach a decision for everyone to be happy,” Basil said, looking through the papers inside the folder he referred to. “We want to remove this from the ad department completely. Basically, we don’t want any of Avra’s staff feeling pressured into doing her bidding instead of sharing their true opinions.”
Avra bristled. “Dad—”
“Is Melendez all right with this?” Khouri smoothly interjected.
“They are sending their own cooler head to assist.”
Khouri realized the futility in asking more questions. The job, as his father said, was all his. The look he sent Avra then should have left no doubts that he was pissed and that she definitely owed him big time.
Basil slid the folder down the long table. “Someone from Melendez will call to set up a meeting.”
A knock fell upon the conference room door just as discussion resumed among the group. Basil’s assistant, Doris Shipman, hurried in. She whispered briefly near her boss’s ear, pressed a slip of paper into his hand and left the room.
Opening the note, Basil scanned the writing. His expression changed as he leaned forward and drew the strip of paper closer.
“Everything okay, Dad?” Avra shared a concerned look with Khouri when their father simply raised a hand and rushed from the room.
* * *
Samson Melendez smoothed the back of one hand along his square jaw and studied the young woman seated on the other side of his desk. Through a narrowed, dark gaze he focused intently on her face looking for anything to disprove what she was telling him.
“Convinced?” Setha Melendez asked her brother after he’d silently watched her for the better part of two minutes.
“Not really.” Sam’s canyon-deep voice had the tendency to fill a room especially when his words carried the added air of suspicion. “I can’t understand anyone—who’s in their right mind—volunteering to spend hours negotiating with the likes of Avra Ross.”
Setha recrossed her long legs. “No one except you, right?” she drawled, smiling brightly when her brother’s probing-pitch stare wavered. She elected not to call him on it. “Anyway, I won’t be dealing with Avra but with her brother.”
“Khouri?” Samson pushed out of the hulking desk chair that was set behind an equally massive desk. “He’s no adman. He’s his dad’s right-hand guy. This is a little below his pay grade.”
“Well, apparently he doesn’t think so.” Setha bit down on her bottom lip in an attempt to douse her smile. The times were few and far between when anyone managed to surprise Samson Melendez. She swung her foot a bit more merrily. The moment was definitely one to be savored.
Samson took a seat on the corner of his desk and fixed his little sister with another probing glare. “Why wasn’t I told about this, Set?”
Still savoring the moment, Setha shrugged and studied the fringe hemline of the tan wrap dress she wore. “If I had to guess, it’d probably be because the decision had already come down from the top.”
Sam leaned forward a bit. “Dad?”
“Mmm…and Basil Ross.”
Sam winced then. “Old fools,” he muttered, running a hand across his dark, straight hair. “They haven’t got a clue about advertising.”
“But they do have a clue about getting things done.” Setha leaned forward then to pin her brother with a teasing leer. “I guess they figure since you and Avra Ross have issues…”
“Bullshit.” Sam began to massage his forehead. “I got no issues with that woman aside from bein’ aggravated out of my mind every time I see her.”
“Mmm…” Setha propped fist to chin and wondered if Sam had any idea of how soft his voice had become.
Obviously he did for his gaze narrowed in renewed suspicion. “You asked for this, didn’t you?” He coolly shifted the subject.
The smug expression on Setha’s licorice-dark face showed the slightest traces of unease then. Aside from being hard to surprise, her brother had a scary talent for reading people. “Dad asked me to step in,” she blurted and stood from her chair. “He thought I’d like a change of pace since we’re a bit slow just now,” she added, referring to her job managing Melendez Corporate Charities.
“Bullshit again,” Sam said while folding his arms over his chest. “Why the hell would you want to be involved in this?”
“I wanted to help.”
“Double bullshit.” Sam gave her the benefit of a hard stare for only a few seconds longer and then shrugged. “But I won’t argue.”
“I promise I’m not after your job, Sam.” Setha clutched her hands to the center of her chest. “Besides, I don’t know a thing about negotiating ad rates.”
“Then you’re in luck since rates aren’t what we can’t agree on.” He leaned across the massive desk and grabbed a hefty file there. He passed it to Setha and waved a hand to urge her to view its contents.
Obliging, Setha peered into the worn folder and scanned the first 8½x11 glossy she picked up. Her mouth fell open. “You’re not serious?”
* * *
Khouri adjourned the budget meeting following his father’s hasty departure. He forbade Avra to leave and grilled her about the advertising issue being unsettled with a client because of personal differences. Avra, unfortunately, wasn’t interested in discussing the Melendez account.
“Did you see how he just rushed out?” She bit her thumbnail while watching the closed conference room door.
“So what?” Khouri didn’t break his slow stride while pacing the room and shuffling through the account folder.
Avra rolled her eyes. “So what?”
“Hell, Av, he’s gotten notes and had to leave meetings early before.”
Avra’s gaze slid back to the door. “There’s more to it. He looked strange… I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on his face before, have you? Khouri?”
Her brother didn’t respond and Avra waited for him to pass by during his pacing. She reached out to punch his arm and winced when her fist connected with an iron-hard bicep. “Dammit, Khouri, the least you can do is listen to me.”
Khouri’s deep-set stare was focused on his mobile. “Your client wants a meeting in the morning,” he muttered. “They’re sending Setha Melendez.”
Avra’s brows rose and her expression turned animated. “Aah…the baby sis—they really are going after cooler heads. Prettier heads, too.”
“Pretty.” Khouri smirked over his sister’s use of the word.
“Haven’t you ever met her?” Avra folded her arms across the tailored salt-and-pepper vest she sported. “I was sure that you had….”
Khouri only shook his head.
“Guess that makes sense. Hmph, she’s not a big presence at the company—works for the charity end, handling money the corporation donates internationally or somethin’ like that.” She rolled her eyes and eased from her perch on the table. “If what I’ve heard from most men is true, then you’re in for a real treat tomorrow morning.”
Khouri remained silent and Avra guessed—hoped—he was too preoccupied by the upcoming meeting to worry over her departure. She took advantage of the fact and decided to try for a quiet escape.
Answering the email regarding the meeting, Khouri didn’t lift his head. “We’re not done yet,” he called.
“Damn, Khouri…” Avra was seconds away from stomping her feet in agitation. “Sam Melendez’s idea of advertising auto parts is to have some half-naked woman cradling brake pads between her boobs. Now I don’t think that’s what we want on the pages of the Review, do you?”
“Maybe not.” Khouri chuckled while finishing up with the email. “But it’d sure as hell sell a crap load of brake pads.”
“Khouri…” She actually whined that time.
Grinning, Khouri agreed that he’d hounded his big sister long enough. “I need for you to send me everything you’ve got on this thing so I won’t look like a complete fool for the Melendez’s prettier head.”
“Deal. As soon as I check in on Dad.”
Khouri eased the phone into his trouser pocket. “Do you honestly think there’s anything to be upset about?”
“I hope not.” She shrugged and extended her hand. “Care to join me and find out?”
Chapter 2
Setha refused to take an office at Machine Melendez. After all, she really was there only to offer her assistance with the advertising issue. At least it was the issue that gave her the opportunity she needed to get inside Ross Review.
While the man she needed to see was no longer associated with the publication, the advertising angle would hopefully give her the chance to get a feel for the Ross family. Basil Ross especially. She knew how it felt to be wrongly perceived by someone she’d never met.
Sighing, she curved her bare feet beneath her on the rust-colored suede sofa in Samson’s office and reviewed the portfolio he’d given her.
“Better take a stab at educating myself on this so the man won’t think I’m a complete idiot,” Setha murmured, thinking of her meeting with Khouri Ross.
She couldn’t help but laugh as she browsed the glossy artwork for the proposed Machine Melendez ads in the Ross Review. No wonder Avra Ross couldn’t work with Sam, she thought. In her brother’s defense, however, Setha knew he was only seeing dollars and not…well…sex. It was yet another testament to how well he read people. He knew what would sell. That, in addition to the fact that Machine Melendez could have easily been called Macho Melendez.
Setha smiled at the thought. While her brothers were a handful, she was happy that her father had been blessed with three sons to immerse in the world of men. Daughters would have definitely not fared well, but her dad would have certainly tried to…initiate them.
Setha harbored no jealousy or envy toward her brothers. She was quite pleased with being the “softer side” of the Melendez clan. At least, she was quite pleased with letting the men in her life think she was the softer side. They would hit the roof if they knew what she’d been up to over the past several months.
She had to admit they’d have a right to hit the roof. Only to herself could she admit that she’d gotten in way over her head. But then, wasn’t that the Melendez way? Get in deep, be so driven to succeed that it was necessary to fight to get out from beneath it all? And yet, be better for it because of the struggle?
Setha cast aside the artwork and groaned, wearily massaging a stockinged foot. It had been forty-eight hours since the night she’d literally had to run for her life. Whoever her pursuer was, he was no fool. He had seemed to anticipate her moves before she even made them.
Or, perhaps he had help? Setha shook her head to cast off the even more unsettling possibility. Nervously, she twirled a wayward onyx-colored tendril about her index finger. How had the simple act of helping someone turned into the equivalent of opening a can of worms? The more she’d dug for answers—the deeper she’d gotten—the more she’d discovered and the news wasn’t good.
Could her father have really been involved in what she’d discovered? True, most businesses as widespread and lucrative as Machine Melendez often owed its success to a foundation of ugliness but her father, Danilo, was not a ruthless man.
Resting her head on the sofa back, she shut out the voice that revised the statement. Danilo Melendez was not a ruthless father. Setha knew full well that the man’s business prowess was in fact ruthless to say the least.
She wasn’t involved in the business to the same extent as her brothers, but Setha was aware of her father’s tactics. Strong-arming landowners to obtain property for the latest, greatest Melendez facility…there were other stories—ones that put strong-arming landowners in the lightweight category.
Machine Melendez was a monster company with a history of monstrous deeds to account for its greatness. It was the brainchild of Mexican immigrant Danilo Melendez. The parts and services giant had boasted profits in the billions for the past fifteen years and multimillion-dollar balance sheets during the twenty-five prior years.
Even with the economic downturn, Machine Melendez managed to come out smelling distinctly roselike. Danilo Melendez was a savvy businessman who saw the benefit in a diverse industry. Machine Melendez was not only a parts-and-services dynamo. There were holdings in the hospitality, finance and medical industries.
For all the accolades, however, rumors of corruption remained. Such were often the grumblings of jealous competitors. There were occasions still where many seemed to hold merit.
One of the more outrageous claimed Danilo Melendez had ties to a drug cartel out of Mexico City and that he’d served as a money launderer for the organization. It had been stated that in addition to the monetary benefit, Dan’s laundering efforts were repaid in cheap labor from undocumented workers.
None of it could be proven, of course. No one rode the waves of the American dream the way Melendez had without covering any misdeeds with a host of admirable efforts…and friends.
Danilo Melendez boasted as many high-powered connections as he did business deals. Whatever negative attention the man may have attracted from the authorities, it wasn’t enough to have any formal investigations launched.
Dan’s friends were everywhere. Even in the most humble of communities. The man was well-known for sharing his very considerable wealth. Charity galas, hefty donations to public housing beautification and security efforts, child care initiatives—Machine Melendez was well loved by the people.
That was where Setha came in. Whatever her father’s true reputation, she was proud of the charitable efforts of the company and her job to promote them. The head of Melendez Corporate Charities, she took her responsibilities seriously but let her staff receive the accolades and act as the face of the organization. She had no problems taking a backseat. Her image wasn’t important. After all, in the Melendez family, if one was despised, they all were.
Spite was certainly what Avra Ross had to feel for Samson, Setha mused while scanning the purely sexist ads again. She wondered if Khouri Ross had seen them and what his impressions were. Though they’d never met, his reputation had preceded him.
He was the only son of a respected publisher. She knew Basil Ross made few moves without consulting his right hand. Word had it Khouri Ross was exceptionally good at everything he did.
Setha browsed the glossy shots and wondered whether he was truly a cooler head or one of the alpha male varieties she knew so well.
* * *
“What the hell are you doin’?” Khouri caught his sister’s arm and tugged her back from the door just as her hand folded over the lever. “You can’t just go bustin’ in on the man like that.”
“Well, what’s the problem?” Avra propped fists to her slender hips and frowned. “Obviously somethin’s up with him.”
“And it’s probably somethin’ he doesn’t want to discuss with his kids.”
Avra blinked. “You think it’s about a woman?”
“Jesus, Av.” Khouri grimaced over her bewilderment. “Some folks do mix a little pleasure into their lives from time to time, you know? The man deserves that, doesn’t he?”
Avra waited a beat and then nodded. “Yeah…yeah he does.” Their mother had died over a decade earlier and, by all accounts, Basil hadn’t looked at another woman since.
“Anyway, I don’t think this is about a woman.” Khouri’s gaze was fixed on his father’s office door then.
The admission fueled Avra’s determination again. “Well, let’s go find out what’s goin’ on.”
“Wait, Av, that’s not the way.”
His hushed words stopped her easily. The tone never failed to deter Avra from whatever course of action she’d chosen. No one could argue that Khouri Ross had a sixth sense for selecting the right course of action. His batting average was so impressive in that regard that few saw the benefit of making a move until Khouri voiced his opinion. Avra simply slapped her hands to her sides and waited.
Doris Shipman was returning to her office then. “Hey, darlins!” she called.
Khouri slanted his sister a wink. “Hey, Miss Doris, you’re just all over the place this mornin’.”
“Honey, you said it!” Doris waved one hand above her head. “I’m startin’ to feel like a chicken with my head cut off.”
“Well, you’re by far the prettiest chicken I’ve ever seen.”
Doris waved her hand again, giggling like a high school girl instead of a great-grandmother. “Don’t you even start that flattery, Khouri. I’m too busy to be swoonin’ over compliments today.”
Khouri didn’t let up and Doris clearly didn’t mind all that much. Avra leaned against the doorway of Doris’s office and observed the scene. She pitied the woman who tried to ignore her brother. It’d be interesting to bet on how long one could resist should he put the full force of his charm to work then.
“We’re sorry to be barging in on you here, Miss Doris, when you’re so busy,” Khouri was saying once talk of the new grandbaby and the fishing trip Mr. Shipman took to Lake Jackson had ended. “We just wanted to check in on Dad. After the way he raced out of the meeting…we thought there might be something we could help him with.”
The expression dimmed on Doris’s light honey-toned face, losing some of the illumination it held when talk had surrounded her family. “Oh, dear…” She fidgeted with her pearl necklace and glanced toward Basil’s door. “It’s not about business.”
“Is he all right, Miss D?” Khouri moved closer to Doris, cupping her elbow lightly.
Again, Doris angled her head to check Basil’s door. Satisfied by the level of privacy, she patted Khouri’s chest. “He’s gotten bad news about a friend, a colleague, almost like a brother really.”
“No,” Avra breathed, bolting from the doorway then.
“Av!”
Avra was already walking into her father’s office without so much as a knock to announce herself. Basil didn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. He barely turned his head toward the door when it opened.
“Daddy?” Avra rushed around the desk, falling to her knees before Basil’s chair. Her large, coffee-brown gaze searched his face almost half a minute. “Is it Mr. C, Daddy?” she asked, referring to her father’s oldest friend, Wade Cornelius.
Basil nodded, cupping Avra’s face when she gasped. “Shh…” He gestured sweetly and pulled her close as her eyes pooled with water. “Shh…”
“What happened, Daddy?” Her voice was muffled in his shirt as they embraced.
“They…they say they found him dead.”
Khouri stepped deeper into the large sunken office in the uppermost corner of the building.
“Found him?” Avra squeezed her father’s shoulder. “How? When— Do they suspect—?”
“Shh, baby, shh… They don’t know much more than that just yet.” He kissed her forehead and patted the small of her back. “I need a little more time to myself, sugar, all right?”
“Let’s go, Av,” Khouri called before she thought about asking more questions. He moved behind the desk, gently but firmly pulling Avra from Basil’s lap.
“It’s okay, Av,” he soothed while leading her to the door. Before leaving, Avra caught Khouri sending a narrowed meaningful look toward his father. Basil barely sent him a wave, before turning his chair to face the windows lining the rear wall of the room.
Avra was shaking noticeably by the time they were back out in the hall. Khouri’s soft tone and reassuring rubs to her back had her measurably calm soon after.
“Mr. C?” he queried when he and Avra were seated in the small waiting area outside the office.
Avra studied her hands smothered in one of Khouri’s and took solace in the comfort it instilled. “Wade Cornelius. He was my mentor here right out of college. He was a very respected writer—more than Pop even once they got the magazine up and running.” She smiled. “Daddy was more interested in the business end of things—left the writing to Mr. C.” Covering her face in her hands, she inhaled for a few seconds and then continued. “He was a wonderful man. I learned a lot from him.” She sniffed. “That was back when I was naive enough to think I had what it took to be a hard-nosed journalist.”
Khouri listened intently, cupping Avra’s cheek when she wept. “You gonna be okay, honey?”
“Sorry.” She sniffed again frowning at herself for losing reign over her emotions. “Didn’t mean to get sappy.”
“Stop,” Khouri whispered, using his thumb to brush a tear from her cheek. “You’re entitled. Can I do anything?”
Avra laughed amid her weeping. “Just don’t tell me you can’t take over the Melendez ad account. I’m definitely not in the mood to deal with that or anything else heavy right now,” she said, watching as her little brother graced her with one of the adorably guileless smiles that made her heart melt even when she was mad enough to spit nails at him.
“No sweat,” he said.
Avra brushed his face. “Go handle your business.” She kept her smile in place until he was gone.
* * *
Setha had a full evening planned that night. It was to take place right there before the TV in her sitting room.
“What a lucky girl I am.” She sighed, grimly eyeing the two hefty folders on the pine coffee table before her. She’d gone through the Melendez ad file several times, but would take another look once more for good measure before tomorrow morning’s meeting.
The file that held her full attention just then was the one simply labeled with a question mark. Everything inside had proven to be one big riddle after another. Setha fingered the pink message slip that had started it all.
“What now?” she asked herself. Her “stalker” had effectively ruined the meeting she had hoped to have with Raquel Ross at her club. It was a good thing she hadn’t alerted the woman beforehand, Setha thought. She wondered whether she should risk another meeting and then decided it could be a moot point after tomorrow.
The entire reason for visiting the club had been to get a sense of the Ross family—to discover what side of the fence they were really on.
Hmph. Setha leaned forward to brace her elbows to her knees. Would she even know how to make the distinction? Lately, it’d been very difficult for her to tell the good guys from the bad.
That thought made her think of her rescuer from the night in the alley. Definitely a good guy. She hadn’t even told him “thank you” when she ran from his car….
She was lost in her thoughts until something caught her ear from the news broadcast on TV. Frowning, she moved aside the folds of the chiffon robe in search for the remote which rested beneath her rump on the sofa cushions.
“Come on…” she muttered, clicking the rewind button on the DVR.
“…was found dead in his condo. Police have not determined cause of death at this time. Wade Cornelius had a well-respected reputation for fair and intelligent reporting. He will be missed. Once again, Wade Cornelius, dead at…”
“Oh, my God,” Setha breathed.
Chapter 3
“Are you sure it’s all right?” Setha was asking the next morning when she stood in the executive hall of the Ross Review.
“It’s just fine, honey,” Marta Leonard drawled, already leading the way to her boss’s office. “Khouri’s just finishing up with another matter—he’ll be along directly. Already asked that you be shown in here to wait ’til he gets back. Coffee, honey?”
“Oh, uh…no, no, thank you. I’m fine.” Setha put down her things and smiled.
When Marta was gone, Setha regretted turning down the coffee but knew it was for the best. That indulgence would definitely be a mistake since her stomach was already a barrel of nerves.
Following the news broadcast on Wade Cornelius’s death, she needed something different to focus on—to settle her mind. Reviewing more of the lurid shots for the proposed Melendez ads wasn’t the ticket. Instead, she decided to do some research on her new business associate. As a result, her nerves rewound again quite nicely.
The second eldest and only son in a family of four kids, Khouri Ross had a reputation that could epitomize grace under fire. He was known for being wickedly intelligent, very soft-spoken. It was rumored that, when he walked into a meeting, folks waited for his input and tended to agree. Additionally, and probably the asset which fueled the power of the others, were the looks encasing the package.
And what a package. Setha recalled the pictures she’d uncovered. The man was definitely…to-die-for. Tall, he had the sort of lean powerful frame that made any piece of clothing look good. Deep-set eyes, she couldn’t make out the color only that they were bright and striking. Then there was the strong jaw and cleft chin… She wondered if the pictures did him justice?
She’d lived among gorgeous men all her life. It went without saying that she was well aware how difficult they could be if they were vain enough. If Khouri Ross gave her half the grief her brothers were capable of, this business association would be yet another level of hell in her once quiet and easy life.
Shaking off what she could of her nervousness, Setha began a stroll of the office. Smoothing clammy hands across the seat of her putty-colored low-rise skirt, she more closely observed her surroundings. Sadly, the stroll did little to settle her nerves.
On top of to-die-for handsome, intelligent and respected, she could also add “accomplished” to the list. The mahogany shelving which lined the walls abounded with plaques, trophies and pictures of Khouri Ross accepting awards…and looking very nice while he did it.
What really caught her eyes though were the magazine covers. How had this man escaped her radar? Because you’re a party-dodging workaholic who’ll trust a man to friendship but nothing more.
Setha blinked. “Shut up,” she told the silent, responding voice. Stepping closer to the center shelf, she took a closer look at one of the magazine covers. In actuality, it was a calendar cover. Some sort of eligible bachelor thing for one of the city’s numerous big-name charities. She only recognized it because two of her brothers were in it. Setha was more interested in scanning Khouri Ross’s page.
Obviously the calendar had little to do with assisting one in finding the day’s date. Setha’s full mouth curved into a knowing smile, observing the sexy beefcakes inside—her brothers excluded. She gave a playful grimace at their photos and flipped to August and Khouri’s shot.
Every entry was created as a centerfold and Setha took great pleasure in extending the sheet to its full length. She was letting out a low whistle in reference to the devastating image before her eyes, when the life-size version walked through the door.
Khouri softly cleared his throat.
The low rumbling did the trick.
The calendar fell from suddenly weak fingers when Setha spotted the man twenty feet across the room. Her charcoal-black stare widened in tandem to her mouth forming a larger O.
“Sorry.” She blinked, stopping to collect the calendar and put it back in its place.
“Damn,” she whispered when it fell and she stopped again to grab it. Expelling a slow breath, she set it back on the shelf a bit more deliberately.
Khouri watched, smiling more broadly after her curse. She stood and was walking toward him with her hand outstretched when he began to frown.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ross.” Setha was offering her hand while introducing herself. The frown he wore was hard to miss.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced awkwardly across her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to go through your things.”
Slowly, very slowly, Khouri shook himself out of his stupor. “No, it—it’s all right.” He took the hand she offered.
“Thank you—” she let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding “—for, um, taking the meeting.” Dammit, Seth, get a hold of yourself! When he just stood there staring, she swallowed and wondered whether he’d mind her doing the same. His pictures didn’t do him justice. No sirree, they didn’t do him justice at all.
* * *
Taking Setha Melendez’s lead, Khouri swallowed as well and with no small effort. He even managed a slight nod, while waving toward the office living area. “Would you like to sit?”
Nodding, Setha flexed her hand a bit once he’d released it from his firm grip. She was taking her place in one of the deep merlot-colored armchairs before the desk when she noticed he’d moved to the living area and was waiting for her to join him there. She batted at a loose wavy tendril that had slipped from her coiffure and collected her things before meeting him across the room. He was standing near a long black sofa, so she took that as her cue to sit there.
Remember to blink, she told herself, praying he’d start first. Her mind was too busy making mental images of him to formulate words.
“Looks like we’ve got some work ahead of us.”
“Yes.” She practically breathed the word in response to his observation. She blinked again, reminding herself that she didn’t want the man to think she was a total idiot. Putting her mind to the task at hand, she reached over to grab the folder she’d been reviewing over the last several days.
“Looks like your sister and my brother got a lot of work done.”
“And didn’t come up with much.”
She seasoned her shrug with a smirk. “I can tell they put a lot of effort into it.”
Khouri’s shoulder barely rose beneath the walnut-brown shirt and matching suit coat he wore. “A lot of effort may’ve gone in but a lot of crap came out.”
Setha raised a brow while observing the glossy photo she held. “You don’t agree that sex sells?”
He only spared a second’s glance at the photo before his uncommon hazel eyes returned to her face. “Only if it’s good sex,” he said.
The glossy fell from Setha’s fingers that had once again gone weak.
Khouri bent to retrieve it. Setha fought the urge to shift in her spot as his bright gaze made an astute trek along the length of her legs below the uneven hemline of her skirt.
“So how should we begin this?” she asked once he’d straightened.
Khouri passed her the photo. “That file you’re holding?” he prompted and waited for her nod. He cocked his head toward his desk. “Start by tossin’ it in the wastebasket.”
Setha threw back her head and laughed. Loudly.
“Does your sister know how much you hate her work?” Setha relaxed a bit more on the sofa.
Khouri leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles. “She hates it herself, so no harm done.”
“Right.” Setha scanned the photo again. “So is it my brother’s take on it that you hate?”
“Not at all.” He was already shaking his head. “It’s just obvious that he’s going against what he really wants and tryin’ to please Avra at the same time. That was his first mistake.”
A tiny frown worked its way between Setha’s long, arched brows. “What is it you think he really wants?”
Khouri motioned toward the photo. “May I?” Taking the artwork, he used two other glossies to crop the photo in question.
Setha watched with bland interest. “A woman in a bikini standing over a caption that reads ‘Buy Melendez.’” She smirked. “You’re serious?”
Khouri regarded her more intently. “Machine Melendez is a male-dominated company selling a male-dominated product.”
Setha’s laughter was a bit less humor filled then. “Women do buy the occasional alternator, Mr. Ross.”
“Khouri.”
Dammit, she thought, did he have to make her want to moan when she was trying to make a valid point?
“Can I get you anything?” he offered, easily noticing her strained expression.
Setha only shook her head to decline.
“Your point’s well taken,” Khouri continued, “and in Samson’s defense, what makes him so good at promoting Melendez is that he speaks to the majority of his clientele and he speaks in their language.”
“Chauvinism. Sexism.”
“Good guesses.” Khouri grinned when she gave him a playful wave. “It is what it is. But if Melendez wants advertising in the Review we’re gonna have to come up with something that speaks to all Melendez clientele.”
“Equally?” Setha’s tone was hopeful.
Khouri pushed aside the photos. “We’re not miracle workers, Ms. Melendez.”
“Setha, please.”
“Setha.”
A shiver kissed her skin beneath the material of her white French-cuffed shirt. Thinning her lips, she steeled herself against reacting to it. “So do you know what your sister wants for this campaign?”
“That’s easy.” Khouri took the photos and turned them facedown. “Nothing. She doesn’t think we should even be doing business with your family’s company.”
Once again that morning, Setha broke into full-bodied laughter.
* * *
Avra set the lock on her office door and then took a seat on the edge of her desk. Facing her view of downtown Houston, she dialed out and waited for the connection.
“Avra!” a cheerful feminine voice greeted.
“Off the record, Gwen.”
“Heffa,” Gwen Bennett huffed in the most affectionate tone. “So what’s up?”
Avra trailed fingers through the short, glossy, onyx-colored curls covering her head. “Did you hear about Wade Cornelius?”
“Yeah…” Gwen’s sigh came through the line. “The man was a legend. I’m pretty sure the Houston Journal’s got some sort of memorial planned for him in the op-ed section later in the week.”
“And that’s all?”
“Well, that’s what—”
Avra rolled her eyes. She could practically see the veteran reporter’s internal antennae going up.
“What’s up, Av?”
“You knew he was my mentor, Gwen.”
“Yeah…” Gwen sighed again, that time realizing how hard the man’s death must have hit her friend. “I’m sorry if I sounded crass, I—”
“Have you heard anything else about his death?” Avra moved off her desk and closer to the windows. “All it said on the news was that he’d been—been found… Do you know whether the authorities suspect some foul play?”
“Honestly, Av, I haven’t heard a thing. Is this…something you want me to dig around in?”
Avra hedged instead of offering a prompt reply.
“I promise not to print anything without talking to you first. But, Av, if it turns out that foul play did account for the death, you know it’ll be news.”
“I know.” Avra turned her back on the view and worried the hemline of her silver ruffled blouse. “Look, just do whatever you can to find out whatever you can and keep it quiet for as long as you can, all right?”
“Avra…honey, don’t take this wrong but do you think I will find something?”
Avra began to wear a path before the floor-to-ceiling windows in the office. “I can’t say one way or another. I mean, Mr. C was no spring chicken—high blood pressure, diabetes…so who knows? But it’s nagging at me. Whether anything’s up or not, the cops’ll hide it for as long as they can, and I’m not patient enough to wait on them to share the news.”
“Understood. All right then, girl. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ended and Avra cradled her forehead in her palm.
* * *
After a lengthy discussion, Setha and Khouri broke for a brainstorming session. Seated on opposite sides of the office, they scribbled ideas for possible Machine Melendez ads.
At least, Setha scribbled. Khouri stared. It was all he could do to get through the first hour of their discussion that morning. It would have probably been a chore for him to keep his full attention on business anyway.
It went without saying that Setha Melendez was a beauty. It was no surprise that she was tall coming from a family of giants—same as him, Khouri thought. What was a surprise was the sweet, husky voice that cracked every now and then in the most adorable way. Unlike her brothers who’d inherited their complexion from their father, Setha’s skin was a flawless dark chocolate, courtesy of her mother.
Then, there was everything else. Her curves. The blue-black waves of hair bound in the tight glossy ball atop her head. Then there were the midnight-colored eyes that could drown a man and the mouth that promised heaven.
While the physical surprises abounded and delighted, they didn’t take his mind off the fact that she’d sought refuge in his car just two nights prior. Of all the mysteries he intended to solve about her, that was the one he most wanted answers to.
“Lunch?” he proposed when she looked up to find him watching her.
“Oh…thank you, but no.” She scooted to the edge of the sofa. “I’m supposed to have a late lunch with my staff.”
“Well, then.” Khouri left his place behind the desk and went to meet her in the center of the room. “Guess we’ll have lots to talk about.” He smiled toward the pad she’d been scribbling on.
She eased it into her tote and nodded. “I’ll clear time with my staff so we can schedule meetings and put this thing to bed.” She coughed, the phrase having left her mouth before her brain could process it.
Khouri held his laughter, knowing he’d only embarrass her more than she already was. “May I take you to your car?” he asked, bringing his hand to the small of her back but not touching her there.
Setha raised a hand, shaking her head as she did so. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”
“Hold on.” He went back to his desk, leaning across it and grabbing the phone. “Hey,” he greeted softly when Marta answered. “Call down to security and tell them to have somebody down there to show Ms. Melendez to her car.”
“I appreciate that,” Setha said when he rejoined her in the middle of the room. “But I can get myself to the car just fine.”
“I know that, but this is for Sam’s benefit.” Khouri’s sleek brows rose in acknowledgment of her curiosity. “I’m sure he didn’t much like sending his baby sister into the lion’s den. Having sisters myself, I know I wouldn’t care for it much, either.” Bright eyes scanned her body quickly yet intensely. “Least I can do is have security give you an escort.”
“Well, thank you.” She almost whispered the words.
“You’re welcome. I’ll call you.” His voice was just as soft.
Setha walked out less than half a minute later and Khouri ordered himself to stop at his office door—not to follow her down the hall. He watched even after she had disappeared into one of the elevators.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth, baby,” Marta said when she walked past.
Khouri rolled his eyes and returned to his office. Marta’s laughter followed.
Chapter 4
Marta was handling a call when Avra dropped by her brother’s office. She pointed to the door to silently inquire if he was in.
Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, Marta’s eyes shifted quickly toward the door. “Yeah, but in a weird mood.”
“And this is news?”
“He’s been acting funny since Ms. Melendez left around lunch.”
“Ah…” Avra’s expression turned smug. “I told him he’d be floored.”
“Floored ain’t the half of it.”
“Thanks, Mart,” Avra said, letting the woman get back to her phone call.
She applied a fast knock to the door and stepped into the office calling Khouri’s name. He was behind his desk, somberly swiveling his chair to and fro. Avra had to call his name three times before catching his attention.
She whistled when he pulled his fist from his chin and looked over at her. “Damn! Floored ain’t the half of it. You looked downright steamrolled, baby brother.”
Khouri smiled but made no effort to provide a verbal confirmation…or denial.
“Come on, out with it.” Avra moved aside folders from a corner of the desk and planted her butt in the space. “So? How’d it go?”
“Not now, Av.”
“Uh-uh, I’ve been waiting all day for you to tell me about it.”
“Later.”
“Well what? Do I need to be concerned?” She wasn’t put off by the black look he sent her.
“I mean, if I need to be concerned—tell me.” She folded her arms across the front of the ruffled blouse and feigned exasperation. “It is my name on the account. I should know if it’s about to take a swan dive down the toilet.”
“Bullshit.” Khouri worked the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “But all right.”
“What?”
“It’s got nothin’ to do with the ads. You just want to know what happened with her.”
“Khouri…” That time, Avra feigned innocence. “That’s not even true. I need this idea of Dad’s to work. I’m absolutely not trying to have to deal with Samson Melendez again. Ever.”
Khouri didn’t have to look Avra’s way to detect the disappointment on her part. Was she aware of it? he wondered.
“So. About the meeting?”
“Jesus, Avra.” Khouri left his desk then said, “She’s incredible, all right?”
Avra leaned over his desk, bracing her weight on one elbow. “Trophy material, huh?”
“Ha!” He laughed over the phrasing, but nodded. “And then some, but more than that—a lot more.”
“Wow.” Avra couldn’t pull her eyes away from her brother’s face. He looked positively thunderstruck. “I still can’t believe you’ve never met her—seen her. I would’ve expected you to have scoped that piece of eye candy a long time ago.”
“Yeah…” Khouri’s thunderstruck look showed traces of unease. “Well I thought I’d never met her,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck while walking the perimeter of his office.
Avra’s long stare widened in anticipation of Khouri sharing a bit of sexy dirt.
“Forget it,” he flatly refused, easily reading her expression. “Maybe met is too strong of a word.”
Avra hung her head and shook it. “Now I’m completely confused.” She was, however, sitting up moments later once Khouri explained how and where he’d originally met Setha Melendez in the alley behind Raquel’s club.
Overwhelmed, Avra could only sit with her mouth open in amazement. “All right…is it possible for you to go over this once more and slowly—I mean like funeral-procession slowly?”
He grinned. “Story ain’t gonna change, darlin’.”
“But what’s it all about? What’d she say when you asked her?”
“I didn’t ask her.”
“Well, dammit, Khouri. Why not?”
“Hell, Avra!” Khouri lost the tether he kept on what had the potential to be a considerable temper. “I wasn’t about to ask her somethin’ like that.”
“Why not?”
“I just met her, for Christ’s sakes!”
“Well, what do you think it’s about?” Avra asked after waiting a beat.
A low sound, definitely in the neighborhood of a growl, churned deep in Khouri’s throat. The familiar pressure tightened his palms as he thought of the night. “A man chases a woman down an alley and she prefers hiding in my car to going inside a club full of people. She didn’t even wait around for me to call for help.” He pushed both hands into his pockets. “I’m thinkin’ she knew the jackass.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I mean, what man in his right mind would chase Setha Melendez down an alley if he knew it was Setha Melendez and who her family was? And that she’s got three brothers built like tanks?”
Khouri shrugged. “So what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinkin’ you should ask her what the hell is up. You had her take refuge in your car, for crap’s sake—she at least owes you an explanation.”
“Right.” Khouri stroked the light shadow of a beard covering otherwise flawless caramel-toned skin and he let his frustration show. “So tell me how you’d feel if you’d just met Sam Melendez and he came questioning you about something like that?”
“Why—” Avra closed her mouth, and then opened it again. “Why do you always have to make everything about me and Samson Melendez?”
“Just tryin’ to put it in a perspective you can relate to.”
“Fine.” Avra raised a hand in weariness. “I can see my input isn’t needed or desired.”
Khouri gave her a mock salute. “You’re a quick study, Av.”
Avra gave her brother the finger and then waltzed out of his office without further discussion.
Alone then, Khouri admitted the valid point his sister had raised. It didn’t make sense that a man would run down Setha Melendez in an alley especially if he knew who she was. He’d have to know he was a dead man if her family found him.
Khouri sat on the desk corner Avra had vacated. He was sure few men could handle losing a woman like the beautiful Ms. Melendez…. If the incident he’d witnessed was in fact a lover’s spat gone bad in the worst way, had it jaded her enough to swear off all men?
Whoa, man. He went to slosh a little bourbon into a glass at the wall bar in his office.
His sister, whether she knew it or not, was already gaga over one Melendez. There was no sense in him jumping into the same pot. Of course that, in no way, meant that he couldn’t do everything in his power to find out what ran her into his car that night and why.
* * *
Setha was searching her phone for a number, when she spotted Samson reclining behind her desk while he chatted with her assistant, Valerie Lennin. She cleared her throat noisily to cut through the sound of Valerie’s high-pitched giggles. “Something you forgot to ask me during lunch, Val?” she asked once the room had gone silent.
Recognizing her boss’s sarcasm, Valerie offered a tight smile. “I’ll just be at my desk.” Twirling a dark blond lock around her finger, she put her most flirtatious smile in place. “Bye, Samson.”
“What?” Setha greeted her brother when they were left alone.
“Just stopped by to find out how the meeting went.” Sam stroked his jaw and regarded her with cool intent lacing his dark stare. “Did Avra keep buttin’ in to your meeting? Bet she didn’t let you get a word in.”
Tossing her things to a chair before the desk, Setha grinned. “Actually, she didn’t butt in once—never saw her while I was there.”
“Is that right?”
Setha took great pleasure in the sound of his voice. She left off grinning though. “I’ll be back over there soon if there’s…some message you want me to deliver—”
“You can tell her to go screw herself.” Sam left the desk chair tugging on the gray-and-black suspenders that complemented his shirt.
“Go screw—herself?” Setha pretended to be confused and rested her palm to her cheek. “Isn’t that something you’d want to take part in?” She let loose her laughter at the look he gave.
“This is serious business, Set.”
“We know that, Sam. Khouri and I will give this our best efforts.”
“How’s it lookin’ so far?”
Setha gave an exaggerated sigh and brought her hands to her hips. “We’re gonna have to make some changes, Sam.”
“What kind of changes?”
“Big ones.”
“Well, what—all right, all right.” He raised his hands at her look and reconsidered his next question. “So are you comin’ over to Pop’s for dinner this weekend?”
“I’ll try, but I’ve got so much work.” Setha latched onto the excuse she’d used for the past several weeks. “With this Melendez/Ross account campaign everything’s been busier. Like you said, ‘This is serious,’” she noted when his stare progressively hardened. “It’s gonna take a lot for me to stay on top of it.”
“You haven’t been over for dinner in weeks. Everybody’s noticed.”
“When?” Setha’s husky voice cracked as laughter intervened. “Between all of your dates and Daddy’s golfing weekends?” She rolled her eyes and went behind her desk. “Don’t act like all of you sit around the dinner table every Sunday missing me.”
“All right. We don’t, but we damn well know somethin’ ain’t right with you.”
“Sam—”
“Hush,” he said, index finger slicing the air. “I won’t stand for it, Set. None of us will. Now you can either come clean with us or we can have fun makin’ a big ole mess while we find out on our own.” He reached across the desk and grabbed her hand to tug her into the kiss he placed on her forehead. “See you soon,” he called on his way out of the door.
Setha turned and propped her rump on the edge of the desk. The very last thing she needed was Samson, Paolo and Lugo Melendez making a “big ole mess.” On the other hand, she couldn’t argue the point that having them make a mess might keep her dangerous pursuer off her back long enough to find out if the guy was just some weird stalker she’d attracted or if her entire family had something to fear.
She’d hoped to have more time to scope out the Ross Review but hadn’t once thought of doing that after meeting Khouri Ross. If first impressions were anything to go on, the Rosses were quite deserving of all the respect they wielded in and around Houston.
What she’d uncovered so far, though, told her there was definitely some connection between her “stalker” and Wade Cornelius. Now the man was dead…. She had to find out more regarding that connection. So far it was her only lead and it’d been sheer dumb luck that had brought her to it. Digging deeper would probably bring her more of nothing, but she had to check it out at least.
It would help to have someone to bounce her suspicions off of, she couldn’t deny that. A confidant, however, would either help solve this thing, or think she was crazy and involve her family. If they weren’t involved already.
* * *
“Sorry I missed you earlier, Gwen.”
Gwen Bennett was on her way out of the conference room following the Houston Journal’s weekly interdepartmental meeting.
“’Salright, Brew, wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait,” she told her colleague.
Brewster Keegan’s expression personified confidence. “Finally takin’ me up on my dinner invitation, huh?”
Gwen shook her head, chuckling softly while she did so. “Brew, you know I don’t date men with girlfriends—even if girlfriend knows she’s not the only one.”
“You drive a hard bargain, G.” Brewster didn’t appear offended or discouraged. “So I guess that means you came by my office to talk business, huh?”
“Got it.” Gwen gave a toss of her chin-length bob and held her portfolio in front of her chest. “I wanted to talk to you about something you said a few weeks back—about Wade Cornelius.”
“Yeah, my story on the murders.”
“Murders?”
“The immigrant murders, you know?” He nudged her arm as if to jog her memory. “Cops have squat, but they know all the vics worked for some part of Machine Melendez.”
“So what’s that got to do with Wade Cornelius?”
Brewster moved in closer. “The connection between the victims and Melendez is big news and Ross hasn’t released it yet.”
“So? Neither has the Journal.”
A sobering light filtered Brewster’s dark blue gaze then. “You and Avra Ross are pretty good pals, right?”
Gwen rolled her eyes toward the sienna-colored pumps she wore. “That hurts, Brew.”
“I’m sorry, G. I didn’t mean for it to.” He nudged her elbow again before glancing back across his shoulder. “It’s just we’re not tryin’ to rock the boat releasin’ this stuff. ’Specially when we suspect a cover-up.”
“And you suspect Ross?”
“We don’t, but all the vics are MM employees. Ever since Cornelius wrote that first story back in the day on the company, Melendez has been made to look like some kind of white knight when everyone knows they’re not.”
Gwen tapped her fingers to her chin, absorbing the information.
Brewster brought his hand to her elbow again but held on that time. “I wouldn’t mind sharing the spotlight with you if you can use your connections with the lovely Ms. Ross to find out if holding back the info was intentional on the Review’s end.”
“I wouldn’t expect her to tell me all that, Brew. We’re pals but still competitors, remember?”
Brewster slipped a hand into a pocket on his green trousers. “We’re bankin’ on the fact that Ross isn’t tryin’ to run a story there. They’ve always seemed to be intent on protecting the Machine’s image. On this side of town, we’re workin’ to pull back that image and show the true face of Melendez. I swear we’re not out to take down a colleague in the process.”
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