Sheri WhiteFeather – Cherokee Marriage Dare (страница 3)

Luke’s entire body tensed.

Another pirated file.

Damn it, he thought. Damn it all to hell. Maggie’s discovery was enough to get her killed. “Who else have you told about this?”

“No one.”

“Good.” At least she had the sense to keep quiet. Unable to finish his meal, Luke set his fork back on the table. This case was tying his stomach in knots. “What were you doing nosing around at the warehouse?” She wasn’t involved in the Connelly import business.

She sent him a tight look. “I wasn’t nosing around. I custom ordered some lace for a dress. When it arrived, the warehouse forwarded the package to me.”

A package that had accidentally contained one of the stolen files. Luke shook his head. Maggie had gotten herself tangled up in biological warfare over a dress. Somehow that made perfect, idiotic sense. “You’re going to turn that CD over to me and forget that you ever saw it.”

“Oh, no, I’m not. I’m keeping it until you agree to let me help you with the investigation.”

She tilted her head at a regal angle, and Luke cursed beneath his breath. Women in Altaria couldn’t inherit the throne, but that didn’t make Maggie Connelly any less of a princess.

Her oldest brother, Daniel, had inherited the throne. Although his very public, very lavish coronation was scheduled at the end of the month, he’d already taken a private oath before the United Chambers, becoming king of the small, sovereign nation. And now King Daniel had stolen files to worry about, information that had been smuggled out of his country. He doubted the monarch would appreciate his sister withholding evidence.

Luke had the notion to wring Maggie’s royal little neck. “You’re not getting away with this,” he said.

“And neither are you,” she retorted.

Their gazes locked in a battle of wills. Luke cursed again, only this time out loud. In that long-drawn-out moment, he knew he had met his match.

And now, damn it, he had to figure out what to do about her.

The Connellys’ Chicago mansion was a classic Georgian manor, located in the city’s most fashionable neighborhood. The brick structure sat like a monument, surrounded by a sweeping lawn.

Luke had been escorted to a sitting room, but he didn’t feel like sitting. Instead he stood beside a marble fireplace, waiting for Maggie’s brother Rafe. Overall, she had eight brothers, two sisters, a graceful mother and a powerful father, but Rafe was the one Luke had been working with on the Connelly case.

Leaning against the mantel, he glanced around the room and shook his head. He couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like this. Luke had found his own measure of financial success, and he appreciated antiques, but everything in the Connelly mansion was too grand for his taste.

A moment later he moved his arm, realizing it was dangerously close to what looked like a priceless vase. Ming Dynasty, Qing Dynasty. He didn’t know the difference, but knocking the damn thing over wasn’t the most prudent way to find out.

Rafe entered the room, and Luke moved forward to greet him. Rafe Connelly was anything but the computer nerd Luke had expected before they’d met the first time. He was athletic and hardworking, charming when he felt like it and fond of casual clothes and fast cars. Luke respected him immensely. And if anybody could turn Maggie around, he could. Although Rafe was levelheaded, he shared a bit of Maggie’s impulsive nature. Luke assumed she wouldn’t resent her brother’s intervention.

“Any luck?” Luke asked.

The other man shook his head. “She’s upstairs in her room, hissing like a cat. There’s no way she’s going to relinquish that CD. Not without a compromise.”

And I’m the compromise, Luke thought. Me and the investigation. “Did you tell her what’s on the CD?” he asked. Rafe had recently uncovered the existence of the pirated files, as well as the lethal material they contained.

Rafe gave him an incredulous look. “Not without consulting you first.”

They both fell silent, their expressions grim. They had discussed the severity of this case, the need for secrecy. Luke gazed out a French door. He could see a crop of distant shrubbery blocked in each wood-framed pane.

He turned back to Rafe. “What the hell are we going to do?”

“I don’t see that we have much choice. If we don’t allow Maggie to get involved, she intends to go snooping around on her own.” The other man pulled a hand through his wavy light-brown hair. “I swear, I could brain her.”

Luke knew the feeling. And he also knew what Rafe was getting at. Maggie was in more danger on her own than she was working by Luke’s side. And her having possession of one of the CDs made it even more critical. “I don’t need this.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Once again they fell silent. Luke thought about Tom Reynolds, who had been shot to death while on the investigation. His stomach clenched. If he hadn’t been out of town at the time, he could have given Tom the backup he needed.

“You’ll have to keep a close eye on Maggie.”

He looked up and slammed straight into Rafe’s dark-blue gaze. Was the other man blaming him for Tom’s murder? Or was it a reflection of his own guilt he saw?

They stood in the center of the room, the finery closing in around them. Luke knew what came next. He knew exactly what Rafe was going to say.

“I’m asking you to protect my sister, Luke. To treat her as if she was your own flesh and blood.”

He locked his knees to keep them from buckling. His own flesh and blood. A pain gripped his heart. The ever-constant ache that reminded him of what he’d done. Tom Reynolds wasn’t the only death he was responsible for. Twenty-seven years before, he’d let a beautiful little girl die. He would never forget the day her body had been found. The muggy summer day a farmer had discovered her, bruised and battered—tortured by a vicious attack.

“Promise me you’ll protect her.”

“I will,” Luke vowed. “I promise.” He would keep Rafe’s sister safe. With his life, he thought. With the only honor he had left.

The other man broke the tension with a grin. “It won’t be easy. Maggie’s one headstrong female.”

Luke couldn’t find it within himself to smile. But he rarely could. His joy had died twenty-seven years ago. “Yeah. I’ve already locked horns with her. I know what I’m up against.”

“You’re going to have to fill her in about what we’ve learned so far,” Rafe said. “I don’t want to give her an excuse to go poking around on her own.”

Luke squinted. “Fine. But first I want you to lay some ground rules. Tell Maggie that I’m the boss. This is my investigation, and whatever I say goes.”

Rafe agreed. “I’ll brief her, then send her down in a few minutes.”

He headed toward the French door. “Have her meet me outside. I could use some air.”

“Sure. And Luke?”

He turned, his boots heavy on the Turkish carpet. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Luke only nodded. Protecting Maggie Connelly scared the hell out of him. But her brother had entrusted him with the responsibility. And that was something a Cherokee man couldn’t deny.

Two

Maggie exited the house, then shoved her hands in her coat pockets to ward off the chill. Luke stood quietly, a lone figure surrounded by a winter garden, his face tipped to the sky.

In the distance, boxwood shrubs created a maze—a mystic castle of green. The maze was Maggie’s favorite spot at Lake Shore Manor. To her, it had always seemed dark and dangerous. Haunted yet beautiful.

Like Lucas Starwind.

He wore black jeans and a leather jacket, the collar turned up for warmth. On his feet, a pair of electrician-style boots crunched on the frozen grass. As she approached, he turned to look at her.

She continued walking, and when they were face-to-face, she waited for him to speak.

But he didn’t. Instead he let the wind howl between them.

Maggie had never met anyone like Luke. He had an edge, she thought. A dark and mysterious edge, like the maze. She used to play hide-and-seek there as a child, and as much as the twists and turns had frightened her, they had thrilled her, too.

Luke, she realized, produced the same staggering effect. He looked powerful in the hazy light. His cheekbones cast a hollow shadow, and his eyes bore permanent lines at the corners. From frowning, she decided, or squinting into the sun. In his hair, she could see faint threads of gray, so faint they almost seemed like an illusion.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “Do you want to go back inside?”

She shook her head. The air was sharp and chilled, but she didn’t want to break this strange spell.

“It’s going to snow,” he said. “By Friday. Or maybe Saturday.”

The weathermen claimed otherwise, but Maggie didn’t argue the point. Luke seemed connected to the elements. She attributed that to the loner in him, to the man who probably spent countless hours alone with a winter sky.

Although Maggie wanted to touch him, she kept her hands in her pockets. Luke wasn’t the sort of person you placed a casual hand upon. But, then, she knew what sparked between them was far from casual.

“Did Rafe talk to you?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes.

“Yes. He said I’m supposed to listen to whatever you say.” That, of course, had rubbed her the wrong way. Rafe had made her feel like a child rather than a grown woman. Then again, she had behaved badly in front of her brother, her Irish temper flaring.