* * *
Tony heard…the silence.
Finally, Shannon had settled for the night. Thank God. Much longer and his willpower would have given out. He would have gone back into her room and picked up where they’d left off before he’d caught sight of the damn blanket.
This place screwed with his head, so much so he’d actually brought up marriage, for crying out loud. It was like there were rogue waves from his past curling up everywhere and knocking him off balance. The sooner he could take care of business with his father the sooner he could return to Galveston with Shannon, back to familiar ground where he stood a better chance at reconciling with her.
Staying out of her bed for now was definitely the wiser choice. He walked down the corridor, away from her and that blanket full of memories. He needed his focus sharp for the upcoming meeting with his father. This time, he would face the old man alone.
Charging down the hall, he barely registered the familiar antique wooden benches tucked here, a strategic table and guard posted there. Odd how quickly he slid right back into the surroundings even after so long away. And even stranger that his father hadn’t changed a thing.
The day had been one helluva ride, and it wasn’t over yet. Enrique had been with his nurse for the past hour, but should be ready to receive him now.
Tony rounded the corner and nodded to the sentinel outside the open door to Enrique’s personal quarters. The space was made for a man, no feminine touches to soften the room full of browns and tans, leather and wood. Enrique saved his Salvador Dali collection for himself, a trio of the surrealist’s “soft watches” melting over landscapes.
The old guy had become more obsessed with history after his had been stolen from him.
Enrique waited in his wheelchair, wearing a heavy blue robe and years of worries.
“Sit,” his father ordered, pointing to his old favored chair.
When Tony didn’t jump at his command, Enrique sighed heavily and muttered under his breath in Spanish. “Have a seat,” he continued in his native tongue. “We need to talk, mi hijo.”
They did, and Tony had to admit he was curious—concerned—about his father’s health. Knowing might not have brought him home sooner, but now that he was here, he couldn’t ignore the gaunt angles and sallow pallor. “How sick are you really?” Tony continued in Spanish, having spoken both languages equally once they’d left San Rinaldo. “No sugar coating it. I deserve the truth.”
“And you would have heard it earlier if you had returned when I first requested.”
His father had never requested anything in his life. The stubborn old cuss had been willing to die alone rather than actually admit how ill he was.
Of course Antonio had been just as stubborn about ignoring the demands to show his face on the island. “I am here now.”
“You and your brothers have stirred up trouble.” A great big I told you so was packed into that statement.
“Do you have insights as to how this leaked? How did that reporter identify Duarte?” His middle brother wasn’t exactly a social guy.
“Nobody knows, but my people are still looking into it. I thought you would be the one to expose us,” his father said wryly. “You always were the impetuous one. Yet you’ve behaved decisively and wisely. You have protected those close to you. Well done.”
“I am past needing your approval, but I thank you for your help.”
“Fair enough, and I’m well aware that you would not have accepted that help if Shannon Crawford was not involved. I would be glad to see one of my sons settled and married before I die.”
His gut pitched much like a boat tossed by a wave. “Your illness is that bad?” An uneasy silence settled, his father’s rattling breaths growing louder and louder. “Should I call a nurse?”
Or his assistant? He wasn’t sure what Alys Reyes de la Cortez was doing here, but she was definitely different from the older staff of San Rinaldo natives Enrique normally hired.
“I may be old and sick, but I don’t need to be tucked into bed like a child.” His chin tipped.
“I’m not here to fight with you.”
“Of course not. You’re here for my help.”
And he had the feeling his father wasn’t going to let him forget it. They’d never gotten along well and apparently that hadn’t changed. He started to rise. “If that’s all then, I will turn in.”
“Wait.” His father polished his eighteen-karat gold pocket watch with his thumb. “My assistance comes at a price.”
Shocked at the calculating tone, Tony sank back into his chair. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Completely.”
He should have suspected and prepared himself. “What do you want?”
“I want you to stay for the month while you wait for the new safety measures to be implemented.”
“Here? That’s all?” He made it sound offhand but already he could feel the claustrophobia wrap around his throat and tighten. The Dali art mocked him with just how slippery time could be, a life that ended in a flash or a moment that extended forever.
“Is it so strange I want to see what kind of man you have matured into?”
Given Enrique had expected Tony to break their cover, he must not have had high expectations for his youngest son. And that pissed him off. “If I don’t agree? You’ll do what? Feed Shannon and her son to the lions?”
“Her son can stay. I would never sacrifice a child’s safety. The mother will have to go.”
He couldn’t be serious. Tony studied his father for some sign Enrique was bluffing…but the old guy didn’t have a “tell.” And his father hadn’t hesitated to trust his own wife’s safety to others. What would stop him from sending Shannon off with a guard and a good-luck wish?
“She would never leave without her child.” Like his mother. Tony restrained a wince.
“That is not my problem. Are you truly that unwilling to spend a month here?”
“What if the restraining order comes through sooner?”
“I would ask you to stay as a thanks for my assistance. I have risked a lot for you in granting her access to the island.”
True enough, or so it would feel to Enrique with his near agoraphobic need to stay isolated from the world.
“And there are no other conditions?”
A salt and pepper eyebrow arched. “Do you want a contract?”
“Do you? If Shannon decides to leave by the weekend, I could simply go, too. What’s the worst you can do? Cut me out of the will?” He hadn’t taken a penny of his father’s money.
