All My Broken Dreams (Locksley Hall #1)

Chapter Nine

“I think you should brace yourself for disappointment,” he said. “If he hasn’t been in contact, maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to be found. How long do you have on your ticket?”

“I’ll get an extension if I have to. I can apply for a visa. If I enroll in an academic institution, that will get me six months. Whatever I need to do, I’ll do it. I went through hell to come this far. I’m not going to give up until I know where he is.”

Deacon hesitated as if about to say something else and then changed his mind.

“Go ahead and use the bathroom first,” he said with a nod. “I have to finish up in the kitchen. You want a shower? There’s enough hot water. Clean towels are on the shelf.”

“Thanks. I’d love a shower after traveling all day.”

Something had changed with him. He was staring at the sink full of soapy dishes as if that was better than making eye contact with her. Deacon Wake was covering up something that was connected to Harry, but she couldn’t see where the cover-up was taking place. Was it in Harry’s apartment? Or was it connected to the drugs he claimed he procured for her brother? Drugs from a veterinarian … she had to talk to this vet and find out what kind of drugs. Maybe Harry had a bad reaction and was in a coma in a hospital.

Robbie rummaged through the mammoth suitcase for her toiletries bag and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She peeled off her tights, the dirty skirt and sweater, and bundled them in a pile on the floor. Her knees were healing and the cut on her cheek was looking better. The green bruise was turning a lovely mauve color. It could have been worse. So much worse.

Considering the circumstances, the girl staring back at her in the bathroom mirror seemed strangely calm, as though resigned to her fate.

And what fate is that?

Robbie turned off the question as she twisted the old-fashioned and pulled the stopper to start the shower. She couldn’t think about that right now.

Deacon waited until he heard the shower running before reaching for his phone.

“She’s his sister,” he told the voice on the other end. “She’s here to find Harry and she’s not going to leave until she does.”

Alastair’s breathing changed. “What’s her name?”

“Rowena Listowel. She goes by the name of Robbie. Harry is her half-brother.”

“What else?”

Deacon rubbed his forehead. “She doesn’t know who his father is. Their mother never told them. Harry doesn’t know either.”

“Where is she staying? What hotel?”

“Not at a hotel. I had to bring her to my place.”

Dead silence on the other end. “You have her in the same building Harry used to live in. Why would you do that, boy?”

He wasn’t afraid of his uncle. He understood him better than anyone, and he understood that Alastair wasn’t angry with him–he was concerned about his nephew’s well-being. The best thing to do was tell him the truth. But Deacon resisted.

“I thought it was better to keep her interested in this place and not in Dugald Croft. Harry has family in Scotland. I told her he could’ve gone to stay with them for a few months. She seemed to buy that.”

“And she’s there with you now?”

“Just until she can find a hotel.”

“No, no, this is good. You can be my eyes and ears while she’s here looking for Harry. Keep her busy and distracted until I tell you otherwise. Send her on a wild goose chase with false leads and misdirection. Do you think you can handle that, son?”

“I’m a gormless oaf. If she doesn’t want to spend time with me, I can’t force her.”

Alastair chuckled. “Not force her, lad, charm her. You’ve had your successes in the past, Deacon. Take an interest, listen if you don’t know what to say, make her feel special.”

“I can’t have a girl in my room; I’ll lose my job.”

“I’ll have a word with the Ethics chair. All I am asking you to do is squire her around town; show her the sights. I’ll pay for it. Find out everything you can and report back to me.”

“What am I trying to learn? She’s already told me everything she knows.”

“I want to know about her mother.”

Silence pressed against his ear and his heart pounded. Deacon tried to process what was going on with his uncle. “I know she’s a widow and Harry takes after his father in looks. I don’t understand the goal here, sir. What does Robbie’s mom have to do with this?”

“She’s Harry’s mother too and I want to know her agenda. When Harry turns twenty-five, he’s going to come into a very large, very valuable property in this country. His twenty-fifth birthday is in December. I want to ensure that his legacy is protected.”

Not for the first time since Harry Listowel arrived and was introduced to Deacon Wake, was he made aware of the gulf between them. Harry was smart; he could follow Alastair’s conversation and argue with him, whereas Deacon struggled to keep up.

He read every chance he got and did alright in school; his teachers said he could’ve gone to university, but Alastair wouldn’t pay his tuition. He said he was more valuable to him at Locksley Hall as the janitor to be his eyes and ears.

“Does Robbie know her brother is going to inherit when her mom dies?”

“The inheritance isn’t coming from her mother. Not directly. I’m not at liberty to tell you more. Watch her; follow her if she goes someplace without you. Better yet, don’t let her out of your sight. Get her to like you and trust you. Seduce her if you have to. Deacon, are you there?”

That last instruction paralyzed him into silence when the girl he was assigned to seduce emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a tee-shirt. His eyes drifted to her full breasts that were outlined under the fabric.

“I have to go,” he told his uncle and hung up.

She plucked at the hem of her tee-shirt with a self-conscious snort of laughter that was so dorky and cute, Deacon had to smile.

“Sorry about this. I thought I’d be crashing on my brother’s sofa. If I knew I’d be sharing a bed with a man I only just met, I would’ve packed the silk nightie my mother bought me last Christmas. It’s kind of a hilarious story, actually. Sarah thought the reason I rarely left my apartment was because I had a boyfriend. The nightie was supposed to help the romance along. Poor mom. There was no boy; only abject terror every time I stepped out of my apartment.”

“What you’re wearing is fine.” His neck was scalding. Seduce her? He could barely look at her without shaking.

His uncle was wrong when he said Deacon had success with women. Deacon turned into a tongue-tied, lumbering, inarticulate oaf around girls. He managed to lose his virginity at twenty-one and then lost the girl when she introduced him to her friends. A bunch of intellectuals from the Hall. He couldn’t follow or contribute to the conversation. The relationship petered out soon after and he didn’t have the courage to try again.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“My boss. I asked him to take me off the call list for this weekend. In case you need help with Mrs. Cameron.”

“That was nice of you.” She wrapped her arms over her chest. “I guess I can sleep in Harry’s room tomorrow night if she’ll let me. Right?”

“If his rent is paid up, sure, I don’t see why not.”

Her breasts jiggled under the tee-shirt. Her bare legs were slim and shapely.

Deacon flung himself into the bathroom, grabbing the pair of pajama bottoms hanging on a hook behind the door. He pulled off his clothes and flung them to a corner of the bathroom. Her scent was in the air.

“Is Sarah your mom’s name?” he called over his shoulder.

Good. That’s good, lad. Now, control your breathing. You’re panting like a wolf.

“Yes. Sarah Listowel. Deacon, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Yanking on the pajama bottoms with shaking hands.

“Is there something about my brother that you’re not telling me?”

He clawed his hair and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “No, why?”

The door opened behind him and Robbie stepped into the bathroom. His eyes lifted and held hers, reflected in the mirror. She paused, her mouth open as if she was about to say something and forgot.

“What do you need, Robbie?”

Deacon stared at her, willing her to leave the room before his body humiliated him.

Her arms snaked around her middle and she stood with one bare foot on top of the other. Rosy pink coloring crept over her cheeks and her pupils dilated.

His lower belly tightened. His cock expanded and he panicked a little.

Deacon saw her face change right before his eyes. He felt the breath in their bodies stall and the walls of the Art Deco bathroom that she liked so much close in around them.

It was claustrophobic. An impossible situation.

Impossible, because no matter what his uncle said and no matter what he wanted, Deacon could never, ever touch her.