Tempted (Harris Brothers #5)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Steph

A s I take a step towards my granny lying in her bed, asleep, I can’t help but notice how precious she is to me. But as I reach her, the warm smile suddenly lifts off my face. Her hair, always pristine, and not a hair out of place, is disheveled. Looking around the room, which she shares with another elderly woman, I see that the lamp on her side table has been shattered onto the floor. The afghan that she crocheted herself, normally lies proudly across the bottom of the bed, but tonight it’s crumpled into a ball in the corner of the bed. “Granny?” I call to her, but she doesn’t answer.

Granny’s hearing has been remarkably preserved over the years. The woman can hear a snail crawl. Granted, my visit isn’t planned, this woman would have heard my footsteps, as I approach. “Granny?” I call again, but it’s for naught. My beloved grandmother lies haphazardly on her bed, with her arms outstretched, like she put up a fight until the end. Her white silk pillow has grimy fingerprints on it from her assailant. Her mouth is wide open, as are her eyes, which I have the grace to gently force closed as I grasp my phone from my purse, and make the call I always dreaded, but knew that one day it would come. Whether it was made by me or by my cousin Moira, it was a roll of the dice.

Moira and I are the only two of the family that are here in North Carolina. All the rest are still in Scotland, our homeland. Moira brought granny out here years ago when she and I moved here, so that she could pursue her medical license, and to escape the hell that we both left at home. Her side of the family more so than mine, however, none of them remain innocent. The call to the authorities is quick, and I know that they will be in no rush to come after an eighty-five-year-old woman in a nursing home, regardless of whether I indicated that she was possibly asphyxiated. But the evidence is clear. I quickly pull the pillowcase off the pillow, grab the fresh bag from the garbage and tuck it inside, while searching for a replacement pillowcase in the linen closet outside the door.

If I know who did this, and I think I do, the soiled pillowcase will be a bargaining chip for Moira. I’ll risk a charge of tampering with evidence if it means sparing my cousin from a lifetime of hurt. Moira has been through enough already, possibly at the expense of her new love, Declan, and I’ll not have it. Not one bit of it. She deserves better. And if I know Declan and his family, for which I’ve grown accustomed to as of late, they’ll pull out all the stops to get to the bottom of this. I’d bet my life that this is related to Moira’s da, my uncle, rotting in jail.

By the unfinished cup of tea on the side table, I’d say that her roommate isn’t far away, or they finished her off first. There are no other signs of a struggle, not on her bed, not on the floor, and just as I’m about to check behind the curtain to the small living room area, I hear her voice down the hall. “Stephanie! Oh, Stephanie! Thank God you’re here!” Gretchen calls, accompanied by a man dressed in uniform, with the block words sewn into his left breast pocket that say, ‘SECURITY’. God love her. She went and nabbed a security guard to look after a murder case. Poor, arthritic old woman doesn’t know any better.

“Did you see the man that did this?” I ask, giving her a hug.

“He was Scottish. That I know for sure. Red hair, curls, eyes green and wild with anger.” She says, pulling back, only staying in the embrace for a breath. Clearly the woman is not rattled at all by this, being that Gretchen comes from Germany, and would have likely given the assailant a run for his money. Twenty bucks says that she went after him with her purse first.

“Was he with anyone?”

She shakes her head no. “No, just him. I thought he might be a family member, but when he had her pillow over her face, I thought maybe not.” The way that she says it, it’s like she’s confused, like she’s on the case.

“Did he hurt you?”

Proudly, she places a hand on her waist and puffs her chest out. “I may be an old lady, but I can defend myself. Curtis here was just on his break, otherwise he would have nabbed him before he got to poor Leery.”

Curtis stands there, still chewing on the half-eaten donut he’s holding, and I have half a mind to go get him fired for his nonchalance, if it weren’t for fear of upsetting Gretchen, who looks rather fond of him, despite his incompetence. This boy is just covering for a vacation, because if Edgar, the regular security guard, was here, this would never have happened. Guests are supposed to be announced prior to their arrival, even if they’re family. Clearly, Curtis wasn’t paying attention. Security here isn’t the best, however, the care that residents receive is impeccable. This was the paramount reason why Moira and I chose the establishment, thinking that nobody would ever come after granny, nor would they know the alias that we have her booked in here under. Obviously, it’s been discovered.

“Good. I’m glad.” I tell her. “I’ve got to call Moira.”

Curtis finishes his donut, still looking bored. I call my cousin, using two words that I thought I would never use. “Granny’s dead.” in my quick conversation. Although I hear the crack in her voice, I ignore it, so that I won’t hear my own as well.

“I’ll be right there.” Moira says, nearly breathlessly, and hangs up.

Malcolm peers at Moira, almost wincing, trying to piece it together. “So, Callum, is your brother.”

“Yes.” Moira nods, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Declan interjects. “We had a heated conversation with him earlier. He was...very upset to say the least.”

“What did he have to say?” Malcolm asks. His gaze comes back to me, and I try to find it in my heart to smile, despite the tragic circumstances. The last couple of weeks, ever since we worked together to bring Declan and Moira together in secret, we’ve formed somewhat of a friendship. I think that both of us would like to consider it more than friendship, but neither of us has acknowledged anything beyond a platonic...acquaintance.

“He said enough.” Declan iterates.

Maverick, Declan’s brother, and Malcolm’s cousin, draws in a deep breath and releases it.

Caleb, Declan and Maverick’s brother, and my cousin, enter the room. We’re sitting in the Harris Investments building, where it would be easiest for us to convene. “Whoa. Who died?” He asks with a soft chuckle. He looks around, seeing both mine and Moira’s faces, and grimaces, pulling the sides of his mouth downward, eyes bulging. “Shit. Sorry.”

Malcolm brings him up to speed, leaving out the part where the authorities dragged me and Moira’s granny’s body to the morgue, ignoring the fact that we believe she was murdered. After I briefly review what I found at the scene, feeling like I should write it on a sandwich board, since this is the fifth time and counting, that I’ve had to explain, he sits down. “So, what. He wanted to get in touch with Moira, and he did. Now what do you figure he wants?”

“Blood.” Moira states, her voice firmer than I expect. “He can’t accept the fact that our father is a fraud, and I won’t bail him out of prison.”

“So, he has to use his own money, see.” Declan illustrates. “James McTavish tried to pull a fast one over on Moira, but he lost the battle, since Moira is far too smart.”

“And your investigators are top notch.” Moira adds modestly.

“Nonsense.” Declan waves. “You had it figured out within seconds of seeing him behind the Plexiglass.”

Caleb changes the subject. “And you think it was your brother? But I don’t get it. Leery was his granny, too, right?”

Both Moira and I nod.

“And he’d kill his own granny over this?” Caleb checks.

“He was drunk off his rocker. Probably on drugs, too, when he showed up here last night, looking for me.” Declan adds.

I’d shown Gretchen, my granny’s roommate, a picture of Callum, from my phone, and she confirmed that it was him that placed the pillow over granny’s face, while she slept, and killed her. I pass my phone over to Maverick, to show him the same photograph, and he nods. “That’s him.”

“Looks like he’ll be joining his da in prison.” Declan states.

“That’s if the authorities do anything about it.” Caleb reasons. “An eighty-seven-year-old woman living in a nursing home...hell, they’ll chock that up to her dying in her sleep.”

“She was sleeping, according to her roommate.” Moira adds.

Caleb leans forward in his chair. “Something tells me this isn’t just about granny’s untimely death. This is more about Callum’s unfinished business.”

“We should let Cullen know...and da.” Maverick states.

“He’s already come after us and gotten nowhere.” Caleb whines, irritated. “Sure, the man pushed a pillow over the face of a sleeping senior citizen, but the man is otherwise harmless.”

“You really think so, man?” Declan scoffs. “You sure didn’t think so when goons were coming after you and your kin not so long ago.”

“That was different.” Caleb counters. “This is Moira’s brother for chrissake. A drunken loser from the sounds of it. He probably used his life savings to fly out here to North Carolina. I bet you he doesn’t even have the dough to get back home.”

“What’s money got to do with it, asshole?” Maverick scolds. “As long as the lad can hold a gun and he’s got the drive to use it, it doesn’t matter.”

“Did he have a gun, loser?” Caleb argues. “He tried to punch you, dude. He didn’t even have a gun. He probably doesn’t even own one or know how to use one.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Moira states, trying to be helpful, as Malcolm’s gaze slides back to me. “I have no idea what he’s been up to. He liked beebee guns as a child, but I don’t think he ever took an interest in any sort of weaponry.”

“From the sounds of it he’s been working out.” I add. “Last time I saw Callum, he couldn’t have been more than a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet. He was a man, sure, but he wasn’t a large man, fool enough to come after the likes of you boys.” I explain, glancing at the Harris family, those that are present, that is. All the boys are larger than life. Billionaires, built like they more so belong in a fighting ring. Champions of their land management business, these boys have been expertly trained since birth to turn profit. Malcolm, although a cousin to these Harris boys, still bears the Harris name and uses it with pride.

And I chide myself for looking at him the way that I am right now.

At a time like this.

My granny’s deathbed isn’t even cold yet, and all I can think about is bedding Malcolm.

His warm, caring, concerned eyes gaze at me...and I’ve never been more turned on by a man before.

“We need to keep these girls safe until we can find Callum.” Declan states, breaking me from my reverie. “I’ll keep Moira at my place, since her building’s security is about as reliable as that of the nursing home.”

“Steph can stay with me.” Malcolm offers, letting the thought roll of his tongue as naturally as saying my name.

Declan, Maverick and Caleb exchange a look, which I catch, but Malcolm does not. “It’s strictly for protection.” I add, using my warning tone. “Malcolm and I are just friends.”

“That’s not what he told me, lass.” Declan states fairly. “He said that you two were seeing each other.”

I raise a brow at Malcolm and his face turns pink, making my heart flutter. He turns to his cousin. “I told you that in confidence, asshole. Nobody else was supposed to know that.”

“Including Steph, evidently.” Caleb snorts.

“Grow up.” I tell him.

“Look, these lasses have just lost their granny. This is no time for high school bullshit.” Caleb argues.

Declan sobers. “Fine, brother. What’s the plan, hm?”

Malcolm shrugs. “We tell da and he gets Cullen and his crew on it. I’m sure one small granny dead will be a walk in the park for them. They’ll find Collum and get him to confess, ship him back to Scotland, if he hasn’t already scurried back there, and threaten to chop his balls off unless he stays the hell away from these girls once and for all.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” Caleb says, unimpressed.

“Fuck you, man.” Malcolm whines. “Have you got anything better?”

Caleb rises and walks towards the door, having had enough.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” I tell them. “I’ll let Jack and Dalton know what’s happened, so they can have security on guard.”

Malcolm rises and takes steps towards me. “No need, lass. Me and Declan have a meeting with them later. We can let them know. There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

Declan also rises, as we all get ready to leave the boardroom. “If there’s been a death in your family, lasses, I doubt that the Ford brothers will expect you back in the office, anyway.”

Malcolm nods. “That’s true. How about I swing you by your place to grab some things, and then take you to my place, so you can get yourself settled?”

The thought of being alone with Malcolm right now is a double-edged sword. Being in his presence sets my pulse off, waking things in my body that have long forgotten what it’s like to be around a man like him, but I also feel shameful. Why my body is turning at a time like this is beyond me. Malcolm and I, up until his bashful acknowledgment not five minutes ago, have been just friends. And it’s taken this tragedy to open a door that was otherwise closed. “Sure. Let me just call over to Colton and let him know.” I’d slipped out on my lunch to visit granny, and I haven’t returned. The least I can do is put his mind at ease; in case he is worried.

“Call him on the way, lass.” Malcolm says, and his hand goes into mine, as he guides me out the door.

“I’ll talk to you later, Moira.” I tell my cousin, giving her a warm glance through pursed lips. Neither of us are the emotional type, but granny meant a lot to us both. Moira answers with her own smile and wink.

We exit the building through the back and get into Malcolm’s truck. He’s silent all the way to my place, and I find it peculiar that he doesn’t have to ask where I live, but all the same, it isn’t peculiar. We are both employed by his Uncle Dougall Harris, CEO of Harris Investments, and anyone that sets foot in this company is given a full investigation. It wouldn’t surprise me if at one point in time or another, that my house was staked out by someone either related to or in the employ of one of the Harris boys. As we arrive at my modest home, a small condominium not far or dissimilar to my cousin Moira’s, Malcolm follows me inside, not offering to wait in the truck.

“Can I give you a hand with anything, lass?” He asks, and it’s the first thing he’s said since we left Harris Investments together. He didn’t even utter a word when I spoke briefly to Colton Ford on the phone on the way over.

“No, that’s okay.” I tell him with a small smile. Malcolm has never been inside my home. I’ve had my share of men here, but never one like this. As he releases my hand, the electric charge from his touch remains. It’s like my feelings for him have suddenly awakened, and I’m not sure what to do with them. Normally, I’ll have bedded a man by now, but with Malcolm, our friendship, albeit accidental, has been nothing but innocent until now. “So, you told Declan that you and I were seeing each other?” I test.

“Aye.” He nods, face pink again. “I’m sorry if I offended you, lass. I just...I shouldn’t have said anything. I suppose that my hopes are showing. My cousins seem to have a microscope on me at the best of times, and I didn’t want anything to happen without their knowledge.”

“I’d call that putting the cart before the horse, wouldn’t you?”

He shrugs, but his tone is reasonable. “Call it what you want to, lass. But we have been spending some time together recently.”

“And you call that a relationship, Malcolm?” I ask, but my angle is mild. I’m merely testing him, not accusing him.

“I don’t have much experience with relationships, lass. I’ll admit. But I’d rather be upfront and honest with the people that sign my paychecks, than have them find out later, and be guilty of hiding something.”

I admire his honesty. I also think he’s adorable. I also can’t deny that he’s right.

He changes the subject. “So, what are you going to do about this kin of yours that’s after you? Were you close to him?”

“I never cared for the little fucker if you want the truth. I haven't seen him in years, of course, but the last time I saw him he was a whiny, spoiled, little mama's boy. I didn't see him for a number of years, but Moira was always telling me that he was always in trouble with the lasses.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“He's a true Scot. All about the drink and the whores.”

“I suppose that you like him even less now that he's murdered your granny.”

“That lad needs to fry in jail. But I know that the justice system here in the States pales in comparison to the one in Scotland. And since he's probably fled back home, he'll go into hiding now, and he'll get off.”

His hands rest on my hips comfortingly. “Once my Uncle Dougall gets wind of this, he'll help, I'm sure of it. Especially since the motherfucker came after us first.”

I can't deny the increased blood flow through my body at his touch. I allow myself a glance at his lips. I notice that his eyes go to my lips as well. Although my mind is all over the place right now, there is no mistaking one thing, and that is that I'm hopelessly attracted to Malcolm Harris right now. Granted, I've been with my share of men, and I don't normally ignore my healthy libido. But something has kept me from reacting, and something continues to halt my reaction to his touch, despite knowing that Malcolm likely feels the same way about me.

I shake off the feeling of lust, forcing myself to focus on the subject at hand. “Aye, I'm not one to rest once I've been fucked, Malcolm. Whether your Uncle Dougall helps or not, Callum will pay for this. For defending his guilty da at Moira's expense, for coming after my family, and for killing our granny. Mark my words, Malcolm. I will not rest until that man pays dearly.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“I've got something better than a plan, Malcolm.” I say, feeling my purse strap still over my shoulders, knowing what I've stored inside there, arming myself against my cousin.

He lifts his brows, interested. “What's that, lass?”

I use one word that says it all. “Evidence.”