She wasn’t hungry.
Not for food, anyway.
She wasn’t interested in conversation.
Not at the moment.
And most importantly, she didn’t want to sit there and pretend she was.
It had been a long day and sitting still was becoming too difficult. She wanted to move around, burn off some of the excess energy that she’d stored up. Her afternoon meeting had gone as she’d expected it to, definitely nothing to write home about, but most of the time that was the case. A little arm-twisting, a few well-placed smiles, and the dumb fuckers she dealt with on a daily basis were eating out of her hands.
But she wasn’t working now. She was supposed to be having a good time.
For the most part, she looked forward to these dinners. Seeing her brothers and sister, even her mother, wasn’t a hardship. They were close-knit, got along well, and when they weren’t talking about business, she could usually enjoy herself.
She just wasn’t feeling it today.
Initially, she’d thought tormenting Leyton would be enough to brighten her day, but as usual, he was doing his best to pretend she wasn’t there. Which annoyed the fuck out of her, because she knew how much he wanted her. He was simply being stubborn.
That didn’t stop her from admiring him. With his dirty-blond hair, those bright, celadon-green eyes, the expensive, tailored suit that covered an impressive body, and the air of confidence he projected, Leyton Matheson was pretty fucking easy on the eyes.
“You okay?” Jase asked, leaning over and speaking directly into her ear.
“Never better,” she said by rote. It was the answer everyone expected from her these days, though it was the furthest from the truth.
“Careful,” Jase teased, his raspy voice low and sensual, “or I’ll tell Walter you don’t like his cookin’. You know how sensitive he is.”
“Do it, and I’ll cut you off for a month,” she mumbled, offering him a sweet smile.
“You wouldn’t last five minutes,” Jase replied, his lips discreetly brushing her ear and sending a shiver down her spine.
The beautiful man who watched her back, gave her advice, and yes, warmed her bed at night, knew her all too well. And he was right; she wouldn’t last one day, much less a month. He’d recently told her she had an addiction to sex. Ashlynn wasn’t sure that was the case, but she could admit she used sex—and sometimes booze—to mask the pain and fill the void that stirred deep inside her. She slid a glance toward her mother and frowned. She’d learned from the best, apparently.
She needed some air.
Just when Ashlynn was getting ready to make an excuse to leave the table, Courtney’s cell phone rang.
“Sorry, I need to get this,” Courtney said, hitting the button and getting up from her seat. She didn’t make it far before she turned back to the table, the phone to her ear. “Yeah, Dom. We’re here. Send ’em over. We’ll be waiting.”
“What’s wrong?” Max inquired as all eyes turned to them.
“RT needs our help. A guy’s been kidnapped, and he’s bein’ held somewhere close to here.”
Aw, wasn’t that fucking cute. They were consorting with the enemy. Again.
Though Ashlynn adored her sister-in-law, she still had reservations about her family getting so involved with Courtney’s. As far as Ashlynn was concerned, the Adorites had a lot to lose, and trusting the Kogans wasn’t something she was all that comfortable with. When she’d mentioned it to Max, he’d assured her that they were on the same page and he would always be careful.
Max nodded at Courtney, then his eyes met Ashlynn’s briefly. “Stick around. We might need your help.”
Great. Fine. She’d stick around, but rather than pretend to be eating any longer, she was going to do something constructive—like have a drink—to pass the time.
Pushing back from her seat, she smiled down at Jase. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Not waiting for anyone to join her, Ashlynn disappeared to the formal living room, helping herself to a glass of Max’s finest brandy, which he kept in a decanter on a table in the corner. After pouring her drink, she wandered over to the windows and stared out into the night. The swimming pool was lit up, the rotating lights causing the water to change colors every fifteen seconds or so. It would’ve been peaceful if not for the voices she could hear coming toward her.
“Did you see the pumpkin on Max’s porch?” Madison asked as she joined Ashlynn a few moments later.
Ashlynn nodded, smiling at the memory of seeing that thing sitting there. Her brother had killed people in cold blood, didn’t bat an eye at forcing someone to do his bidding, and yet he’d softened enough to carve a damn pumpkin for a holiday none of them had ever celebrated.
“I heard Courtney’s niece came over and convinced Max to carve it,” her sister said.
“More like a dare,” Brent offered when he graced them with his presence. “One Courtney masterminded, I’m sure.”
“That makes more sense,” Ashlynn noted, holding her glass with both hands as she turned to face her siblings. “Max isn’t the pumpkin type. At least I didn’t think he was.”
“I think it’s cute,” Madison noted.
“You know I can hear you, right?” Max’s deep voice echoed in the space, bouncing off the windows and the hardwood, as he and Leyton walked into the room, followed closely by Victor. “And for the record, we started by droppin’ pumpkins from the balcony.”
“Of course you did.” Victor chuckled. “After all, you’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“Damn right I do,” Max grumbled, but a smile tilted the corners of his lips. “I try to remind my wife of that all the damn time.”
Ashlynn tossed back the rest of her drink, then went to pour herself another while the rest of them took a seat on the huge U-shaped sectional that took up most of the room. She preferred to stand, feeling too antsy to sit down. While she sipped her drink, she glanced over at Leyton. He was staring back at her from his position against the opposite wall. Or perhaps glaring was a better way to put it. He didn’t appear happy to see her, yet he wasn’t looking away.
It was during moments like this one that she could sense his interest, practically feel the steady warmth of his hands on her body. The way his eyes perused her from head to toe caused arousal to stir deep inside of her. Before she could confront him, a commotion sounded near the front door, and then several big men wandered by, following Courtney into Max’s office. The Sniper 1 Security team, she assumed.
“They need any help?” Brent asked, his question directed at Max.
“I’ll go find out,” Max told them as he nodded at Leyton.
Ashlynn wanted to come, too, so without waiting to be invited, she followed her brother and Leyton into Max’s office, then kept to the back of the room as the others seated themselves on the black leather sofas.
There was a cell phone sitting on the glass table between them, a deep voice rumbling from it. “Guy’s name is Thurston McElroy.”
“Thurston? Seriously? Who names their kid Thurston?” one of the guys asked.
Ashlynn knew who these people were because she had met them before. Most of them, anyway. The one she recognized most was Courtney’s brother, Trace. Then of course, there was RT and Z. And Courtney. There was only one person she didn’t recognize.
“Anyway,” the voice on the phone continued, “after I identified what account the wire had come from, I was able to get all the information we could ever want on this guy. And it looks like Amit’s GPS is still active, because the address I located for Thurston is, in fact, the same location the signal is coming from. Provided Amit is alive, we should be able to get in and get out, no problems.”
“The guy’s expecting the painting,” RT explained to the others. “I have no intention of handing over the original unless it comes down to life or death. The plan’ll be to use the second fake as a decoy until we can get Amit out of there.”
“Who’s gonna hand it over?” Trace asked.
“I am,” RT said.
Ashlynn’s sister-in-law spoke up. “Alone?”
“No.”
Z’s answer was quite adamant, and Ashlynn got the feeling there were some personal feelings there. Z had a thing for RT? Hmm. She wouldn’t mind watching a little of that action.