Ash gave a slow nod. His family had adored Remi from the moment he’d brought her to dinner. Not only because they knew how happy she made him, but because she was smart and funny and kindhearted. A woman just like his mother.
An emotion that was soft and wistful spread through him. “I know.”
Jax rose to his feet, squeezing Ash’s shoulder before giving him a small shove out of the cubicle.
“Now go see Mom before you’re the next homicide I have to investigate.”
Ash lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m going.”
* * *
Rachel Burke moved across the barren room to stare out the window. Night had settled over the private clinic while she’d been sleeping, revealing the Chicago skyline outlined in lights. She smiled. They shimmered like a thousand diamonds.
It was weird. She’d lived in the city for twenty-four years, but she’d never bothered to admire the view. Probably because Chicago wasn’t nearly so pretty up close and personal. At least, not in her neighborhood. Her view had included a grimy street that was lined with crumbling brick apartments and windows covered by wire mesh. Most days, she felt like a rat trapped in a cage.
She grimaced, then released a small grunt of pain. Lifting her hand, she gingerly touched her face. It was nearly healed, but it was still tender.
The price of success . . .
The words whispered through the back of her mind.
That’s what the director had told her. If she wanted to achieve her dreams, she had to be prepared to make sacrifices.
The first sacrifice had been leaving her home. Something Rachel had been eager to do. She lived in a pigsty with a drunk for a father and two younger brothers who expected her to be their unpaid maid. She’d wanted out for years, but with no high school diploma or job skills, she’d known she would end up on the streets. Or worse. Her only hope had been her beauty.
She’d been told she was pretty from the day she was born, and while her father had urged her to use her looks to attract a husband who could offer her a stable home in the suburbs, Rachel had refused. She wasn’t going to be satisfied with a boring life with a man she had to depend on to provide a roof over her head. She’d seen what it’d done to her mother. The woman had once been as pretty as Rachel, but after years of poverty and enduring beatings from a husband who wasted his paycheck on booze and gambling, she’d looked closer to sixty than forty when she’d died of a sudden heart attack.
Rachel intended to trade in her looks for independence. She’d booked a few local modeling gigs, although none of them paid. And she’d done one commercial for a used auto shop. It wasn’t until she’d been contacted by a real director that it seemed her dreams might actually come true.
The second cost of success, however, hadn’t been so easy to accept.
Her fingers carefully traced the reconstructed line of her nose. The alterations had been minor, but she’d been reluctant to agree. All she had was her face. What if some quack screwed it up? It was only the thought of being forced to return to her father’s apartment that made her go through the surgery.
Thankfully, she’d discovered that once the swelling had gone down and the bruises had faded, the modifications had actually improved her appearance. Her nose was thinner and her lips fuller. Plus, something had been done to make her cheekbones more prominent.
She went from pretty to stunning. And she hadn’t had to spend a dime of her own money.
Even better, her isolation at the clinic meant that her father and brothers couldn’t be a constant drain on her time or her newly acquired cash. They didn’t know where she was, or how to contact her. A win-win situation.
Of course, she couldn’t deny that she was starting to get bored . . .
On cue, the disposable phone that was lying next to the bed started to vibrate. Rachel eagerly rushed forward to snatch it off the nightstand and pressed it to her ear. “Hello,” she said in breathless tones.
“It’s time to take the next step in your career,” a voice informed her. “Pack your bag.”
The connection was abruptly ended, but Rachel’s lips curved into a smile of anticipation.
“Hell yeah.”
Chapter Eight
Remi hadn’t meant to eat the entire carton of moo shu pork along with all three pancakes. But Ash had remembered her favorite restaurant and her favorite dish. Plus, he’d even brought her favorite bottle of wine.
No woman could resist such temptation.
As they’d perched in front of the breakfast bar chatting about the challenges of teaching, Remi’s tension from the day had slowly eased.
That was the Marcel gift. All of the brothers had the ability to make people feel relaxed when they were around. She’d often envied their easy charm, watching as they transformed any gathering, no matter how dull, into an entertaining event filled with laughter.
Swallowing the last bite of her fortune cookie, Remi swiveled the high bar chair and slid off.
“I’m going to have to run an extra mile in the morning,” she groaned, wishing she’d changed out of her jeans into her stretchy PJ bottoms.
“We can do that.” Ash flipped a leftover egg roll toward the dog, watching him with adoring eyes. “Right, Buddy?”
Buddy swallowed the egg roll in one gulp and answered with a bark. Remi rolled her eyes. Her dog had already given his heart to Ash. And not just because he snuck him table scraps. The two of them had formed an instant connection.
Her heart fluttered. Not figuratively. It really and truly fluttered, like a butterfly zooming from flower to flower. There was something magical about a man who took the time to earn the trust of her dog.
Of course, she already knew that about Ash . . .
Trying to ignore the dangerous thoughts, Remi quickly cleared away the empty cartons, her movements jerky. “Are you ready to start on the files?” she demanded.
He tilted his head to the side, studying her with a curious expression. “You haven’t told me about your lunch with your mother.”
She grimaced. She didn’t want to discuss her mother. She never did. Their relationship was too complicated. Or maybe it wasn’t complicated. Maybe it was too superficial.
Whatever the reason, she preferred not to dwell on their awkward relationship. It made her heart twist with a painful sense of regret.
She met his gaze squarely. He’d already told her that he’d spent the afternoon at his parents’ house. “Do you want to discuss your lunch with your mother?”
He held up a slender hand. “Touché. My ears are still ringing from the lecture on how a respectful son doesn’t wait three months to visit home, regardless of the fact that I had a full teaching schedule for the semester.”
She reached for the bottle of wine that was half-full. “You grab the glasses.”
He didn’t argue, instead taking a glass in each hand and following her into the living room.
“We make a good team,” he murmured as they settled side by side on the couch.
She poured out the wine, feeling a heat seep through her. She told herself it was the alcohol, but she knew it had far more to do with the hard, male body only an inch away.
“Not really.” She lifted her glass to take a sip, ridiculously trying to deny the awareness that had sizzled between them from the first moment their eyes met. “We still haven’t found anything that could help identify the killer.”