Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(78)

“Because you always have.”

He glared accusingly at her. “I know you still blame me for your mother’s death. You suspected me of the worst from the moment I called to tell you the news. I still remember the way you carried on when you came home from England. Asking me all those questions about where I found her body, interrogating me like I was a f*cking murder suspect. Hell, if that spiteful woman had left a goddamn suicide note, you would have sworn I’d forged it!”

“She did.”

It took a delayed moment for her quiet words to register. When they did, Landis went completely still, his eyes narrowing on her face. “What did you say?”

Zandra calmly met his gaze. “My mother did leave a note. I received it after her funeral.”

It gave her some satisfaction to watch the blood leach out of her father’s face.

He shook his head in stunned denial. “You’re lying.”

“I assure you I’m not.”

“She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have left me without saying goodbye.”

Zandra sneered, driven to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. “If she’d wanted to say goodbye, she would have left the note for you instead of me. But why would she have done that when you’re the one she was trying to esc—”

Landis’s hand shot out, delivering a vicious backhand.

Pain exploded across Zandra’s cheek and down her jaw.

Refusing to cry out or show any weakness, she straightened slowly and looked him square in the eye. “Get out.”

Shaken, he stared at her. “Look what you made me do.”

Zandra laughed caustically. “After all these years, you’re still blaming others for your cruelty. What a pathetic excuse for a man you are.” She pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of my sight before I call security.”

He wavered another moment, then turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

It was only then that Zandra lowered herself into the nearest chair and slowly brought her hand to her stinging cheek. It hurt, but the pain radiating through her heart had nothing to do with any blow she could ever receive from her father.

Half an hour later, she was on her way out the door when Remy showed up.

She was wearing wide-lens sunglasses, so he couldn’t see the swelling flesh around her upper cheek.

“Hey.” He smiled, backing her into the apartment. “Looks like I caught you just in time.”

She frowned. “I’m really gonna have to talk to the concierge about letting you up without my permission.”

Remy’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“You obviously haven’t been watching the news,” Zandra snapped.

“I haven’t. After I got home, I took a shower and had some phone calls to return.” He searched her taut face. “Why? What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath that burned, then blurted out, “Have you been investigating my escort agency?”

He was taken aback. “Who told you that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just answer the damn question.”

His guilty expression spoke volumes before he answered quietly, “Yes.”

The floor tilted beneath Zandra’s feet. She’d wanted him to deny it. Had fervently prayed that he would deny it.

Reeling with shock and confusion, she stared at him. “How...how could you?”

Remy looked as if he were in acute pain. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it, Remington?” she demanded furiously. “Help me understand how you could go behind my back to investigate my agency.”

He swallowed hard. “Can we just sit down and—”

“You son of a bitch!” she exploded, ripping off her sunglasses. “How could you do this to me? I trusted you!”

Remy froze, staring at her in shocked horror.

Too late, she remembered her injured cheek.

“What happened to you?” Remy whispered.

Zandra didn’t respond.

As he reached out to touch her face, she jerked her head back and demanded, “Don’t.”

The savage fury that hardened his eyes chilled her to the bone. “Goddamn it, Zandra,” he growled. “Who hit you?”

She scowled. “Don’t change the sub—”

“Who. Hit. You?”

She hesitated, alarmed by the lethal menace in his voice. “It was my father.”

Remy’s face contorted with rage.

Zandra gulped hard. “Look—”

Without another word, Remy pivoted sharply on his heel and stalked off.





Chapter Twenty-One

“Where’s Kennedy?” Remy snarled, barging his way past the startled butler who opened the door to him.

“Is Mr. Kennedy expecting you?”

Ignoring the snooty old man, Remy strode through the cavernous foyer of the sprawling mansion, his boots crashing against the polished hardwood floor. As his thunderous gaze swung toward the sweeping staircase, the butler started forward indignantly.

“Sir, Mr. Kennedy is not avail—”

Hearing the sound of voices raised in argument, Remy took off down the arched hall, following the commotion to the open doorway of a huge, wood-paneled library.