A Bad Boy is Good to Find(62)

Con rubbed his mouth nervously with his hand. Lizzie instinctively went up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked almost startled to see her. “It probably isn’t even him,” he said, blinking.

“Maybe not,” she said softly. “But it can’t hurt to meet the guy.”

“What if I don’t recognize him?”

“It’s been a long time; I don’t think anyone would expect you to. Come on.” She linked her arm though his and led him around the side of the house. A blitzkrieg of lights had been set up near the Eyewitness News van camped there, and Lizzie saw the reporter having a microphone attached to her lapel and the back of her waist.

A pickup truck pulled in behind the news van.

“Do you suppose that’s his truck?” whispered Lizzie, as they hung back in the shadows.

“Could be.” Con’s voice was barely audible. The door of the truck opened, and someone got out. A big guy. Bigger than Con. It was hard to see much in the mauve semidarkness.

“Come on, Con,” hissed Maisie behind them. “We need you in the lights.”

“I’ll just wait here,” whispered Lizzie.

“No way.” Con tugged her hand. “I need you.”

A funny warm feeling smothered her jangling nerves and tightened her hand around his as they stepped cautiously toward the lights.

The reporter fiddled with her mike and said something to the cameraman. She gestured to the large man who’d climbed out of the truck.

He didn’t look anything like Con.

She squeezed Con’s hand.

As he stepped into the light, she saw the man had sun-bleached hair and rough-looking features. Totally unlike Con’s dark hair and aristocratic profile. Nut brown skin, a worn T-shirt, dirty jeans and pale rubber boots completed the contrast.

Lizzie bit the inside of her mouth. There was no way this could be the guy. Was Con feeling the same pinch of disappointment?

Con made a strange sound and let go of her hand. He said something she couldn’t understand. The big man let out a long, colorful curse, stepped forward and embraced him in a bear hug.

Lizzie stepped back out of the light. Did Con really think this was his brother? Wasn’t he supposedly called Tiny because he was so small?

Headlights raked over her as another car pulled into the driveway. Dwight? Timing was never his strong suit. Gia rushed forward to intercept him.

Con and the big man had pulled back slightly to stare each other in the face. Con said something, but again she couldn’t make it out. Too much emotion in his voice.

“You did what you had to do,” said the other.

Con was crying. Tears glittered on his cheeks, and she could see his shoulders heaving. She bit her knuckle, suddenly horribly embarrassed for him, with all the lights and technicians and cameras and total strangers standing around gawking.

Shouldn’t they all get out of here and leave him in peace? She started to back away as the brothers embraced again, even tighter.

Tears stung her eyes and she bit down harder on her knuckle, drawing pain, anything to distract from the uncomfortable mix of sensations boiling inside her.

“Lizzie.” A hissed voice from the darkness made her spin around. A long narrow face topped by a thick head of wheaten hair emerged from the gloom.

“Dwight?” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and walked away from the lights and cameras..

“Why are you shooting out here in the dark?”

“No power in the house. Con’s meeting his brother.”

“Who?” Dwight wrinkled his face impatiently.

Did Dwight not even know about Con? A chill trickled through Lizzie as she remembered how she’d kept Con a secret from everyone. Her own prize, her dream, that she didn’t want anyone to trample on. Or was it because deep down she knew he wasn’t one of them and they wouldn’t really accept him?

He’d be one of them now, though, as heir to this place and a fortune in vintage sheet metal.

Shame seared through her at the superficial thought. She didn’t deserve someone like Con, who’d been through so much and emerged a warmer, nicer person than she’d ever be.

Dwight tapped his foot impatiently on the tarmac. “Where’s Maisie?”

Lizzie shook her head and gulped. “I don’t know. She’s out here somewhere. They’re in the middle of shooting, though, so you might want to go wait inside.”

Dwight smacked at a mosquito above the collar of his striped oxford shirt. “Ugh, this is ridiculous! I fly all the way down here and now—”

“Shhhhh!” came a hiss from the darkness.

Dwight stalked off to the house.

“Lizzie!” Lizzie jumped as Con said her name. “Come here.”

Anxiety spiked inside her as he beckoned her into the harsh glare of the television lights. What did he want with her?

“I want you to meet my brother, Danny.”

Her heart thudded as she walked toward him in slow motion. How did he know for sure it was his brother?

Con seized her hand as she came close. “Danny, this is Lizzie, the woman who brought me back down here. I wouldn’t have had the courage to come without her.”

Lizzie’s breath evaporated, and the television lights stung her eyes. “Hello,” she managed, as a large, very rough hand grabbed hers and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

Her words sounded stupid, but she had no idea what to say. She noticed that Con’s brother had tattoos on both forearms. His features, blunt and forbidding in the harsh light, melted into a smile when he spoke.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Lizzie. I’ve wished for this moment for ten long years.” A gentle voice, with its almost European-sounding accent. “Thank you for bringing my brother back to me.”

Lizzie colored, partly as a result of the strong emotion zinging between all three of them and partly out of embarrassment that her motives were so very different. She’d dragged Con here to punish him, and her plan had turned inside out.

She heard harsh whispering off to one side, and the Eyewitness News reporter stepped into the light.

Lizzie barely heard a word of the interview that followed. She backed away out of the light, slipping her hand from Con’s as he answered a question. Out in the darkness, Maisie fumed and stamped about being scooped, while a producer from the news station reminded her they’d been the ones to find Danny and she’d get her turn in a minute.

It seemed like an hour before all the news vans packed up their equipment and rolled off into the steamy darkness. Lizzie was ashamed to find herself hoping Danny Beale would climb back into his truck and roll away too, but of course he didn’t.

Con and his brother talked, animated and excited, touching each other a lot as if they couldn’t quite believe the other person was really there and they needed to make sure. Both beaming. She could see the resemblance between them now, even in the darkness. Not just features but gestures and the cadence of their speech. She knew she should feel very happy for Con, and part of her did, but the rest of her was…

Jealous? She wanted Con all to herself again.