The Dangerous Jacob Wilde

“Except, she didn’t exactly vanish.” Jaimie stole a strip of bacon from Jake’s plate. “Ellen Boorman said she made a scene and stalked out in a huff. Anybody know what happened?”

“No,” Travis and Caleb said, with one voice.

“Ellen said you were part of the scene and then you disappeared, too. So we thought you might have gone after her.”

His three sisters fixed him with laserlike stares. Jake coughed.

“Piece of biscuit,” he gasped. “Caught in my throat.”

Em rose, went to the sink, returned with a tall glass of water. Jake nodded and gulped down half.

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

“You’re not going to do an assessment for her?”

Jake narrowed his eyes at his brothers, who looked at each other then gave their complete attention to their mugs of coffee.

“Where’d you hear that?”

Lissa shrugged. “Around,” she said airily. “Are you?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Because?”

“Because,” he said, putting down his knife and fork, “because I’m not—I’m not—”

“Not what?” Em asked, and that was when he remembered he’d still not

told his sisters he wasn’t staying.

“Because he won’t have the time,” Jaimie said blithely, “once he’s taken up his duties here.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Jeez, Jaimie,” Caleb said.

Jaimie held up her hands. “What’d I do?”

“What duties?” Jake said carefully.

Travis sighed.

“Well, running El Sueño. Taking it over. You know.”

Jake narrowed his gaze.

“No, I don’t know. You want to tell me what you’re talking about?”

Caleb gave an elaborate shrug.

“Tom Sloane is retiring. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, the General thinks—”