"I thought you said you just pulled out a huge stash and put it in the upstairs office just for incidentals. Use that."
"I didn't pull out enough for a date."
Ty patted his pockets with a small frown. "I think I left my wallet upstairs. I have no idea what's in it, but you should have plenty in your account if I don't have enough cash on me."
"I think I'm overdrawn. I haven't had a chance to make any deposits with everything going on."
Tyson shrugged. "Just use the family account then." He turned away from Sam on the pretext of getting back to work, but he was furious that Edward Martinelli had virtually threatened his cousin. Sam might not want him to get involved, but he was definitely going to be sorting out the problem. Martinelli had endangered the two people in the world that mattered to Tyson--Sam and Libby.
He had no idea why Libby had always been so important to him, but since the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, she'd always been there, at the back of his mind, not dominating his thoughts, but never forgotten.
It had been like that for him since the day he'd seen her with the accident victim at Harvard. Before that, he'd been happy enough to just watch her, see the expressions chasing across her face, listen to the sound of her laughter. Libby Drake was meant for him. She didn't even know how much a part of his life she'd become.
"YOU can't see her," Sarah said, her voice low but firm. She planted herself squarely in the doorway to prevent Tyson from getting around her.
Ty glared at her, not in the least intimidated by the oldest Drake sister. Their clash had become a daily ritual. "I'm beginning to think you're holding her prisoner in this house. I want to see her with my own eyes to make certain she's all right."
"Has it occurred to you that she might not want to see you?" Sarah asked bluntly.
"I have no idea why you're being so hostile." He itched to shake the woman. She just stood there studying him as if he were a foul smelling bug under a microscope. He had always enjoyed watching the Drake sisters together, but now he just wanted the eldest to disappear. He let his breath out slowly and changed tactics. "I only want to see her for a few minutes just to make certain she's all right. I'm not kidnapping her." He'd considered it just to get her away from her family.
Sarah raised her eyebrow. "It must have crossed your mind if you think you have to assure me you aren't here to kidnap my sister."
"Why are you so hostile?" Tyson repeated. "I'm not exactly a stranger to you."
"The gate was locked. How did you get here?"
He rolled his eyes, sick of the delays and her obstinacy. He had no patience for what he considered total idiocy. It was difficult enough to work on the niceties without having to put up with Sarah Drake's obstinacy. He detested having to be socially correct just to get past the door to see Libby-- and the more difficult they made it for him, the more he dug in his heels, determined to visit her.
"I drove my car, parked it below in the drive and walked right up. The padlock was on the ground and the gate was open. In any case, Sarah, the fence isn't all that high and I've been known to go mountain and rock climbing. I doubt if your little gate or fence would stop me."
Sarah stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. "The padlock was on the ground?"
He clenched his teeth. "You aren't slow-witted are you? Because if you are, I'll speak more distinctly and enunciate every word."
Her gaze narrowed. "If you're trying to be funny, you aren't succeeding."
"I want to see Libby now." He tried not to sound belligerent, but his tone made even him flinch. He was definitely at the end of what little patience he possessed.
Movement behind Sarah caught his eye and he stepped closer, expecting Sarah to give way, but she held her ground dead center in the doorway.
"Quit skulking like a little coward, Libby," he said. "I'm tempted to pick your sister up and toss her into the shrubs."
Sarah snorted derisively, but stepped back when Libby squeezed by her.
Libby's appearance shocked him. She had always been petite, but now she was gaunt, so thin and pale she looked a wraith. There were dark circles under her eyes and shadows in them--but she was glaring at him. "Are you threatening Sarah?"
"Not yet, but I was considering it."
"Sarah would flatten you if you touched her," Libby said.
"Maybe, but you don't look in any condition to flatten me, so I'll take my chances with you." He lifted her into his arms, removing her from the doorway and striding right into the house.
He felt a curious shift under his feet as he entered, but before he could think about it Libby turned into a bundle of fury, thumping hard on his chest. He waited for the pain from his broken sternum to jar him, but surprisingly, he felt nothing at all.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm not some rag doll for you to toss over your shoulder so you can strut around like a he-man."
It took great effort not to smile. He liked her furious; she seemed to get that way only around him, and that was far better than no reaction. Tyson put her down in the middle of the living room, steadying her as she rocked away from him. He searched for some way to break the ice and, as always, obscure facts were the first thing that came to mind. "Did you know that Shamans used dolls for healing? Some painted dolls red in order to raise the dead. And in parts of Alaska, the Shaman carved a woman's figurine to cure infertility."
"Tyson." Libby interrupted him, fists on hips, her head tipped back to look up at him. "You've finally gone completely insane. You force your way into my home, toss me over your shoulder like some ridiculous caveman--"
He held up his hand to stop her. "There's no need for melodrama. Stick to the facts, Libby. First off, I didn't force my way in, I stepped across the threshold like any other man. Second, I didn't toss you over my shoulder. I cradled you against me with enormous care, despite my broken ribs, I might add."
As he talked, he walked around the room, examining first the mosaic on the floor and then studying the walls.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "He's all yours, Lib. If you need me, just call. I'll be with Kate up in her room. Getting rid of bodies is a specialty of hers. Just a little thought to leave you with."
Tyson frowned after her. "I thought Kate was a writer." "Of murder mysteries," Libby said with exaggerated patience.
"Oh, that's right. I read one of her books once. It wasn't a bad story."
Libby gritted her teeth. "Did you come here for a reason, or just to annoy me?"
He heaved a sigh. It wasn't going very well. "Of course I came here for a reason. I just gave your sister a compliment. I don't see how that could possibly annoy you unless--" He drew the word out, his face brightening. "You can't be jealous? Kate's engaged and I'm pretty old-fashioned about that kind of thing. If a woman's engaged she's off-limits."
"Good to know." Libby gave up and sank into a comfortable chair, watching him prowl around her house, a bit reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes. "Are you looking for something?"
His gaze went back to the mosaic on the floor. "I don't know, bat wings and eye of newt. The supermodel with a cauldron."
Libby hissed her breath out between clenched teeth. If she wasn't careful her teeth were going to shatter from the pressure. "My sister's name is Hannah and at the moment she's at the hospital with Jonas where she's been for the last week and a half, night and day along with one of my other sisters. Tyson, I'm running out of patience."
He wasn't scoring any points with her. He didn't seem to be able to censor himself, although he was trying. He was just so shaken up by the sight of her starkly white face. She seemed almost ethereal, as if a good wind could blow her away. And she held herself stiffly, her arms wrapped around her middle, as if her chest was sore. There was wariness in her eyes and he realized the things he'd said so abruptly about her sister had really hurt her.
Tyson turned around, his piercing blue eyes resting on her face, his expression suddenly lost. "I came to see how you were doing. You scared the hell out of me
, Libby, and your sisters wouldn't tell me how you were doing." He stepped closer, towering over her, shadows stealing into the depths of his eyes. "Ten days. I haven't been able to sleep or eat or even work the way I should. You put me through hell."
Libby opened her mouth to respond and abruptly closed it. Part of her wanted to yell at him to just go away, but he looked and sounded so vulnerable.
He raked both hands through his hair in frustration. "I'm so inadequate at this. I say and do all the wrong things, Libby, and I can see it upsets you." He picked up a thin blanket that was lying over the back of a chair and tucked it around her.
The action was so unexpected and his hands so gentle, that for a moment she couldn't speak. She stared up at him, shaking her head while she tried to hold on to her annoyance. "Why are you so angry at my family?"
There was a small silence. Tyson dropped into a chair opposite her. "The modern term family comes from the Latin word famulus, which means servant. In Arabia at the time of Mohammad, the word for marriage was nikah, which literally meant sexual intercourse. In the Koran, it was also used to mean contract. Marriage was conceived of as a contract for sexual intercourse."
Libby's eyebrow shot up. "I'm not touching that one, Ty. I don't even want to know what you meant by that."
He shrugged. "I didn't mean anything in particular, I just thought you might find it interesting."
Libby let her breath out in a slow rush of air. Tyson used facts as a defense mechanism. The moment he was uncomfortable with anything, he threw out random facts, distracting himself and anyone around him. He'd probably been doing it since childhood when his parents weren't really interested in the things he wanted to talk to them about, so he'd developed a way to shift his brain from emotional to intellectual instantly to protect himself.