Robert convince his mother to leave Landon?
The last time, it’d gone...poorly.
He needed a better plan this time.
More than just hiding Cybil Wyatt, Robert needed to make sure Landon wouldn’t ever be in a position to track her down.
His heart beat at a highly irregular pace. Last time he’d merely tried to hide his mother, in his own home, no less. He hadn’t had a contingency plan in place and without that plan, the whole rescue had been doomed to fail.
This time would be different.
Wyatts didn’t fail. They succeeded.
He entered Trenton’s at five past eight. Thank God Jeannie was back tonight. She might not be able to offer assistance but she could at least tell him if New Zealand was a good idea or not. She might be the only person he knew who’d tell him the truth. Now all he had to do was find a way to ask.
A soft, feminine voice purred, “Good evening, Dr. Wyatt. What can I get you?”
His head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The bar at Trenton’s was dimly lit, so it took a few moments for Robert to identify the speaker.
The woman behind the bar was not Jeannie. This woman was shorter, with long light-colored hair piled on top of her head. Jeannie was almost tall enough that she could look Robert in the eye, with dark hair cropped close.
“Where’s Jeannie?” he growled.
It was Monday. She was supposed to be here.
The woman behind the bar batted her eyes. “I’m Miranda. Jeannie’s on vacation. I’m more than happy to take care of you while she’s gone...”
Robert glared at her. Dammit, Jeannie had said one week. She’d promised. And now he needed her and she wasn’t here.
The pressure in his head was almost blinding. If he didn’t see Jeannie tonight—right now—he might do something they’d all regret.
“Dr. Wyatt?”
The world began to lose color at the edges, a numb gray washing everything flat.
He needed to leave before he lost control.
But he couldn’t because his mother had called him and there had to be a way to save her and he needed to see Jeannie.
She was the only one who could bring color back to his world.
“She’s not on vacation. Tell me where she is.” He leaned forward, struggling to keep his voice level. “Or else.”
Miranda’s teasing pout fell away as she straightened and stepped back. “She’s not here,” she said, the purr gone from her voice.
He wasn’t going to lash out. A Wyatt never lost control.
So instead of giving in to the gray numbness and doing what Landon would do, Robert forced himself to adjust the cuffs on his bespoke suit, which gave him enough time to breathe and attempt to speak calmly.
He studied Miranda. She held his gaze, but he could see her pulse beating at her throat. She was probably telling the truth.
“I’d like to speak with the owner. Please.”
The buzzing in his head became two discordant sounds. He could hear Landon snarling, Wyatts don’t ask, at the same time as he heard Jeannie say, in that husky voice of hers, There, was that so hard?
When was the first time Jeannie had said that to him? He didn’t remember. All he remembered was that she was the first person who’d ever dared tease him.
When he was sure he had himself back under control, he looked up. Miranda the substitute bartender wasn’t moving.
“Now,” Robert snarled.
With a jolt, she turned and fled.
It felt wrong to sit in his seat if Jeannie wasn’t on the other side of the bar. Like this place wasn’t home anymore.
Which was ridiculous because this was a bar where he spent maybe half an hour every night. It wasn’t his sprawling Gold Coast townhouse with million-dollar views of Lake Michigan. It wasn’t even the monstrosity of a mansion where he’d been raised by a succession of nannies. This was not home. This was just where Jeannie had been when he’d walked into this restaurant two years and ten months ago and sat down at this bar because he’d felt...lost.
It had been thirty-four months since Jeannie had stood in front of him, listening while he struggled to get his thoughts in order because his mother had refused to stay with him and Landon had come for her. Everything in Robert’s carefully constructed world had gone gray, which had been good because then Robert didn’t have to feel anything. Anything but the overpowering need for the perfect drink.
Sometimes, when Robert allowed himself to look back at that moment, he wondered if maybe Jeannie had been waiting patiently for him.
Where the hell was she?
Then it hit him. She’d said she had a family thing. She wasn’t here now.
Something had gone wrong.
The realization gave him an odd feeling, one he did not like. He liked it even less when Miranda the substitute bartender returned with a man that looked vaguely familiar.
“Dr. Wyatt, it’s so good to see you, as always,” the man said, smiling in a way Robert didn’t trust. “I’m sorry there’s a problem. How can I correct things?”
Robert was running out of patience. “Who are you?”
“Julian Simmons.” He said it in a way that made it clear Robert was supposed to remember who he was. “I own Trenton’s. You’re one of our most valued customers, so if there’s a problem, I’m sure we can—”
Robert cut the man off. “Where’s Jeannie?”
Robert couldn’t tell in the dim light, but he thought Simmons might have gone a shade whiter. “Jeannie is taking some personal time.”
Only a fool would think personal time and vacation time were the same thing. Robert was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. “Is she all right?”
Simmons didn’t answer for another long beat.
Something had happened; Robert knew it. Helplessness collided with an ever-increasing anger. He was not going to stand by while another woman was hurt. Not when he had the power to stop it.
“Jeannie is fine,” Simmons finally said. “We’re hopeful that she will rejoin us in a few weeks. I know she’s your personal favorite, but Miranda is more than happy to serve you.”
Both Miranda the substitute bartender and Simmons the restaurant owner recoiled before Robert realized he was snarling at them. “Tell me where she is. Now.”
“Dr. Wyatt, I’m sorry but—”
Before he was aware of what he was doing, Robert had reached across the bar and took hold of Simmons’s tie.
Robert could hear Landon Wyatt shouting, No one says no to a Wyatt, in his mind.
Or maybe he hadn’t heard the words. Maybe he’d said them out loud because Miranda squeaked in alarm.
“You,” he said to the woman, “can go.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice.
“Dr. Wyatt,” Simmons said. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
Belatedly, he realized he was probably not making the best argument. Abruptly, he released Simmons’s tie. Robert realized he had overlooked the path of least resistance. Instead of allowing his temper to get the better of him, he should’ve started from a different negotiating position.