Taken by Storm (Give & Take) - By Kelli Maine Page 0,70

dry clothes to change into. His sister plopped down on one of the sofas like she owned the place.

MJ approached her like he would a rabid dog. “What’s your name?”

“Nadia. I’m named after our great-grandmother, Nadia Montgomery.” She patted the cushion beside her. “Sit.”

He almost expected her to tell him she wouldn’t bite, not that he’d believe her.

MJ eased down beside her, and Merrick, still standing behind the sofa Heidi had vacated, stared at them like this was all a dream, and not necessarily a good one. The warmth MJ had felt from his father was gone and replaced by skepticism toward this woman beside him.

That made two of them. They really were alike. MJ would laugh if he wasn’t so shell-shocked by everything that had happened. Next, the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Rachael came in carrying a tray of mugs. “Warm cider and rum. I think we could all use some.” She set the tray on the rustic, wooden coffee table and eyed Merrick, nodding to the couch for him to take a seat. He did. She sat beside him.

MJ knew the power Rachael had over his father. It was the same Maddie held over him. Or, it had been. Where the hell was she anyway? She better not still be outside or he really would strangle her for being stupid.

Merrick tapped his leg with his fingers, restless. “So, what? You’re twins?”

Rachael put her hand over his to still him. He thread their fingers together and held their joined hands to his chest.

“Don’t we look alike?” Nadia said, leaning in to MJ and smiling. She had a dimple, just one, but it was there in her left cheek. Did anyone in their family not have those freaking dimples?

“Yeah,” Merrick said. “So my father kept you two apart. You’ve been with your mother?” he asked.

“Yes. Enzo let me stay at the Rocha Estate once when I was little and my mom was out of town, but he wouldn’t let me leave the west wing of the house. He didn’t think that was a good idea,” she said. “He paid my mother to keep me away the rest of the time.”

Something clicked inside MJ’s brain. The west wing. Ghosts weren’t real. Not Ingrid and not Maddie’s ghost. Nadia had been both.

“I see,” Merrick said.

MJ leaned forward and picked up a mug of hot cider and rum. He downed it in a few gulps, scalding his throat.

“You can have mine, too,” Nadia said, watching him like he was her new favorite toy.

“Thanks.”

He picked up a second mug and downed it, hoping for enough rum to get even a little buzz.

“I’m sorry I got crazy when you left here to go to Sandy Springs,” Merrick said to Rachael. “When it comes to my father, I don’t want anyone I love near him.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “He takes everything that’s important to me. He can’t have you.” Merrick looked at MJ. “Or you.” His gaze fell to Nadia and held for a moment, but he didn’t repeat the sentiment.

Beck walked in, handed Merrick a bottle of double malt scotch and a couple of shot glasses over the back of the couch, patted him on the arm and walked back down the hall without a word.

Merrick smiled and poured himself a shot. “Remind me why I wasn’t friends with him sooner,” he said to Rachael.

“You don’t want me to remind you why,” she said, and kissed the tip of his nose. “I could use one of those too.”

Merrick downed his shot and handed one to Rachael. “Being your father,” he said to MJ and Nadia, “I should know this, but are you twenty-one yet?”

“We have two more months,” Nadia said, holding up two fingers.

“Close enough. You’re not driving anyway. Help yourself if you’d like.” Merrick set the bottle and the glasses on the table.

MJ didn’t need to be asked twice.

“Guess I should’ve asked that question before serving them rum,” Rachael said. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Merrick and MJ said in unison.

MJ wasn’t used to someone answering for him, telling him he was or wasn’t allowed to do things like drink. At school, he’d fought against authority with his fists, getting in fights and getting shown the door. Coach was as close to a father as he had next to Mr. Simcoe, but neither of them ever tried to tell him what he could or couldn’t do.

“Where do you and your mother live?” Merrick said, lifting his chin in Nadia’s