Forbidden Lovers. Kimberley Troutte

“Bring the Batmobile, Alfred.”

      There was no doubt that his father owned some uber-expensive sports car he could borrow because speed was the one thing Matt and RW agreed on.

      Five minutes later he looked up when a silver Lamborghini Veneno pulled into the parking lot.

      “Holy hell.”

      Veneno was an Italian word that translated to “poison.” Lamborghini had sold only three of these bad boys for roughly 4.5 million smacks each. Barely able to believe his eyes, Matt hightailed it to the driver’s side.

      The window went down and a droll voice from inside said, “You rang?”

      Matt leaned his head in the window. “Hey, Alfred. Good to see you.”

      His father’s driver, whose real name was Robert, was bald now and more wrinkled than Matt remembered. “You’re still calling me that? I thought you would’ve outgrown your Batman obsession by now.” The twinkle in his eye was a dead giveaway that he was pleased Matt had used the nickname.

      “Bite your tongue. No one outgrows the Dark Knight.”

      Matt and his little brother, Jeff, had pretended to be Batman and Robin for years. They’d christened the family driver “Alfred.” Robert had acted huffy at first but quickly warmed up to the game.

      Alfred got out and took Matt’s pack and duffel. When the trunk opened, the new-car smell was close to orgasmic.

      “Let me drive,” Matt said.

      “Your father nearly killed me the last time I let you drive the Bugatti.”

      Matt grinned. “Nearly killed me, too, but it was worth it.” Especially the joyride he’d taken with Julia. He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Keys.”

      “Fine. But if you dent this one, I quit.” He placed the key fob in Matt’s hand and climbed into the passenger’s side.

      “Surprised you haven’t quit already.” Matt started the car and the engine roared to life.

      “Eh, what would you Harpers do without your fantastic driver?”

      Matt looked down at the odometer. “Seven miles? I wouldn’t call that driving. Is the old man just petting this car?” Matt saw the flinch before Alfred righted his face to neutral. Something was on the man’s mind. “What’s up? Has my father really become a hermit?”

      The man just sighed. “He’s had a hard time, Matthew. I’m glad you kids have come home.”

      “Jeff and Chloe are here, too? How the hell did he get them to come back?”

      “It’s not for me to tell. Suffice it to say you and your siblings will hear about it tonight.”

      “At the party.”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s not good enough. Spill. What’s he up to? Does it have anything to do with Julia?”

      “I can’t say.”

      Matt narrowed his eyes. “Can’t or won’t? This is me, Alfred. I won’t tell my father a word you say, I promise.”

      Alfred’s gaze focused out the windshield. His arms crossed. The man’s lips were sealed, apparently.

      “I have to wait to hear the big news with the whole town?” Matt grumbled.

      “Yes.”

      Forget that, he’d question one of the staff.

      “Before you try to sweet-talk the ladies in the kitchen, no one else knows what your father is planning. He is indisposed for the rest of the day. You’ll simply have to wait a few hours like the rest of us.”

      Huh. Matt’s curiosity was growing and so was his sense of danger.

      Alfred pulled his safety belt tight. “Try not to run us off the road in the meantime.”

      “A little faith, my man. I fly jets now. I think I can handle a little car.” He pressed his foot down and gravel sprayed the empty lot.

      “Holy mother.” Alfred crossed himself.

      Matt laughed. He cut his eyes toward his passenger. “Relax. Wow, was I that bad as a teenager?”

      “Terrifying.” But he said it with a smile. “Always in a hurry to fly out of here.”

      “Yeah. I was.”

      “I understood you, Matthew. I was a teenager once back in the Dark Ages.” He chuckled. Weird, Matt had never heard him laugh before. It must have sucked to be a driver for the Harpers all of those years. “And it seems you got exactly what you wanted, Captain Harper. You flew away.”

      Exactly what he wanted? Not by a long shot. “Sorry I made things tough on you.”

      What was his father’s evil plan? Matt would find out tonight with Julia by his side. He’d shield her from any fallout and stop his old man before he could hurt anyone else.

      Just like old times.

      The Dark Knight drove the Italian poison straight into the villain’s lair.

      * * *

      Julia paced her tiny bedroom. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this. Why did I agree to do this?”

      “Because that pilot was smoking hot!” Linda fanned herself.

      Yes, yes, he was. But she still wasn’t sure why he wanted to take her on a date. She was so far out of the dating scene that a guy would need binoculars to find her in the single-girl weeds.

      “What am I going to wear to this thing?”

      “Not your red dress. I already called dibs on that baby,” Linda said. Both she and Maria were sitting on the edge of Julia’s bed, painting their nails.

      Julia opened the window to let the polish fumes out. “I can’t believe I am doing this.”

      “You said that already, mujer. Hurry up, you don’t have that much time to get ready.” Maria waved her hand to dry her nails.

      “What am I going to wear? Harper cannot recognize me or he’ll throw me out.”

      “That ought to make a great impression on the pilot,” Maria said.

      “Ask Tía Nona. She’s got all sorts of pirate costumes,” Linda said.

      “Because?”

      Linda shrugged. “She’s got a thing for pirates?”

      Julia snorted. “Not hardly. She always harped on me to ‘beware the pirates—especially that Matt Harper.’ Super annoying. He was nothing like his pirate ancestors.”

      “You mean the Harpers who sailed pirate ships or the ones who bought our ancestors to work for them?” Maria asked.

      “More like traded our ancestors for cattle. Cows were worth more than our people. Harpers are thieves.” Linda blew on her nails.

      Maria shook her head. “No, they are pirates.”

      Julia didn’t need the history lesson. “Matt wasn’t like any of them. He was...sweet.”

      Linda shook her head. “Nothing sweet about that boy. He used to wear black T-shirts, holey jeans and drive that motorcycle like it was on fire.”

      She smiled. Man, was he ever sexy on that bike. “He never crashed, not even once. And he drove carefully when I was on the back.”

      “He skipped classes,” Maria added. “Brought you home late.”

      “Only a couple of times.”

      “Stole candy from Juanita,” Linda said.

      “He was eight! And he paid her for it. Geesh, I had no idea you guys hated him