“Hell no.” Horrified at the thought, Lance echoed Todd’s response. “I do not have the patience for bureaucratic bullshit.”
“I hear you.” Harvey adjusted the brim of his hat and left.
Lance closed the door and returned to Sharp’s office.
“I’m starving.” He rubbed his empty stomach. They’d missed lunch.
“Pizza?” Morgan’s voice lifted in hope. “We can take it home and eat an early dinner with the kids.”
“Sounds good.” Lance had a few missed meals and bedtimes to make up for. He wanted to spend the rest of the day binge-watching cartoons and cuddling with the girls.
“Do you want to come home to eat with us?” she asked Sharp.
“No, but thanks. I promised Olivia I’d drive her down to Albany to pick up her car.”
“You seem happy about that.” Morgan’s smile widened.
Sharp actually blushed. “Yeah. Well, she’s all right.”
Lance thought about teasing him, then reconsidered. Sharp deserved some happiness. His boss had not had a special woman in his life for a very long time, and Olivia seemed perfect for him. Sharp left Morgan and Lance to lock up the office. They were leaving through the front door when Lance’s phone rang. “It’s my mom.”
He answered the call. “Hey, Mom. Morgan and I were going to stop and see you on our way home.”
“Now, that’s silly,” his mom said. “After all you’ve been through, you should both go home and get some rest. I am fine.”
“I haven’t seen you in a week.” As busy as he’d been, Lance missed her.
“You’ve called me every day,” his mom pointed out. “Go home to your family. Spend time with Morgan and the girls. Do something fun. That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lance ended the call and relayed the conversation to Morgan. “Sometimes I forget that under her mental illness is a smart, tough woman. She’s a survivor. I need to remember that.”
Morgan took his hand. “Well, it seems she will be more than happy to remind you.”
Chapter Forty
“After we pick up my car, you have to follow me.”
“Why?” Sharp glanced at Olivia, who sat in the passenger seat of his Prius. She’d covered up the bruise on her cheek like a pro, but its presence still bothered him.
“I’m taking you to dinner.”
“Shouldn’t I be taking you to dinner?” he protested. “I got you into this mess. I almost got you killed.”
“Nothing was your fault,” she shot back. “I’m a big girl. I walked into the situation knowing the score.”
“Neither one of us really knew the score.” He exited the interstate and made his way to the parking lot where her Prius still sat. The night before, they’d spent hours being questioned at the local police station. Neither one of them had been in any shape to drive. A cop had taken them home.
“Thanks for setting up the meeting for Joe and Tina.” Sharp was headed there later that evening. He didn’t trust Joe one bit, and he would not let Morgan and Lance meet him without backup.
“You’re welcome,” Olivia said. “I hope it brings Tina some closure.”
“I suppose I owe you another favor.”
Her smile was just a little wicked. “I’ll add it to the list.”
He dropped her at her car, then followed the white Prius.
She drove through the streets as if she were used to them. Ten minutes later, she drove into a neighborhood of tiny, nearly identical one-story houses. She parked in front of a white house with red shutters. Olivia opened her car door and stepped out of the vehicle.
Sharp met her on the sidewalk.
“This is my parents’ house.”
“Oh.” Surprised, Sharp brushed a hand through his hair. He hadn’t met a woman’s parents in . . . more years than he wanted to count.
“There is no way I can drive to Albany a second time without stopping to see my parents,” she said. “On the bright side, you will love my parents, and there will be food.”
“But your mother won’t be prepared for dinner guests.”
“I have two brothers and a sister. When I was growing up, friends ate at my house all the time. My mother’s cooking is legendary. Even though my parents moved into this senior community a few years ago, my mother has never adjusted to cooking for two. She is always prepared for dinner guests. There will be enough food for at least ten people. Do you have family?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I was an only child, and my parents have been gone for more than ten years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, but it’s been a long time.” He followed her up a cracked concrete walkway to cracked concrete steps.
She opened the door and walked inside without knocking, calling, “Mami! Papi!”
“Olivia!” Her mother was short and trim, with a head of curls dyed dark brown. She greeted her daughter with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Releasing her, Mrs. Cruz eyed Sharp. “And who is this?”
“Lincoln Sharp.” Olivia hesitated. “An associate.”
Her mother raised a drawn-on eyebrow at associate.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cruz.” Sharp offered his hand.
Mrs. Cruz used it to pull him closer and kiss his cheek. Afterward, she didn’t let go but tugged him down a short hallway. “Come in. Come in. You’re in luck. I’ve been cooking all day.”
Olivia leaned over Sharp’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “She cooks all day every day.”
The kitchen was small but modern. Black granite counters topped white cabinets. Baking pans sat steaming on the stovetop.
An older man drank beer from a tall glass at the head of a table set for two. He stood when they entered the room. He was lean and dark, with gray hair shorn close to his head. Olivia introduced them. “Papi, this is Lincoln Sharp.”
Mrs. Cruz released Sharp, allowing him to shake hands. Then she steered him to a chair. “Sit.”
Mr. Cruz lifted his bottle. “Beer?”
“No, thank you,” Sharp said.
Olivia set two extra places and brought Sharp a glass of water.
“You’re so thin.” Mrs. Cruz heaped food on his plate: black beans and rice, some sort of shredded meat, and a couple of fried items. “Ham croquetas, and the empanadas are filled with chicken.”
“I thought you were a vegetarian?” Sharp whispered to Olivia.
“I love seafood, so I’m more of a pescatarian. But at Mami’s house, I eat what I’m told.” Olivia flashed him a wry grin. “I have interviewed drug dealers, gang leaders, and convicted murderers, but I am not brave enough to refuse my mother’s cooking.”
“What brings you home?” Mr. Cruz asked his daughter.
“We’re here to do an interview.” Olivia passed a platter of shredded beef and onions. “Lincoln is an investigator.”
Mr. Cruz nodded.
They ate, and Mrs. Cruz caught Olivia up on the activities of what seemed to be dozens of nieces, nephews, and cousins. Sharp worked hard not to overstuff himself, which wasn’t easy with Mrs. Cruz continually refilling his plate. He had no idea what he ate, but it was all good.
“Coffee?” Mrs. Cruz asked.
“No, thank you,” Sharp said. “I don’t drink coffee, and I’m stuffed.”
“You haven’t had dessert,” Mrs. Cruz said as if that were a crime.
“I couldn’t possibly eat any more. Thank you for dinner.” Sharp shook Mr. Cruz’s hand and accepted a kiss on the cheek from Mrs. Cruz. He followed Olivia down the hall toward the front door.
“Wait!” Mrs. Cruz’s call was not a request but a demand that brought Sharp and Olivia both to a halt.
Her mother hurried into the hallway with a white bakery box. “I made pastelitos yesterday. You will take some with you.”
“Gracias, Mami.” Olivia took the box.
The sun slanted over the tightly packed houses as they walked to the cars parked at the curb.
“What’s in the box?
” Sharp tapped the lid.
“Pastelitos de guayaba.” The way the Spanish rolled off Olivia’s tongue was hot. “Pastries filled with cream cheese and guava.”
“Well, that sounds low in calories.”
“Are you watching your weight?” Olivia took her sunglasses from her purse and set them on her face. “You need to lighten up and enjoy yourself a little, Lincoln, and you could use a couple of pounds. Life is short.”
Sharp had been recently reminded that life could be cut even shorter at any time. “I haven’t eaten that much meat in ten years.”
Olivia raised her sunglasses and eyed him. “Your color looks better.” She held the box in front of his face and waved it tauntingly. The pastries smelled amazing. “If you come to my house for brunch tomorrow, I’ll share these with you.”
“All right.” He rubbed his gut, which ironically did seem happy with the high-fat, carnivorous meal.
“And I’ll know you survived the meeting with Joe.” Her words were light, but she didn’t smile. “Be careful tonight.”
“I will.” He watched her fish for her keys—not a hair out of place, her petite frame fitted out with fashionable clothes. His gaze dropped to her feet. She was wearing a pair of those dainty, pointy-heeled, completely impractical sandals she loved. Her fingernails and toenails were painted fiery orange. Did her nail polish match her purse?
Yes. Yes, it did.
But underneath all that fancy window dressing, she was tough. She’d had his back when he’d needed it. Not only hadn’t she run from the fight, she’d fought dirty and owned it. On top of that, she was smart. She had class and integrity. She took zero shit from anyone.
He was going to have to face facts. He liked her—even if she was a reporter.
And he was totally fine with that.
Chapter Forty-One
The bell on the glass door of the diner jingled. Lance spotted Joe Martin and two goons entering the lobby. Under his breath, Lance spoke to Morgan, who sat next to him. “There he is.”
Joe walked with a cane, his posture stooped. Despite the limp and physical frailty, the two men who flanked him gave him complete deference.
Sharp and Tina sat at a table in the back. Sharp and Tina had both selected seats that put their backs toward the rear wall of the restaurant. As backup, Morgan and Lance had taken a table across the aisle. Morgan swirled the straw in her chocolate milkshake. Lance picked at a plate of fries on the table between them.
Sharp set down his water glass and stood. He covered his mouth and coughed. “I’ll tell him to lose the muscle.”
A few patrons sat at the counter, but at ten o’clock at night, most of the tables were empty. Sharp crossed the room and planted himself in front of Joe, blocking his path. Joe frowned. He glanced over at the table where Tina sat. He didn’t hesitate but waved his men toward the door.
Sharp led Joe to the table and pointed to the chair opposite Tina. Joe sank into it.
Lance kept his eyes on his fries, but his ears were wide open.
“Tina.” Joe’s voice held no trace of warmth.
“Joe.” Tina’s answer was glacial. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.”
“All right,” Joe agreed.
“Aaron killed my husband.”
“Yes,” Joe said. “He did that without my knowledge or consent.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? I assumed you wanted me dead.” Tina’s voice held no trace of fear. Lance risked a quick glance at her face. She wore her emotionless mask. His gaze shifted to Joe. He wore the same impassive expression.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Unlike Aaron, I don’t fuck around.” Joe sounded like he meant it.
“Don’t come anywhere near me or my son.” Tina lowered her voice to a near whisper. “I have an excellent memory. I’ve made notes. Names, dates, places . . . crimes.” She paused. “My notes are in a safe place, but if anything happens to me, they will automatically be forwarded to the district attorney. You would go back to prison.” She rested her joined hands on the table. “I don’t fuck around either.”
Joe shifted back. “You are much smarter than Aaron.”
There was no sign of grief on his face. His son had meant nothing to him. Aaron had been a pawn to be used.
“I’m waiting,” Tina said.
Lance knew she was terrified. She’d been shaking during the entire drive to the diner. But as soon as they’d gotten out of the car, she’d wiped all traces of fear from her face.
Joe reached for his cane. “As I said before, I have no desire to kill you.”
Tina’s gaze didn’t waver. She didn’t believe him for a second. “I mean it. You stay far away from me and Evan or you’ll be back in jail before you can blink.”
“All right.” Joe used his cane to struggle to his feet.
Lance didn’t trust him. This felt too easy. Did Joe know Tina had the money? Lance couldn’t tell. Tina could give up nursing and play professional poker, but Lance suspected Joe’s lack of emotion wasn’t an act. Father and daughter were not the same. Tina had learned to conceal her emotions as a coping mechanism. Joe didn’t have any.
Joe limped out of the diner. The bell on the glass door jingled as it swung back into place. Through the plate-glass windows, Lance watched the goons escort Joe to a town car. The car drove away.
“Do you think Joe knows you have the money?” Sharp asked Tina.
“Probably,” Tina said. “But he’s hard to read.”
No shit.
Lance rose to his feet and turned to Tina. “He won’t come looking for it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He knows I have the upper hand. He looks pretty sick. I assume he doesn’t want to spend his remaining years in a cell.”
Morgan pushed her empty milkshake glass aside and collected her bag from the floor. “Do you really have dirt on Joe?”
Tina’s mask faded, and fire filled her eyes. “You do not bluff with men like Joe. They can smell it. They must know you will follow through with every threat.”
Sharp pushed his chair under the table. “In short, you don’t fuck around.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Three days later
In the backyard, Morgan leaned on the fence and watched Ava and Mia blow bubbles. Sophie and the dogs raced in circles, trying to catch the bubbles before they drifted over the fence. The sun shone on the river, and the yard had finally dried out.
The gate squeaked as Lance came into the yard. Morgan greeted him with a kiss, happy to note that his bruises were fading. He wrapped his arms around her, clasping his hands at her lower back.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Very well.” He smiled down at her. “Evan was awake and joking with the team for a solid thirty minutes. He’s beginning to grieve Paul’s death, and he has some tough times ahead, but I think he’s going to make it. Tina talked about selling the house and moving. Evan convinced her to stay here. He wants to move back to their apartment in Scarlet Falls.”
“Do you think she’ll stay, long term?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I don’t think she’s ready to make any long-term plans.”
Morgan turned to check on the girls. “If she does need to leave town, she has the means.”
“Not that she will admit it to us.”
“No.” Morgan tried to understand. Tina’s distrust ran back to her birth.
Lance tightened his grip around her waist, pulling their hips closer together. He was definitely fully recovered. “Now, tell me why the thought of planning our wedding always makes you sad.”
“Grandpa helped me work it out.” Morgan took a deep breath and began. “John and I had a formal church wedding. It doesn’t feel right for us to have the same.”
“Then we won’t.”
“You don’t mind doing something small and less traditional, maybe even fun? This is your first and hopefully only wedding.”
“I want to marry you. I
’m not particular about how it happens, and I’m all for fun.” He kissed her again. “I have two people to invite, and there’s a very good chance one of them will attend via Skype.”
“We still need a location. With the house under construction, we can’t have it here.” Morgan’s mind whirled with possibilities.
“Is anything else bothering you?” He leaned back and studied her face.
“No.” Her mood felt lighter at the thought of planning a fun event.
“Promise that you’ll talk to me immediately if you’re sad again? Your grandfather is an awesome source of advice, but I want you to feel like you can tell me anything.”
“I will.” She nodded. But now she was looking forward to the planning. “What do you think about September?”
“I love September.” He kissed her again.
A squeal caught their attention. Sophie was racing across the grass to Lance.
Lance released Morgan and caught the leaping child in his arms.
“You’re always kissing Mommy,” Sophie said with just a hint of disgust.
“Yes, I am.” Lance leaned sideways and kissed Morgan again. Ava and Mia ran toward them. Panting and breathless, they hugged Lance around the legs.
Morgan smiled wide. “We should get married at Scarlet Lake. We could have a picnic on the beach.”
“That sounds perfect,” Lance said.
Excitement bubbled up in Morgan’s chest. “I’ll have to check with the parks department to see if we need a permit, but I doubt it will be a problem. I know other people have held private events at the lake.”
“My friend Emily had her birthday at the lake. She had a bouncy castle,” said Ava. “Can we get a bouncy castle?”
Mia clapped her hands. “Bouncy castle!”
“I wike ponies.” Sophie took Lance’s face in both hands and turned him to face her. “But no clowns. I don’t wike clowns.”
And Sophie’s lisp was back. She’d outgrow it eventually. But for now, Morgan was going to enjoy it.
Secrets Never Die Page 29
