Deep Dark (The DeLuca Family Book 3)

by Amy Reece

  “So, I’m curious about the names. It sounds like an interesting international mix.”

  Izzy laughed, a tinkling, musical sound that caused a physical pang of yearning in his gut. “My mom is Irish and my dad’s Italian. They took turns naming us and my mom went first, with Hugh. I’m Isabelle Marie, about as Italian as you can get.”

  “How many of them are married?” He thought she’d told him before, but he couldn’t remember.

  “Finn and Hugh. Seamus has a steady girlfriend, but if he marries her we’re going to disown him. Cara was married, but it didn’t work out. Tony’s only twenty-three, so I hope he waits a while.”

  “And how old are you, Izzy? Or is it rude to ask?”

  She smiled, crookedly this time. “Maybe, but it’s okay. I don’t mind telling you I’m thirty-two. What about you?”

  “Thirty-five last month. So, do any of them have kids yet? Your parents must be eager for grandkids, huh?”

  She choked on her beer and began coughing.

  “Are you okay? God, Izzy. Here.” He stood and came around the booth to pat her on the back.

  “I’m fine.” She held up her hand. “It’s good, thanks. Um, no. Neither Hugh nor Finn has kids yet. Hugh just got married a few weeks ago and Finn has only been married for a few months. I think my parents are willing to wait for them to have kids.”

  “Well, that’s good. My dad never loses an opportunity to ask when I’m going to settle down and provide him with grandkids.”

  Their waiter approached and he watched Izzy carefully while she ordered a sushi combo; she had freaked out a bit when he asked about the grandkids and he wondered if it was a sensitive subject for some reason. He ordered a fried rice dish and another round of Kirin.

  “Can I ask what happened to your mother? You’ve only mentioned your father.” Her soft expression told him she would understand if he chose not to answer her question.

  “She died when I was fifteen. Cancer.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mac.” She reached for his hand.

  He squeezed her hand, loving how sincere she sounded. “Thanks. It totally sucked, but my dad is awesome and made sure it didn’t wreck our lives.”

  “You said you’d like to talk him into moving closer?”

  He’d been determined to get her talking about herself, but she’d turned the conversation to him again. “Yeah. I think I love the Southwest, and plan to see if I can stay around here long term. It’d be great to have my dad close. I’m going to get him to visit soon. Maybe he’ll fall in love with it too.”

  “That would be nice for you. I hope it works out.”

  “Listen, Izzy. I have a dinner thing this Friday night. I’m one of the speakers—”

  “Really? Wow.”

  He chuckled. “It’s no big deal, believe me. But I said I’d do it, and I’d love it if you’d go with me. Will you?”

  “Oh. Um, sure, I guess.”

  “Great.” He refused to take her anemic agreement personally. “It’s a black tie sort of thing. I hope that’s okay.”

  She laughed lightly. “Now you tell me. I think I can pull together something appropriate. What time?”

  “It starts at six.” He reached for her hand. “Is there any way I could talk you into allowing me to pick you up? I promise I’m trustworthy. I have a security clearance from the U.S. government that says so.” He winked, trying to make a joke out of it.

  “Oh. That’s not—I mean—” She fumbled with her napkin, then sighed and finally looked straight at him. “That’s not it. Yes, you can pick me up. I’ll text you my address.”

  “Great. It’s a date.”

  Chapter Three

  Izzy

  The giant stack of boxes had been moved to a corner of her office. Hugh had helpfully offered to do the grunt work after he initially expressed the same dismay she had, only with more profanity. A quick call to Lyon Millwork had revealed they had a temp working in the accounting department who’d had no idea what to send, and thus sent it all.

  “I was expecting a few spreadsheets via email, you know.” Izzy stood, hands on her hips, glaring at the boxes.

  “I know. Sorry about this. You certainly don’t have to look through it all, but I’m willing to bet you’ll find out more from this mess than from whatever carefully chosen reports I was expecting them to send. This could actually turn out to be a good thing,” Hugh said.

  “Says the man who doesn’t have to sift through it all. Yeah, fine. I’ll take a look. I’ll bet Mr. Lyon would have a fit if he knew his temp had sent so much of his company’s financial history out of the office. Remind me never to use that temp agency.”

  Hugh chuckled and left her to it.

  She opened the closest box and pulled out a stack of file folders. She set them on her desk and poured another cup of coffee to fortify herself for the job ahead. The files contained receipts and copies of contracts dating back well over two decades, plus expense and payroll sheets. Judging by the vastly different styles of accounting in the records, Izzy guessed Lyon Millwork had a hard time keeping a steady bookkeeper. When she saw the payroll records, she knew why. They seriously underpaid their employees, a classic sign of a company that had their priorities misaligned. It was definitely a red flag, at least in her book. Their gross receipts looked okay and the volume of work they produced matched what she and Hugh had heard about the company. Their expenditures seemed a bit haphazard, however, with various expenses she questioned, especially as to how they were legitimate to a millwork/finish carpentry business. The business seemed to make an inordinate number of charitable donations, particularly given their moderate size and volume of business. One that showed up repeatedly over the past ten years was to something called The Southwest Anti-Poverty League. She’d never heard of it and was surprised at the amount of money Lyon Millwork donated. It sounded great, but she wondered why it was singled out to receive such large sums. DeLuca Construction made a fair amount of charitable donations, of course, as did any company needing tax breaks, but they didn’t begin to approach what Lyon Millwork apparently donated, especially to that particular organization.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Chris’s face appeared around her door. “You look completely engrossed in those dusty papers. Do you have a minute?”

  Crap. I was really hoping to avoid her today. “Sure. Of course. Come on in.” Izzy stood and stretched. “I’ve been hunched over these files long enough. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, Finn and I were in the neighborhood and decided to stop by and see if we could tempt you and Hugh out for a quick lunch.”

  “I don’t know about Hugh, but I’m available.”

  “Finn’s in his office right now, talking him into it.” Chris walked into the room and closed the door. “So, did you talk to Mac again?”

  Izzy sighed and wished she could bring herself to lie. “Yes, but I still haven’t told him. I met him for dinner last night, but it just didn’t seem right.”

  “Have you slept with him?”

  “No, of course not! God, Chris! What kind of person do you think I am?” She realized the irony of her objection, of course. This whole situation, after all, was due to a one-night stand with Mac.

  “But you have kissed him?”

  “He kissed me!” Izzy narrowed her eyes at the other woman, recognizing too late the trap she’d fallen into. “You’re using your cop questioning skills on me. That’s not very nice.”

  Chris smirked. “Whatever it takes, sis. You need to tell the man he has a kid. It’s not fair to get wrapped up in a romantic relationship before he knows, Izzy. It’s manipulative.”

  “Please stop talking.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, attempting to massage away the headache she felt building. “I know all this, Chris, really I do. I will tell him. It’s just really hard and it’s going to change everything,” she finished on a whisper.

  “Hey.” Chris came around the desk and put her arm around her sister-in-law. “Yes, it will change ever
ything. But change isn’t always bad. You’ve done this all by yourself for five years. Now you have a chance to share the burden—and the joy. If he’s a decent guy, he’ll step up and help out, at least with child support, and maybe more. Tell him.”

  Izzy nodded. “I know. I will. He’s taking me to some sort of dinner event this Friday. He’s making some sort of speech, but I’ll tell him afterward.”

  “Good. Stop putting it off. Sorry to be such a bitch about it, but I don’t like keeping secrets from Hugh. Now,” she said with a quick hug, “let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

  ***

  She spent more time scouring her living room for any sign that a child lived there than on getting ready for the dinner. Her mother had greeted her request to watch Janey overnight—she had been asking quite often lately—with raised eyebrows, but quickly acquiesced when Izzy admitted she had a date. Then she had to endure the parental inquisition. She shuddered to think what her mother would have to say if she knew the date was with Janey’s father. She had every intention of telling him tonight, but it could wait until after his speech. It would be cruel to tell him something so earth shattering right before he was supposed to stand in front a crowd and speak. She would do it after the dinner, on the way home at the very latest. She glanced at the clock and cursed softly. With her hands full of the last of the toys, she raced to her bedroom for a quick shower. She blow-dried her hair, grateful it behaved itself, curling under in that one spot in the back that tended to flip outward, and applied her makeup, daring to go for a slightly more dramatic look for the evening. She spritzed on her favorite perfume and slipped the royal blue velvet evening gown over her head. She’d bought it last year for a fundraiser she attended with Hugh and had received quite a few compliments. It had spaghetti straps and a low V-neck in front with the straps crisscrossing in the back. The skirt was long and slim, with a slit that opened to her mid-thigh. It was gorgeous and made her feel sexy and confident. She figured she would need all the confidence she could muster for the evening. She was sliding her feet into strappy heels when the doorbell rang. She grabbed her wrap and hurried to answer the door.

  He stared at her, eyes wide for several moments before she reached out to pull him inside. “Sorry. You look beyond beautiful, Izzy. Wow.”

  “Thank you. You look pretty great yourself.” Did he ever. His black tux hugged his broad shoulders and narrowed to his trim waist. He wasn’t as tall as any of her brothers, but he still towered over her five feet three inches, even in her heels. She estimated he was around five foot ten or eleven, all of it hard-packed muscle. She sternly told herself to stop thinking about his body and closed the door.

  “So…this is a really nice house.” He stood in the middle of her living room, turning slowly. “The construction business must be better than I thought.”

  “We do all right.” She certainly didn’t want to take him on a tour; the rest of the house made it painfully obvious a child was in residence. “I’m ready if you are.”

  “Sure.” He stepped over to help her with her coat. “I really appreciate you going with me tonight, Izzy.”

  She shivered as his calloused fingers brushed her bare shoulders. “Of course, Mac.” She turned in his arms. “I’m happy to. I can hardly wait to hear your speech.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh, God. I’m still trying to figure out how I got roped into this. They must have been desperate.” He leaned down and kissed her quickly. “Sorry, but I absolutely could not resist.”

  She smiled and gestured for him to precede her out the door as she set the alarm and locked up.

  “So, you live here all alone? No roommates or anything? It’s kind of a big house for a single woman.”

  She refused to look at him. “No roommates. It’s an investment. Houses appreciate in value.”

  “Ah, that’s the bookkeeper in you talking. I just bought a townhouse. How do they do on the re-sale market?” He opened the passenger door of his SUV and helped her in.

  “No idea. So, where is this dinner?”

  “It’s at the Hotel Albuquerque in Old Town. You ever been there?”

  “Yes. It’s very nice.” They chatted amiably for the rest of the short drive. He pulled into the valet parking lane in front of the hotel and jogged around to help her out, glaring at the valet when he put his hand out to assist her from the vehicle. He held her hand as they walked through the lobby to the ballroom. She had been expecting the event to have something to do with his job in Homeland Security and was surprised to see the signs announcing a fundraiser for the Wounded Warriors. She immediately felt better about the event and wondered if there would be an opportunity for her to make a donation sometime during the night. She hadn’t known he was connected to the program, but it made sense, given his military background. It was just another thing that made him incredibly attractive to her.

  The room was fairly full when they entered, with small groups of well-dressed people standing and chatting, while wait staff circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of wine. She accepted a glass of chardonnay and was selecting a shrimp kebab when Mac leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  “I’m going to see if I can get a beer at the bar. I’ll be right back.”

  She smiled and nodded as she began to nibble. She had skipped lunch in favor of a mani/pedi and was starving. While he was gone, she spied several people she knew and crossed the room to talk to them. Mac eventually found her, a bottle of Dos Equis in hand, and she introduced him to the small group. He proved to be adept at small talk and they pleasantly passed the time until the meal. When the crowd began to move toward the tables at the far end of the room, she followed him to a reserved table in front of the stage. The food was decent, for hotel fare, and Izzy enjoyed the conversation with the people near them, including Mac’s friend Darius and his girlfriend, Kendra. The program started as the waiters began distributing the dessert, a slice of rich cheesecake drizzled with caramel and sprinkled with sea salt.

  Mac scooted his chair out and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “That’s my cue. Snag me a piece of cheesecake if you can.”

  Izzy slid her own piece over to his place and turned toward the stage. The man who was speaking was in full military dress and was telling about the Wounded Warriors program. He then stepped back and someone else began to introduce the guest speaker.

  “William MacNeil served in the U.S. Army Special Forces for over a decade…”

  Izzy snapped to attention. Special Forces? Oh, my God! I had no idea! She searched her memory, but could only remember him saying he was in the army.

  “He served two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. He was in the middle of his fourth tour when a sniper’s bullet ended his military career. Captain MacNeil was awarded the Purple Heart and the Silver Star and continues to serve his country today with his service in the Department of Homeland Security. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Captain William MacNeil.”

  Thunderous applause erupted and Izzy found herself joining in mechanically. A sniper’s bullet ended his military career. The words rang in her head and she missed the first part of Mac’s speech. He was wounded after he left me, seriously wounded. He’s a Wounded Warrior. That’s why he was asked to speak tonight. She forced herself to push the thoughts into the back of her mind so she could listen to his speech. She wanted to be able to talk about it with him later, so she needed to pay attention.

  He spoke well, with a self-deprecating style tempered by humor, which won over the crowd completely. She felt the pride bubbling up and at the same time was horrified by what he must have gone through in the wake of his injury. He glossed over his own experience, mentioning only a spinal injury and months of rehab, before highlighting other Wounded Warriors with missing limbs and severe head injuries. He finished with a call to action for everyone to donate generously to the program.

  “And please don’t forget to bid on a bunch of silent auction items. Thank you all!” He waved as he left the stage, and Izzy
noticed, for the first time, a slight stiffness in his gait. He was stopped numerous times on the way back to their table, but finally arrived, slipping into his seat and reaching for his water goblet. “Ahh, you’re the best, Izzy. Thanks.” He stabbed his fork into the cheesecake.

  “You did great, Mac. I had no idea you were a Green Beret.”

  He shrugged and forked another huge bite into his mouth. “It’s not a big deal.”

  It was definitely a big deal. “And I didn’t know you were injured.” She placed her hand over his. “I’m so sorry.” Suddenly, all the emotions of the past few days burst to the surface and she was unable to stop the tears from springing into her eyes and sliding down her cheeks.

  “Izzy, hey.” He reached toward her.

  She ducked her head and stood. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” She turned and made her way out of the ballroom as quickly as possible. She dashed into a nearby bathroom and shut herself in a stall, able to give her raging emotions free reign. It took a good ten minutes, but she finally pulled herself together, wiped her eyes and nose, then made her way to the elegant vanity mirror. She dug into her evening bag, glad she had tucked a few makeup essentials inside before leaving. She was able to repair most of the damage and ducked out of the bathroom, intent on returning to her date.

  “Are you okay?” Mac leaned against the wall just outside the bathroom. He held out his hand and pulled her to stand in front of him. “What’s going on? I thought you said my speech was good.” He smiled crookedly, letting her know he was kidding.

  She looked into his handsome face and melted. She stepped closer and put her arms around his neck. “It was really good. I started thinking about you getting shot and I guess I lost it.”