by Tami Lund
“Nonsense,” Grandma Bryant said, grasping Maecie’s outstretched arm and pulling her into a hug. “I don’t shake hands with family.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bryant.”
“I also don’t let family call me Mrs. anything. It’s Grandma Bryant.”
Maecie laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I like her,” Grandma Bryant declared, patting Philip’s shoulder. “You should let her keep you, make an honest man of you.”
Tommy snorted while Philip’s cheeks reddened. The sliding glass door in the dining room opened, and the two dogs rushed across the wooden floor, trying to get to the most recent attendees to this shindig. Maddy and Kyle followed. At least Camila’s sister no longer had red-rimmed eyes, although they both had pink cheeks, probably from the chilly wind blowing off the lake.
“Kyle, get over here and give your grandma a hug. And introduce me to your girlfriend. I can’t believe three of my four grandsons are finally settling down.”
Maddy vigorously shook her head. “I’m her sister,” she said, pointing at Camila.
Grandma Bryant narrowed her eyes and studied each of them in turn. “Hmph.”
“She’s actually my girlfriend,” Elliot said, then amended, “Well, used to be.” He cleared his throat and said, “Hi, Maddy.”
Maddy gave him a listless wave without making eye contact.
“For the best, I’m sure,” Grandma Bryant piped up. “I never thought you two suited each other.”
“That’s what I keep saying,” Kyle said, and then he hugged his grandmother.
“Dinner’s ready,” Camila announced.
Maecie helped carry dishes to the table. She couldn’t wait to dig into her very first, full-fledged family Thanksgiving meal. The tension between Elliot and Maddy aside, this was hands down the best holiday she’d ever experienced.
And she had Philip to thank for it.
Chapter Eleven
If he were honest with himself, Philip couldn’t recall a bad holiday gathering, per say. Although there had been plenty of awkward moments over the years. Especially after he started working as security detail for his less-than-up-and-up clientele.
The first Thanksgiving he’d spent with his family after he left the marines and started his new contract business had been one of the most uncomfortable of all.
The family kept peppering him with questions, which, in retrospect, he could admit had simply been curiosity. But he’d been so embarrassed, so frustrated by his own choices, he’d gotten defensive and had stormed away before Mom had offered up pumpkin pie for dessert.
After that, they quit asking questions and he’d withdrawn more and more, until he started making excuses, avoiding attending all but the biggest, most important family gatherings.
This year, this particular Thanksgiving, felt like they used to, before he’d made choices that he wasn’t particularly proud of. And since he hadn’t made any sort of career change, he knew it was all because of Maecie.
She fit in perfectly with his family. Just like he knew she would. And his mom, Camila, and Grandma Bryant all wanted her to do their hair. Since she’d agreed to all three of them, she must want to stick around, to get to know him and his family even better.
He liked that idea, a lot.
Dinner was loud but fun. Like all gatherings with his family, everybody talked over each other, all trying to tell stories or catch up on the latest gossip.
Did Tommy miss racing? Not really. Besides, he was too busy managing Rogers Speedway to miss actually being on the bike.
How was that going, by the way? Good, good. Tickets for next summer’s championship competition were already nearly sold out.
And how did Camila like co-managing a racetrack? It was a far cry from bartending, that was for sure. But it was fun, actually. She’d found her calling and had Tommy to thank for it.
How was Kyle’s shop doing? Business was booming. Everybody wanted to get their bikes fixed during the offseason so they were ready to go in the spring.
What was Maddy doing now that she’d graduated from college? She was an RN in an emergency room in the Detroit area and had gotten damn lucky to be here for Thanksgiving. She’d have to work Christmas to make up for it, but she hadn’t wanted to miss her sister and Tommy’s first family holiday in their new home.
And Elliot—had he figured out what he planned to do with himself now that he was finished with school? Nope.
What was Elliot’s degree in anyway? Photography.
What did one do with a photography degree?
On and on, until, not surprisingly, the conversation eventually made its way to Tommy and Camila’s upcoming nuptials. His mother had likely already abandoned her plans to try to set Philip up with a bridesmaid.
Good, because he wasn’t interested in anyone else except Maecie.
“Have you picked a date yet?” Mom wanted to know, and for once, the table fell quiet.
Tommy smiled at his bride-to-be. She reached over and twined her fingers with his. “We have, actually,” he said.
“It was hard to choose,” Camila added. “I really wanted a summer wedding, but that’s impossible with the racing season, and us being new owners of the race track.”
“Plus, we had the issue of who to invite. Every time we made a list, it was stupid big when we started looking at all the people involved with racing and the track,” Tommy said.
“What about having it at Rogers Speedway?” Dad suggested.
Tommy and Camila exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. “We may throw some sort of public reception there next summer, but for the actual wedding…” He shook his head. “That’s our time. Our moment.”
“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re going to elope,” Deanna said, a look of horror on her face.
Tommy chuckled and stood, walked over to the sideboard, and pulled a handful of envelopes out of the drawer. He started passing them around the table. “Not exactly. But we are doing something small.”
“What do you mean by small?” Mom asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Camila spoke up. “Small, as in the only other invitations we’re handing out, besides these, are to my parents and the rest of our grandparents.”
Mom snatched the envelope out of Tommy’s hand. “Invitation?” She tore it open and pulled out a square piece of cream-colored cardstock and stared at it for a long moment before pressing it to her breast.
“February! My baby’s getting married in three months!”
“Technically, I’m the baby,” Elliot said, raising his hand.
Deanna flapped her invitation at him. “You’re all my babies. And I am so excited that we’re adding Camila to the fold. And so soon. Are you going to wear a traditional wedding dress or something more beachy?”
Her question provoked Philip to slide his finger along the flap of the envelope Tommy had given him. Pulling out the cardstock and letting a thin bit of tissue paper fall to the table, he read the flowery font printed in dark blue. Looked like Tommy and Camila were getting married on the beach in Florida. On Valentine’s Day.
“We’d love it if you joined us, Maecie,” Camila said, smiling at Philip’s date.
She wasn’t his date, was she?
And if they were only inviting immediate family to this wedding, how come they’d included Maecie?
Hell, he hadn’t even told her he was interested in continuing their affair after all the drama with Frank Charles settled down. This was pretty damn presumptuous on his brother’s part.
While they fell into a discussion about dresses and how they planned to do the actual ceremony, Philip turned to Maecie. “Are you okay with this? I mean, if you don’t want to go, it’s okay.”
“Are you trying to give me an out because you’re afraid I don’t want to go or you’re afraid I do?”
He chuckled and shook his head, draping his arm across the back of her chair. He wanted to kiss her, but he should probably refrain while they were still seated around t
he table. In his mother’s currently elated state, she was bound to suggest a double wedding in February.
“I think you know.” And he knew she did, which was so cool. This woman got him and knew exactly how to pull him out of his shell.
But before he could tell the family that they needn’t worry, Maecie was most definitely going to the wedding, the doorbell rang, sending Freddy and Roger into tizzies.
Tommy stood and stabbed his finger at his mother. “I’m never forgiving you for all the work I’m going to have to do to unteach my dog all of your dog’s bad habits.” He looked down at Camila. “Do you think your parents came after all?”
Camila shook her head. “Dad is furious that we had the gall to want to spend our first Thanksgiving in our own home.”
Tommy placed his napkin on the table next to his plate and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
He headed to the door, and a moment later called out, “Hey, Philip, it’s somebody here to see you.”
Philip glanced at Maecie. She shrugged. Who the hell even knew he was here? He had an insane urge to insist the entire family clamor to the garage, which was the only part of this house he could think of that didn’t have windows everywhere.
But he was probably overreacting. Hopefully.
Richard stood on the front porch, in a brown leather jacket over a button-down shirt and a pair of khakis. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his facial hair definitely didn’t grow in as uniformly as Philip’s.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he reached the door.
“Everything good?” Tommy asked, looking like he was planning to stay by Philip’s side.
“Yeah, it’s cool. He’s an old friend. We’re going to go outside and talk for a minute.” He stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him.
“How the hell did you find me here?”
Richard ran his hand through his hair. “I followed your parents yesterday. I figured if they were coming here on the day before Thanksgiving, the rest of you would be here too. Nice place,” he added, taking in the wide, stone porch, the beach house detailing. “I’m guessing the brother who races lives here?”
Ignoring his question, Philip asked, “Why did you follow my parents? Why not just call me?”
Richard shrugged and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I wanted to be sure.” He stood on tiptoe, trying to look over Philip’s shoulder, through the plate glass window.
Philip followed his gaze. He could see Grandma Bryant seated at the end of the table. His empty seat was to her left, and Elliot was to her right. Even from here Philip could tell his youngest brother was not having the time of his life, even though Camila and Tommy had deliberately seated him as far away from his ex as possible.
Grandma was talking to someone to her left. Probably Maecie. They’d really taken to each other over dinner. Philip needed to ensure he and Maecie visited his grandmother as often as possible.
Grandma looked as if she were about to stand, but she sat again. A moment later, Maecie stepped into view and walked over to the sideboard, where she pulled a bottle of beer out of a bucket full of ice, popped the top, and handed it to Grandma.
Philip had never seen his grandmother drink beer in his life. She almost always drank red wine, occasionally switching to a cocktail like an old fashioned or maybe cranberry and vodka.
“I knew it,” Richard said. His friend was staring at the scene inside, his eyes wide and shiny. “I knew you had her.”
“Huh?”
Richard pointed. “The hairstylist. I knew she didn’t just walk away from that salon on her own. You helped her. You were there. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“First, you tell me why you’ve been looking for her.”
“She’s Frank Charles’s accomplice. We need to question her. She could help us close this case.”
“What about Frank himself?”
“Dead,” Richard said, confirming what Philip already suspected. “And the case is unraveling as a result. We need to question her.”
Philip shook his head. “She’s innocent.”
“Then she won’t mind coming in for questioning.”
Philip sighed. He had damn well known it was going to come down to this at some point. “Fine. I’ll drive her over to the Detroit field office tomorrow and you can question her then.”
Richard shook his head. “I need her today. I’ve got to close this case.”
“I’m going with you.”
The door opened, and Maecie stood there, looking hesitant, maybe a little shy. “Um, your mom sent me out here to check on you.”
Philip pointed. “Go back inside.” He sounded harsh, but this conversation was making him edgy and he wasn’t ready for her to join it yet. He’d make it up to her later. Hell, he’d tell her about this little chat verbatim, to ensure she didn’t get upset with him.
Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man, for keeping an eye on her for us. But I’ll take it from here. Let’s go, Maecie. Philip here says the handcuffs aren’t necessary, and I’m willing to take his word for it, but if you do anything fishy…”
“I told you she was—” Philip started.
“Questioning. That’s it. Just like Philip should have told you.”
“What?” Maecie turned her wide-eyed gaze onto Philip, and the accusation there might as well be a set of razor-sharp knives, all stabbing at his heart.
“You…” She shook her head. “You were keeping an eye on me?” She flung herself around to face Richard. “Who are you?”
“Richard Gerrard, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms.”
She lifted a hand. “ATF. I know what the acronym stands for. It stands for traitor.” She abruptly stormed back into the house and returned a few seconds later with her coat. “And user.”
“Maecie, you don’t have to—”
“What I don’t have to do, Philip, is stand here and listen to you blow smoke up my ass. Again.”
“Goddamn it, listen to me.”
“No.” She thrust her nose in the air and turned away from him.
“I’m going wi—”
“I can handle this,” Richard said, patting Philip’s shoulder. “It’s what the government pays me to do. You’ve done your part. Now let me do mine.”
“That’s not—” But she was already hurrying down the steps with Richard. Even when she climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt, she didn’t look up.
Son of a bitch. What had he said about this Thanksgiving being like the good old days?
“Everything okay?” Tommy asked from behind him. “Where’s Maecie?”
“Gone. On her way back to Detroit.”
“Why?”
Philip scrubbed his hands over his face. “Because I fucked up.”
“Why don’t you come inside and explain what the hell you’re talking about?”
Philip stepped into the house, but he didn’t head back to the dining room. “I slipped her away from a crime scene.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. “What?”
Philip nodded grimly. “Two days ago, I was watching this guy the ATF was suspicious of. He’s one of Maecie’s clients. While he was in her salon, a bunch of guys doing a lousy job of posing as the FBI showed up and shot the guy. Luckily, I was there at the time, and I grabbed her and took off before the shooters could come after us. The ATF is investigating, of course. They think her client was doing business with terrorists, and now they suspect Maecie’s an accomplice.”
“Damn. So this is the kind of stuff you’re talking about when you say you’re in ‘securities?’”
Philip grimaced. Not exactly, but he didn’t think now was a good time to get into precisely what he’d been doing for the last four years.
“Wait a minute,” Tommy said, shaking his head and lifting his hand, palm facing out. “Did you just say they think Maecie is involved? I know we haven’t known her long, but seriously? Maecie?”
Philip blew out a
long breath. “She’s innocent. I mean, I knew she was in my gut, but people with connections confirmed it for me. This is all just a formality, but it sucks because…”
“Because?”
He threw his hands in the air. “Because even though it was only two days, we got kind of close and-and—”
“You slept with her.”
His shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”
“So she’s definitely coming to the wedding.”
Philip barked out a humorless laugh. “Doubtful. She now believes I was ‘keeping an eye on her’ for the ATF.”
“Oh shit. She thinks sleeping with her meant nothing to you.”
“Pretty much.”
“Man, that sucks.”
“Thanks for your words of wisdom,” Philip said wryly. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out, hoping beyond hope that it was Maecie, even though she’d have to call from Richard’s phone. But that was okay, so long as he could talk to her and explain. Sleeping with her hadn’t meant nothing.
It had been everything.
But it wasn’t Richard’s name on his screen. It was a private number. He hesitated and then connected the call.
“This is Philip.”
“Philip, it’s Tito.”
Protecting Tito’s kids had been one of Philip’s first jobs as a security guard. He paid exceptionally well and had provided the most references out of anyone Philip had ever worked for. He was a good guy, if only he didn’t have ties to the mafia.
“Tito. Happy Thanksgiving. Is everything okay?”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours as well. Apologies for calling during what is probably family time, but I figured you’d like to know this as soon as I found it out, given the questions you were asking the other day.”
It was something about Frank Charles. It had to be.
“No problem. I appreciate your consideration. What is it?”
“Your bad guy isn’t Frank Charles. Or the hairstylist. It’s somebody working for the government.”
He gripped the phone so tightly he was afraid it might crack. “What do you mean?”
“Somebody at the ATF has gone over to the dark side.”
