Mr. CEO

by Willow Winters

  “So what happened to Samuel and Theresa? And how the fuck could they just leave their daughter like that?”

  Nathan shakes his head. “That I don't know. I spent weeks unable to sleep after I had to hold that little girl, sobbing in my lap before the cops arrived. She was so distraught she never realized, even though she'd seen me... what, by then it had to be hundreds of times. I took her home more than once, you know.”

  “Why was that?”

  Nathan sips at his water again, and sighs. “Peter isn't the only DeLaCoeur who has had a few affairs. Not that I blame Maggie, with the way Peter's treated her over the years. But some of those play dates or business meetings... well, Samuel was doing more than having drinks with Margaret. I doubt she knows about the faked deaths. Peter probably wouldn't have filled her in, since it would hurt her more to think Samuel died back then.”

  “What do you know about them now?” I ask, sipping my water. Nathan's showing at least a little bit of guilt, and as long as I have that, I'm going to drive with it, trying to use it to the best of my advantage. My jaw aches, but the peas help some. I'm more numbed by the idea of what Samuel did to his daughter, though. “Where's he live?”

  Nathan shakes his head. “After the bomb, I only saw Samuel Grammercy one more time. Peter had gotten him some top-flight fake IDs, good enough to pass anything short of the FBI, and I delivered it to him at the airport. He and Theresa were booked on a flight, but I never troubled myself to find out where. Safer and less guilty to not know.”

  “Miami,” I inform him, sitting back on the lounge chair. “That's a hell of a burden to carry for the past ten years, Nathan. I have a feeling it's not your lightest, either.”

  “I've seen some things,” Nathan agrees. “Your point is?”

  “You said it yourself. Maybe it's time to start balancing your ledger. I know that you can't stop Peter from sending other men against Katrina. But that doesn't mean you can't help us, too.”

  “Us?”

  I shrug. “Regardless of if she's doing it for the right reasons or not, her cause is noble. I told her I'd help her, too. I'm asking you... whose side of this are you on?”

  “Seems like an easy choice,” Nathan says after sitting still for a few minutes, watching the moon reflected in the black mirror of the pool. “On one hand, there's Peter, who's made me a rich man, a lot richer than I'd have been if I'd stayed in the Army, or if I'd gotten a job with a more legitimate employer as a real security officer. He's connected, and one of the most dangerous men along the Gulf Coast. On the other hand, I have a crazy twenty-two-year-old girl, with barely a dime to her name most likely, and my employer's son, who until just about an hour ago, I thought was more or less a spoiled little bitch.”

  “Bitch, huh? I would have thought I at least rated being called a spoiled little prick, but all right,” I joke, not as offended by his words as I would have been even a week or so ago. Now, it means nothing to me. I have something more important than my ego to worry about. “It does seem like an easy choice.”

  Nathan nods. “It does. So... how best can I help you guys?”

  “Let me find out what Katrina wants to do, and I'll be in touch with you. Until then, I'd say just keep trying to distract Peter from finding her.”

  “I can do that. Now, if you don't mind, I need some meditation and a little shut-eye. Goodnight, Jackson.”

  “Goodnight. Oh, and Nathan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you mind if I joined you for tea tomorrow? I'd like to talk more about... things.”

  Nathan nods and gives me half a smile. “I'd say that would be possible. But first, make sure you do your reading for your sister. I'd hate to disappoint her.”

  “How'd you know about that?”

  Nathan laughs. “I'm the head of security for this house. It's my job to know as much as possible. Goodnight, Jackson.”

  Chapter 15

  Kat

  I've never been to Darcy's house since she and Jeff got married. It isn't that she never wanted me over. In fact, she's invited me multiple times. No, the reason that I've never been to this neat little two-bedroom house in the Leonidas neighborhood is that I didn't want to put Jeff in a bind. He's her husband, but also a good cop. Not that any cop can be totally clean in a town like this, and Jeff's helped out Darcy more than once, but I've never wanted to push it this far before.

  So it's with no surprise that Bo, the three-year-old brown and white pit bull Darcy got as, for some reason, a baby shower gift from one of her friends, is wary of me as I stand outside the fence, waiting for Darcy to let me in.

  “Hey little mama, you lookin' good enough to eat with a biscuit,” a young guy, maybe my age or maybe a little younger, says as he goes by before stopping to see if maybe he has a chance.

  “Not interested,” I say. “I have a man,” I add, before letting him respond.

  I’m surprised when he actually moves on, and Bo the pit bull watches the guy for a moment before turning his attention back to me. I think about the lie I just said, chuckling a little to myself. Maybe I do, or I will.

  Darcy comes out just after the guy moves on, calling to Bo. “Bo... get your butt up here on the porch,” she hollers, still smiling as she walks down the short concrete walk. Bo immediately turns and runs up, wagging his tail and grinning at his mistress, begging for affection. “Okay, okay, you big puppy, you protected the house. Now, I’m going to let my friend in, and you are going to behave. This is my friend Kat that I told you about, okay?”

  Bo wags his tail again like he understands and runs off to the back of the house, while Darcy watches him go. “He looks like a hundred and ten-pounds of badass, but he ain't nothing but a baby,” she tells me as she opens the gate. “You scratch him behind his left ear and he'll love you for life.”

  “Hint noted,” I say, giving her a hug once I'm inside the gate. “Thanks for letting me come by.”

  “I knew it would happen someday. Just wish you hadn't called when I have laundry in the living room,” Darcy half-jokes as we go inside. I see the basket, but it's mostly folded, except for some toddler's clothes. Henry is napping in a partially reclined chair, his chubby cheeks puffing out with every little exhalation.

  “He's even cuter than the pictures,” I whisper softly, kneeling in front. He's a beautiful little boy, Darce.”

  “Yeah, but hell in my workshop,” she says with a little smile. “That boy has an unbelievable knack for being able to crack the connections on video cards that I just got lined up.”

  I chuckle and sit down in front of the laundry basket, taking out a tiny t-shirt and starting to fold it. “Then I guess I should be glad you haven't brought him by. He'd have a field day with my setup.”

  Darcy laughs and nods. “So what's up?”

  I start folding another shirt, but the emotions are too much, and I keep fumbling it, turning the tiny little Elmo shirt into a ball. Finally, I give up and toss the shirt back into the basket, and bury my head in my hands. The tears are hot, bitter, and I don't even realize they're flowing until I can't see anymore, and I feel Darcy put her hands on my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. Her casual accent is gone, and she's back to being her normal Darcy, calm and supportive. “Shh, Baby Girl, shh... you just let yourself cry. I'm right here.”

  It's been years since I last wept, so long I can't even remember it. I know it was after Virginia took me in, but that's about it. I didn't even know I could cry still, but sitting there, Darcy holding me close like I was her own child, I cry, all the pain and anger of the past twelve hours flowing out into her tank top. I don't know how long I cry, but when it's gone, I feel hollowed out, cauterized. “Thanks.”

  Darcy nods and hands me a hand towel from the basket. “Here, wipe yourself down. I'd get you a tissue, but I know you hate those things. Ain't got a handkerchief around, though.”

  “This is fine,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I hope Henry won't mind me borrowing it.”

  “Oh, that one's Jeff's,” D
arcy says with a little chuckle. “But no, he won't mind. Now, what's going on?”

  “My parents... they may be alive,” I say, looking up into Darcy's big brown eyes. “At least... my father might be.”

  Darcy blinks, absorbing the information. “He faked his death?”

  I nod. “That's what it seems like. I got a message from a source last night, and Jackson says he confirmed it with Nathan Black. The bomb that went off, it was a ruse. They... they abandoned me.”

  The words start fresh tears, more sad than angry and bitter, and I'm crying for the six years of foster care, of the decade of pitiless training, of obsession that I'm still not free of. I wipe at my eyes again, not letting myself lose control. Darcy hums, then gives me an intense look. “So you want my help?”

  I nod and fold the hand towel in half to get rid of the snottiness. “Yeah. According to the source, he's living in Miami under the name Michael Ball. Now, I remember you mentioning you've got some connections in Miami. Familywise, even.”

  “I do, a few cousins, an ex-boyfriend, too,” Darcy agrees. “You want me to use my resources?”

  “Would you? I mean, I'll work my end, but you've got feet on the ground already in Miami.”

  “Sure. For you, I'd go to Miami myself and track your daddy down. Can I ask you a question, though?”

  “Shoot,” I say, reaching into the laundry basket and taking out the Elmo shirt I screwed up before. The words about my parents out, I find that I'm able to actually fold the shirt halfway decently.

  “If this is true... what's that do to your plans?” Darcy asks. “You've been gunnin' for blood for a decade, but is it still worth blood?”

  I think about it, then shake my head. “I don't know anymore. I know Peter needs to go down still. The entire DeLaCoeur network needs to be dismantled. But...”

  “But you've got complications now,” Darcy says simply, nodding. “You're thinking about what this means to Jackson, to Andrea. And I'm going to be blunt, you're thinking more than just about what you did to Jackson.”

  “I… I don't know,” I reply honestly. “It's like you said, complicated. He's an ally, that's for certain. Considering he went toe to toe with Nathan last night in boxing, he deserves at least that much.”

  Darcy hums knowingly, and I give her a look. “What?”

  “Nothin'. Just glad to see that you're maybe considering that there's more to life than death and revenge. Listen, if you've got a few hours, I can get to work on reaching out to my contacts now. We might have something for you by the time Jeff gets home, he's working a double today.”

  “Ouch, double shifts? What's up?”

  Darcy shakes her head. “Contract talks are coming up, and a lot of guys are calling out sick because they think the new contracts are going to take away their built-up sick days. Jeff isn't mad though, the day shift's doing community outreach at one of the elementary schools, then just catching up on paperwork. His sergeant's looking out for him.”

  “When is Jeff going to go for sergeant?” I ask. He’s a year younger than Darcy at thirty-one, and has been on the NOPD for eight years now, so I'm curious. “And yeah, I can hang out a little bit.”

  “Good. And Jeff thinks that maybe a sergeant slot's going to open up pretty soon. He's already a training officer, he thinks he can maybe make a shift sergeant slot as soon as the new fiscal year comes up. A couple of guys are slated to retire, and he's one of the top training corporals. If not, he'll look for an Academy slot, see if he can maybe get a daytime only shift job for a year or two.”

  “That'd be nice. With Henry going to preschool soon and all. You sure you don't need more help with him?”

  Darcy shakes her head and chuckles. “You know how it is, Kat. I make more than enough with my work that I can afford to spend time with Henry. Besides, I do too much and it starts to look strange to the IRS. Don't need them sniffing my backtrail.”

  “You're legit now,” I remark, putting the last of the clothes in the basket. “You really think they'd chase down BlakDhal1A?”

  “I think after I cracked a couple of government d-bases three years ago that I haven't told you about totally, they'd chase me for quite a while,” Darcy says. “Come on, let's get these put away, and I'll start making phone calls.”

  Darcy's still working her connections when Jeff comes in, his blue on blue uniform causing me to sit upright before I realize who it is. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he says, obviously confused. “Uh, you are?”

  I get up off the couch, where I've been reading some Clifford the Big Red Dog to Henry, who's more interested in chewing on the foot of his teddy bear than my reading.

  “Sorry, I'm Katrina Grammercy. I'm a friend of Darcy's. Nice to meet you.” I offer my hand, which Jeff shakes with a smile.

  “It's been too long since I heard your name for the first time. Nice to finally meet the Baby Girl.”

  I roll my eyes as Jeff laughs. “Is she going to call me that for the rest of my life?”

  “Shit!” we hear from the back of the house, and we both look. Darcy comes out, her brown eyes slightly red with frustration and embarrassment. “Sorry. Sorry Henry, Mommy's just upset.”

  Henry mumbles something, turning over. He gets off the couch and comes over to Jeff, his arms out for a hug. Jeff sweeps his son up and into his arms, covering his little face and tummy with kisses. “Daddy silly!”

  “You make Daddy silly,” Jeff says, giving his son another hug. “Now, hang out for a second with Kat and let me get this uniform off. You don't need to be messin' with anything Daddy's got on.”

  I notice that Jeff's not carrying, and he meets my eyes. “Since Henry was born, I leave it in my cruiser,” he explains. “The take-home policy on the cruiser is a bit expensive, but the neighbors like it, and it's safer for Henry. I can leave both my Smith and my shotgun in the trunk there.”

  “Nothing for home defense?” I ask, and Jeff shakes his head. “Wow... gutsy.”

  “Not all of us are willing to keep a Glock 18 in our living room,” Jeff replies, telling me he knows more about my operations than he might otherwise have. “Don't sweat it, I understand. Just... be careful with that thing, okay?”

  “I am,” I answer, taking Henry from him and holding the squirming little boy, who promptly grabs a handful of my hair and yanks. “Ouch, glad I don't wear earrings either.”

  “So what's the cursing about?” I ask, carefully pulling my hair free from Henry's grip as Darcy comes in. He's got strong little hands, and even my two inches of hair stings as he yanks. “You need to get him into arm wrestling ASAP.”

  “Don't encourage him,” Darcy says with a chuckle. “But I'm having problems with my contacts. Seems it's been too long since I checked in with them down there, some have moved out, some have dropped out of the game, some are just... not available. And my ex-boyfriend's getting married. Feel bad for whoever that poor girl is.”

  “So nothing?” I ask, and Darcy quickly shakes her head. “Well, what then?”

  “Something, but it's going to be slow. I don't think you've got the leeway to sit around waiting,” Darcy says, “not with what Peter's surely getting ready to send after you.”

  I nod, then shrug, helpless. “Can't do much else. If I have to, I'll go running, take down Peter, then worry about my parents later.”

  “Or you could ask for help from someone else,” Jeff says, coming out of the master bedroom. “Darcy, I've never helped you before like this, but you've never asked for it.”

  “Wanted to keep you out of trouble,” Darcy replies. “Plausible deniability and all that stuff.”

  Jeff comes over and wraps his arms around Darcy's waist from behind, chuckling. “I lost all sense of plausible deniability when I married you, Darce. Besides, this doesn't sound all that risky. What're you looking for?”

  “My parents,” I say, and Jeff gives me a questioning look. “Yeah, I thought so too until yesterday. Seems they ghosted on us, and they're in Miami. Darcy's been trying to us
e her contacts to help me find them.”

  “Well, I've got some contacts, too,” Jeff says, going over to the counter and opening his cell phone. “Ones who can legally do what you guys are trying to do.”

  Jeff taps at his phone, going over to the couch and sitting down. Darcy and I exchange looks, and she shrugs. She doesn't know what he's doing either. Jeff ignores us for a moment and talks to someone on the other end of the line.

  Darcy snaps her fingers in recognition and leans over, whispering. “Gabriel Hawkins, he's an Academy friend of Jeff's, and he's one of the sysadmins for the NOPD's connection with the national crime database.”

  I nod and sit down on the carpet while Jeff talks. “Okay, yeah, I'll owe you some barbecue, that's all good. Thanks, man. Sure... name...”

  “Michael Ball.”

  “Michael Ball, not sure on the spelling of Michael. Age? Between forty-five and fifty claimed.”

  “Jeff knows a lot,” I comment, looking at Darcy who nods.

  “He's been interested in the case ever since he learned of our friendship. He knows more about the case than most.”

  “Just a second, Gabe,” Jeff says, then covers his phone. “Any more information?”

  “White male, five-foot-eight, brown/brown, and... he might be a bartender,” I say, recalling everything from memory.

  Jeff gives me a thumbs up and uncovers his phone, repeating what I told him. “Yeah, that's what I was thinking, cross-referencing the name with the ABC list of bartender licenses. The ID's false, but probably good enough to get by the ABC. Yeah, you can do that? Cool. No, I'll wait.”