Dare to Dream: The Maxwell Series

by S. B. Alexander

  My phone rang early that morning. Hunt called to tell me Lacey was on her way to her house. I’d filled him in last night after I’d spoken to her father. Knowing Hunt and Pitt’s men were tailing Lacey, I did feel a sense of calm wash over me.

  I sent a text to Wes asking him when I’d be tutoring Chloe. His reply said Friday this week. I had three days to figure out how to tell Lacey.

  I was drying off after my shower, thinking how to begin the conversation with Lacey’s father, when my own father called my name. “Kade, are you in here?” he asked.

  “I’ll be out in sec.” I finished toweling off and wrapped the terrycloth around my waist before walking into my room.

  “Hey, son.” He was staring at a picture of Karen on my dresser. “How’s Lacey this morning?”

  “Good. She went home to get some clothes.” I pulled on jeans then slipped on a Mötley Crüe T-shirt.

  “Is that wise, letting her go alone? Will she panic?” He studied me.

  Like I could stop her. “I don’t think so. It’s daylight. And there’s a cop there with her.”

  “Other than last night, what else is bothering you? I noticed you weren’t yourself when you were visiting your mother.”

  I combed a hand through my wet hair. “Do you think people listen to me?” My father and I had a great relationship. I always valued his advice, and on family issues, he always valued mine. Maybe that was why I always felt older than eighteen.

  He studied me as I rested a shoulder against the doorjamb of my bedroom. “Does this have anything to do with Lacey or why Kelton’s face looks like he collided with a wall?” He tucked his hands into his tailored suit pants.

  “Kelton was ambushed by Seever and Sullivan. Hunt and I intervened, but not soon enough. You know Kelton will get his punches in when he’s being attacked. Besides, Seever deserved it.”

  He gave me one of his fatherly looks that said no one deserves to be beaten. Then his features softened. “Son, people will listen to what they want to hear. However, in order for someone to hear you, you have to know what appeals to them. And you seem to have a knack for finding that one thread that hits a nerve in a person, whether it’s conscious or unconscious.”

  I went to sit on my bed. “The LAPD speculate that Mr. Robinson has something of value that someone wants. The problem is Mr. Robinson, his son, and Lacey don’t know what or who that is. I want to help. I just don’t know how. And after last night, I’m terrified for Lacey.”

  “Hunt’s brother works for the Guardian. Ask him to put some men on Lacey. Her father works nights, right? So, in the meantime, she can stay here. Or what about their former housekeeper, Mary? Is she still living with them?”

  “She’s away at the moment.”

  “I’ll talk to Mr. Robinson and clear it with him for Lacey to spend her nights here. But, son, if a person doesn’t know what people are after, it’s hard to resolve the situation. I’m sure the LAPD is doing everything they can on the case.” The bed dipped as he eased down next to me.

  “What if I knew something about her family that she doesn’t, and her father does? Do I let him tell her or do I? She hates when I keep things from her. But you’ve always taught us that we shouldn’t come in between family.”

  “Is it life or death if you don’t tell her?”

  I had bodyguards on her now. She wouldn’t die if I didn’t tell her about her father and his connection to the Pitt family. I didn’t know Mr. Robinson’s connection to Lorenzino. “I can’t be sure. I don’t think so.”

  “Do you trust the person who told you? As I’ve always said, make sure your facts are straight before you share information. I’ve seen soldiers get hurt and some die when we didn’t get our intel validated. I’m not saying you’re at war with Lacey. Feelings are fragile, and with her PTSD, I want you to tread carefully.” He unfolded himself.

  He was trying to tell me something without scaring me, and I knew what it was. I’d done my research when I found out Lacey had PTSD. She wasn’t suicidal. When I first met her, she did have a tendency to outbursts of anger. She didn’t trust easily, partly as a result of her former cheating boyfriend. Knowing all that, I was a pinhead for lying to her. Still, I didn’t know how to get around treading carefully without triggering any symptoms. I realized in that moment that I could empathize with her old man. He was probably waging his own internal war about what to tell his daughter, which neither Pitt nor Wes understood.

  “On another note. Your mom expressed interest in coming home. I’m thinking maybe for just one night might be a good idea. I want to see how she responds.”

  My heart nearly exploded with excitement. Having my mom home with us as a family again was a dream of mine.

  “That’s great news.” I smiled like a little boy who’d just gotten his first Tonka truck. I hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. Then I lost my smile. “When I was with her, she wasn’t herself.”

  “I know. A change of scenery might help. I was thinking that she could come to Kelton and Kross’s first baseball game. You know how she loved watching you boys play ball.” He relaxed his shoulders. Then he patted me on the back. “I hope to have your mom home permanently one day.”

  “I hope so, too. Do you think Mom will like Lacey?” Another one of my wishes I prayed for. I wanted Mom to see the beauty in Lacey.

  “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” He smiled, reminding me of my brothers.

  My father and I never talked about women or love. Not after he’d explained the birds and the bees to all us boys. His only involvement in our dating relationships was to ensure we went to our annual appointments to get tested.

  “I am.”

  He had one of those expressions that said it’s puppy love.

  “It’s not just first love either.” I’d dated several women. Not one of them gave me the rush or the tingles or made my insides turn upside down in a good way like Lacey did. “I can’t imagine my future without her.”

  His grin grew wider as though he was remembering when he’d fallen in love with Mom. “She’s a good girl, son. She’s good for you, and I’m happy that you found someone.” His smile vanished. “Protect her. Don’t suffocate her. I also know how possessive all you boys are. That’s not a bad thing in the least. Just make sure you know when to back off, and when not to. She’s a strong girl on the outside, but she is extremely fragile on the inside.”

  “She won’t let me suffocate her.” Lacey could put me in my place in a heartbeat. Hell, she had a time or two already. “Oh, one more thing, Dad. I’ll talk to Mr. Robinson about Lacey staying with us while he works nights. If he has any questions, I’ll tell him to call you.”

  “Very well. I love you, son. I need to run. I may be late tonight.” He left me with his wisdom.

  I barely had a minute to process our conversation before Lacey shuffled in, rosy cheeked and red nosed, with mussed hair and a dazed look in her eyes. She cozied up to me. I wrapped my arms around her, rested my chin on her head, and closed my eyes. My world was complete, even if only for a moment.

  * * *

  * * *

  Mr. Robinson was due to arrive at Logan around eight a.m. If rush hour traffic was flowing smoothly, then he should be at the house around ten thirty. Lacey was anxious to be home when her father got there, which put a wrinkle in my plan to talk to Mr. Robinson alone. While she showered, I asked Kross if he would meet me there. Somehow he could distract Lacey so I could get a minute alone with her old man, and if things got out of control between Mr. Robinson and me, I would have Kross available to intervene.

  Silence carried us most of the way to her house. She worried her bottom lip.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “I found a picture this morning in my dad’s office. It’s been bugging me.” She lifted her phone from her lap, tapped the screen, and showed me a picture of Lorenzino.

  Given what she’d been through last night, I was stunned that her mind was firing well enough to spot a pict
ure that was crucial to the problem we were facing.

  “I sent this to Detective Fisher. I’m waiting for him to reply or call me. It was odd that this picture was in a folder among all the other folders that had Eko Records contracts in them. The folder with this picture in it didn’t. What if my dad owes someone money? And they’ll do anything to get it? He could’ve angered the wrong people. This guy may be someone’s manager.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. Harrison Lorenzino could own a band or two and had a contract deal go bad. “It’s possible.” In today’s world though, people didn’t keep cash hidden in mattresses. If Mr. Robinson owed money, then I would’ve suspected a ransom deal or some other kind of intimidation, not someone tearing up a house to find money.

  By the time we got to her house, the power company technician was packing up his truck. The cop on duty was talking to him. Kross parked behind me.

  “Ma’am,” the cop said to Lacey. “Power should be on. Make sure you get the lock on that front door fixed. When your father gets home, have him contact us if you find anything missing.”

  “Thank you for all your help, Officer Yancey,” she said.

  The cop and the technician left the three of us standing in her driveway. We trekked down the path and into the house.

  “I vote for bars on the windows and thirty locks on the front door,” I teased.

  “Are you trying to keep me barricaded so you can have your way with me?” Lacey asked playfully.

  “Okay, you two. I know you both have sex on the brain, but don’t forget how cold it probably is inside. Kade would have shrinkage going on,” Kross said in a light tone.

  Lacey burst out laughing. Kross slapped me on the back. He wasn’t kidding. The house was freezing. I was glad he’d made her laugh though.

  Lacey disappeared down the hall.

  Kross looked around the place and said, “What the fuck.”

  Officer Wayland had said the house was trashed. Lacey’s expression when she’d returned earlier had given me the impression the damage had shocked her too. But I hadn’t asked. I was enjoying the feel of her soft body against my hard chest. I was also enjoying a cathartic moment I thought we both could use. Even so, seeing the hurricane that had whipped through the house rendered me speechless.

  “Should we start cleaning up?” Kross asked as he wandered into the family room.

  “We should wait for Mr. Robinson.” If my calculations were correct, he should arrive anytime.

  Lacey came back. “Heat should kick on. So you can both stop worrying about shrinkage.” She rolled her eyes.

  A car door slammed shut. Showtime. My nerves perked up, my hands became clammy, and my mind was still flipping through how this conversation was going to go, if I could get a minute alone with him. Although in light of Lacey having a picture of Lorenzino on her phone, I knew she was dying to ask her father who the man was. Maybe starting with Lorenzino would spark a domino effect that would lead Mr. Robinson to share what he knew about Lorenzino and, hopefully, his adoptive family.

  The door from the garage creaked open and was followed by Mr. Robinson’s voice, pitched as though he were speaking on the phone. “I got to run. I’ll call you later. Yes, son. I’m home.” He pocketed his phone as he entered the room. He barely had time to throw his keys on the counter next to the fridge before Lacey hurtled into his arms. “God, I’ve been so worried about you,” he said. They hugged each other for a moment. He regarded Kross and me. Dark circles fanned out beneath his eyes, and a heavy growth of facial hair covered his jaw. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  Kross and I ponied up to the kitchen island. I nodded.

  “You kids should get to school. I’ll take things from here,” he said.

  “We thought we could help clean up,” I said. “I brought muscle with me.” I flipped my thumb at my brother.

  Lacey’s phone rang. “Hi, Detective Fisher,” she said excitedly, bouncing down the hall out of sight.

  The blood drained from me. Mr. Robinson grimaced.

  Kross whispered. “What’s going on?”

  I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Lacey’s detective work. I shrugged as I widened my eyes at Mr. Robinson. I probably didn’t have enough time to say what I had to say before she finished her call. Mr. Robinson was rooted to a spot in front of the kitchen sink, listening intently to Lacey. I was curious too.

  “Do you know who that guy is?” she asked. “Hmm. He just walked in. Yes, the house was broken into last night. I will. Talk to you soon.”

  Her boots scuffed along the floor as she made her way back into the kitchen with a picture in her hand. She blew air out through her nose, seemingly annoyed. “Detective Fisher told me to talk to you. If you don’t tell me who this man is, then he will.” She skirted the island to stand near her father, holding up the picture in front of him. “The only thing he told me was that he was connected to the mob in LA. Fisher said you and he talked last night. Does the man in the picture have anything to do with the murders and the break-in?”

  Straight and to the point. That’s my girl. I gripped the icy cold granite of the island counter.

  “His name is Harrison Lorenzino, head of a mob family in LA,” Mr. Robinson said. “I don’t know if he has anything to do with what happened to Julie and your mom. I do know he thinks I have something of value of his.” His shoulders slumped, no doubt the weight of that one piece of information peeling a layer of stress away from him.

  Lacey glowered.

  “And what is that?” I asked. Pitt was right again.

  “A red ledger book,” Mr. Robinson replied. He pivoted, finding a glass and filling it with water.

  “And why would you have a red ledger book that belongs to a mob guy?” Lacey mashed her glossy lips together.

  “Because I suspect he’s my father, and he thinks my mother gave me the book.”

  I was in the middle of a soap opera. I needed a storyboard to map all this shit out. The man was connected to two mob families. No wonder he looked like shit.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lacey

  “I don’t understand,” I said, staring at my dad like I didn’t even know him all of a sudden. My eyebrows had to be deep into my hairline or maybe on the back of my head. “You always said your mom and dad were dead.” He never liked to talk about his parents, and if someone asked him, he’d change the subject.

  I recalled when Julie had pressured Dad on the subject about two years ago. We had been riding to church one day when it was unusually rainy for southern California, and Julie asked him how his parents had died. It was an innocent question, but to Dad the question was like the Bubonic Plague—to be avoided at all costs. I’d been sitting behind Mom, so I had a clear view of Dad while he drove. His knuckles grew white on the steering wheel.

  He’d taken a breath then speaking. “You will never ask me about my parents again. They’re dead.” The word dead was spoken with hurt and disgust, and I couldn’t tell why he felt such a mix of emotions over his parents. Later on, when Mom and I were alone, I asked her why Dad had gotten so angry. She told me Dad had a rough childhood and when he was ready he’d talk. He never did. I wasn’t surprised either. Dad clammed up tight when something bothered him.

  Several things in our lives were hard to deal with. I knew that better than anyone, especially when we were talking about two precious lives. I stared at my dad as the picture in my hand floated to the floor. “Are you going to answer me?” My voice trembled. The buzzing in my head began. I inched toward the island just as Kade came around with a barstool and helped me onto it.

  Kross carried another barstool over to Dad. “Sit, Mr. Robinson.”

  Dad straddled the seat and scrubbed his hands over his face, drawing them down slowly. “Two months before your mom and sister were killed, I got a package in the mail from my adoptive sister, Gloria. In it was a letter and a book of nursery rhymes.”

  Oh, my God. “Sister? When were you adopted?”

 
Dad scratched his head. “The short story for now. I was adopted when I was a baby. I never knew my biological parents. My adoptive mom had only known my birth mother briefly from church, but they became fast friends. My birth mother vanished soon after I was born. They searched for her but never found her.”

  “Are your adoptive parents alive?” I pressed my hands into my legs.

  “According to Gloria’s letter to me, no. And she also mentioned that my birth mother isn’t either. She’d tracked down Gloria just before she died of cancer and asked that she give me the letter and the book of nursery rhymes.” He snatched his wallet from his jeans pocket, removed a folded-up piece of paper, opened it, and read.

  Dear James, I struggled with my decision to give you up for adoption. In my mind, I had no choice. I had to make sure no one would ever find out that you came into this world and that I was your mother. I wasn’t a good person. I had a hard life. I wasn’t proud of some of the things I’d done or the choices I’d made. I prayed every day that the decision I made was the right one. I wanted you to have a good life, one where children thrived on good and not evil. I didn’t write this letter to ask for your forgiveness. I wrote it to say that I love you. The book of nursery rhymes is something I cherished as a child. I loved reading “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush” at night while I was pregnant with you. Maybe one day you can read them to your children. You’ll always be in my heart. With all my love.

  Dad sighed, and water pooled in his eyes.

  A pain clamped down on my heart at the thought that he never knew his biological mom, and now she was dead. I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dad. I would’ve loved to have met your mom, and your adoptive parents.”