She was already in bed, wearing one of Brent’s big shirts, by the time he made it to bed. She could hear him remove his clothes and then she heard him get in bed behind her. He wrapped his arm across her body.
“Is he asleep?” she asked him.
“Finally, yep. He’s exhausted.”
“And so are you,” Makayla reminded him.
“I’m just glad he ate your cooking.”
“Ate my foot! He devoured my cooking! That boy was hungry.”
“He was also terrified of water. Or a tub filled with water, since he had no problem taking a shower.” Brent exhaled. “He might have been abused, Makayla.”
“Or witnessed a lot of it,” Makayla suggested.
Brent nodded. “Right.”
“You’re taking on a lot, Brent.”
“I’m realizing that.” He paused. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take it on with me.”
“Well I wouldn’t understand it,” Makayla said. “I say I love you, and want to marry you, but as soon as drama comes I bounce? I couldn’t understand that at all.”
Brent smiled and moved closer against her. He also lifted the shirt she wore, positioned his penis between her legs, and rested there.
Makayla fell asleep, and woke up, throughout the night. One time she woke up, Brent’s penis was inside of her, making love to her, and she got into it too. It was the most relaxing fuck they’d ever had. He remained behind her, both remained on their sides, as the sensations rolled and rolled and he gyrated and gyrated until they both came. Then she fell back asleep.
But every time she woke up, every single time, Brent was still holding her tightly, and was still wide awake.
“It’s going to be alright, Brent,” she remembered saying one of those times. And then falling asleep all over again.
Outside of Brent’s home, a car sat at the edge of his property. It had been sitting there for several hours. Until finally, when it was obvious there would be no movements tonight, the car cranked up, and drove away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I’ll get it,” Makayla yelled upstairs early the next morning, as she hurried from the kitchen to answer Brent’s front door. When she saw Charles and Jenay, and Donald and Ashley, she laughed. “Wrong house,” she said and playfully attempted to close the door.
The Sinatras laughed, and Charles opened it back. “Wrong my ass,” he said with a smile and gave Makayla a hug. “How are you, dear?” he asked.
“I’m good. Thanks for asking. What are you guys doing here?”
“We wanted to see the boy again,” Charles admitted.
They all came in, hugged Makayla, and Donald closed the door.
“Where’s Junior?” Jenay asked, looking around.
“Upstairs,” she said. “And it’s Marcus now. He told us his name is Marcus.”
“Well now,” Charles said, “that’s progress.”
“Come on guys and have a seat,” Makayla said, escorting them into the living room. “And you’re right. He gives us dribs and drabs, but it’s better than nothing.”
“I’ll say,” Jenay said. “Marcus what?”
“He hasn’t gone that far.”
They sat on the sofa, Charles with Jenay beside him, and Donald with Ashley beside him.
“Can I get you guys something to drink, or eat?” Makayla asked.
“No, Mal, we’re good,” Jenay said just as Brent came downstairs, dressed in his usual tailored suit, collarless shirt, and hat in hand. “What is this?” he asked as he came down. “A Sinatra family reunion?”
“Not quite,” Donald said. “Makayla’s not a Sinatra yet.”
“Yes, she is,” Brent said boldly as he walked up and stood beside her, placing an arm around her. “Marriage will only confirm it.”
“How’s my grandson?” Charles asked.
Brent sat down in the flanking chair, and Makayla sat on the arm beside him. “He had a rough night,” he said, crossing his leg. “But he eventually got some sleep. He’ll be down in a minute.”
Ashley smiled at Makayla. “Congrats, Mal,” she said.
“Thanks, Ash.”
“Mom says I can help with the planning. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t. Are you kidding? I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“It’s going to be boss,” Ashley boasted. “With Brent’s money, we are going to hook you up, girl!”
Jenay and Makayla laughed. Charles smiled and looked at his son. “Get used to it,” he said. “But about Marcus,” he added, “has he given any idea about who his mother could be?”
“Nothing,” Brent said.
“It can’t be that many women,” Charles said. “Can it?”
Makayla looked at Brent. “Can it, Brent?”
“It can,” Brent said, placing his arm around her waist, “and you know it can.”
“Word is all around town about you having a kid,” Ashley said. “People say they saw him, and they say he looks just like you.”
“They weren’t lying,” Donald said. “He does look like Brent.”
And then Brent’s lookalike, Marcus, came downstairs. He wore the jeans and shirt Brent had purchased for him the day before.
When he walked up to his father and Makayla, he leaned against them. And then looked at Charles. “Where’s Bonita?” he asked.
And it was like joy to them, because even he was smitten with Nita.
Everybody laughed.
But if Brent thought he had a breakthrough and Marcus had suddenly developed the gift of gab, he was woefully mistaken. Marcus said nothing more than to ask about Bonita. When he was told that Tony had taken her to school, that was the end of his inquiry. They tried asking him all kinds of questions, about his own school, and what grade he was in, and on and on and on. But they got nowhere.
Eventually, the family left, Brent walked Makayla out to her car, and then he and Marcus made their way back to the station. Brent spent the morning attempting to phone all of the relevant women who might be Marcus’ mother, but only managed to reach one: Olivia. And she didn’t know a thing either.
Makayla wasn’t in her office a solid hour, reviewing cold case files, when Ira Stockton walked in with a folder in his hand. “Your second day,” he said. “Your first case.”
Makayla smiled. That was what she was talking about! “Sounds good,” she said as she accepted the folder. “What’s the story?”
“A possible child murderer.”
Makayla froze, and then looked at her boss. Could it be? It had to be the same case. “A child murderer?” she asked.
“Even in Jericho. We have sickos here too. The child was found in a motel room with a bloody knife in his hand, and with a butchered body by his side. JCPD just handed it over.”
Makayla’s heart began to pound. “How old is the child?” she asked. She knew it couldn’t possibly another case out there, but she felt a need to ask it.
“Ten, eleven. They aren’t sure yet. He’s not talking.”
“Is he from around here?”
“They don’t think so, but they don’t know that either.”
“They don’t seem to know anything.”
“They know this,” Ira said. “He had paper in his pocket with the name Brent Sinatra, Jr. written on it.”
Makayla already knew about all of that. What was stunning to her was the fact that Ira would ask her to handle it. “Brent Sinatra, Jr.?” she asked.
Ira exhaled. “It’s believed that the boy is the Chief’s son. And I know you’re wondering why I would give you a case like this. And I understand your concern. But I think it’s the perfect opportunity for you. This is your chance to prove your meddle, Makayla. This is your chance to prove the critics wrong who think you’re going to be nothing more than a puppet on the Sinatra string. Prove that you deserve this job and will be fair and just. A chance like this only comes around once in a lifetime. Your chance is coming earlier than either one of us could have ever imagined. Get to th
e police station, and show this town what you’re made of.”
He didn’t understand what he was asking of her. But she did understand employment, and the fact that he was her boss, and the fact that she was in no position to turn down anything. “Yes, sir,” she managed to say without cracking her voice. And rose, grabbed her keys, her briefcase, and her worried heart, and did as she was ordered to do.
Walter Pierce knew time was running out. He ran into his hotel room, threw his clothes in his suitcase, and hurried back out of the door. He didn’t take the elevator, he was smarter than that, and took off down the stairs. By the time he made it down, across the lobby, and out into what he called freedom, he was ready to exhale. But he didn’t until he hailed a cab, got in, and locked the door. He was in the heart of Boston, heading for the airport, and he felt as if he had just dodged the biggest bullet of his life.
Until he didn’t.
As soon as the cab turned down a side road, a road Walter didn’t even realize they had no business going down, the driver stopped, turned around, and put a bullet through Walter’s head. The driver, the man Walter sneeringly nicknamed Mister Hide, smiled. “Another goof,” he said to his now dead investigator, “so poof.”
And then he turned around, and kept driving.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Makayla entered the Jericho Police Station feeling as if she was groping in the dark. The idea that Ira would assign the case to her amazed her. And for him to say that this case would be her defining case concerned her. Because he made it sound as if she had to choose, and the choice wasn’t between right and wrong, but justice and Brent.
And she still had so many questions. What if it was all some big mistake? Was some woman attempting to extort money out of Brent and was pulling off this elaborate hoax? And what if it was true, and Marcus was his son? What if he had to choose between keeping Marcus by getting back with his mother? What if he had to choose them over her? Brent was the kind of man who would take care of his responsibilities. Of that she had no doubt. But that didn’t ease her anxiety. Because that same integrity might force him to make an even tougher decision regarding the child and the child’s mother. Makayla could be the odd woman out when it was all said and done. She let out a hard exhale as the desk sergeant pointed her upstairs, and she made her way in that direction. This was not the way she had ever envisioned her new life would begin.
When she walked up to Belma Finch’s desk on the second floor, Belma smiled. She liked Makayla. “Hey, Mal,” she said.
“How are you?”
“Not bad for an old lady. But I’m afraid the Chief is plenty busy this morning.”
“I’m not here for that. I mean, I’m not here for personal reasons. I’m here from the D.A.’s office regarding the young suspect.”
“Oh.” Belma was surprised. “Well, since you’re here on official business, go on in.”
Makayla smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she was too stressed to be that cavalier, as she knocked one time and then entered Brent’s office.
Brent was seated on the sofa, leaned back, with Marcus seated beside him. Tony sat beside Brent. When the two men looked up at the entrance, and saw her, they both were surprised.
“Makayla,” Tony said, rising to his feet, as if he had forgotten all about her.
Brent was surprised too.
“You can sit back down, Tone,” she said. “I’m not here as future sister-in-law. I’m here as Deputy D.A.”
Tony was amazed. “Ira assigned this case to you?”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile that appeared more nervous than joyful. “Can you imagine that? But yeah.” Her smile was gone. She looked at Brent and the boy. “Hey, Marcus.”
Marcus waved at her.
Brent was staring at Makayla as she stared at his son. He reached out his hand to her. “Come here,” he said.
Tony moved out of the way as Makayla took Brent’s hand and sat beside him and the boy. He kept one arm around his son, and placed the other arm around her. She immediately felt a sense of comfort and relief just sitting beside him.
Brent looked her dead in the eye. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m just . . .”
“I can’t believe Ira would assign this case to you.”
“It’s shocking that’s for sure. And I guess I’m still getting over it all, you know? For the longest time, while I was driving over here, I kept hoping that it was some big mistake, and that all we needed to do was have a DNA test to prove it.” She looked at Marcus again. “But his face proves it, Brent.”
“Ah,” Tony interjected as he leaned against Brent’s desk, “I hate to drop some truth on you guys but looks are deceiving more often than you think. A child can look like a man and not be any kin to him.”
“I agree,” Makayla said, looking at Tony. Then she looked back at the boy. “But there’s no deception here. Looking at him is like looking at Brent.”
Brent knew it too. He pulled her closer against him, and stared at his son again too.
“And still no headway finding the mother?” Makayla asked him.
Brent shook his head. “Nothing. I was able to contact one more today, but no luck. There’s more than one possibility still out there.”
Makayla managed to smile. “You mean I’m not the first brown sugar you’ve ever tasted?”
“Ha!” Tony said. “I hate to drop some truth on you guys again, but Brent could fill a phonebook on how many---”
“That’s enough, Tony,” Brent said firmly, and then looked at Makayla. “He’s exaggerating.”
“What are we going to do?” Makayla asked.
And the fact that she said we, as if they were in this together, warmed Brent’s heart. He knew he had made the right choice when he chose Mal. “I took a DNA test because Tony is right for once in his life. It’s already a certainty for me, but a test makes sense.”
“But what about the criminal investigation? What are we going to do about that? I read the report. It’s very incriminating, Brent.”
“This boy didn’t harm anybody. He’s a victim. I don’t know why that man had him in that motel room, but it wasn’t because he wanted to be there.”
Makayla was surprised by Brent’s justifications. She’d never known him to dismiss obvious evidence so easily. But she’d also never known him to be a father before either.
And she was right. Once Brent held the little one in his arms, and touched him and smelled him, it was over. The bond was already set. Nobody was doing anything to harm this child ever again.
His office door opened just as he was about to make that point clear, and Eddie Rivers hurried in. When he closed the door behind him, Brent knew he had news.
Eddie walked up to Brent, surprised that Makayla was there. “You aren’t representing the D.A.’s office I hope,” he said.
“I am,” she said.
Eddie stared at her. He would always have a soft spot for Makayla. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good, Eddie. Thanks for asking.”
“What did you find out?” Brent asked him.
Eddie turned his attention back to his boss. “We’ve identified the victim.”
That was more news than Brent had expected to hear this early. “And he is?”
“Marcus Stravinsky, although he goes by the name of Mark.”
Brent remembered how Marcus hated to be called Marc. He looked at Marcus. No response. Brent frowned and shook his head. “Never heard of him,” he said.
“Me neither,” Tony said.
“Who is he?” Brent asked. “Is he from Jericho?”
Eddie smiled. “He’s none other than the Lieutenant Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”
Everybody in the room were stunned. “The Lieutenant Governor?” Brent needed to make certain he heard Eddie correctly.
“What is the lieutenant governor of Massachusetts doing in some rundown motel in Maine?” Tony asked.
 
; “And not only that,” Eddie said. “But he’s also a candidate for the senate in this election cycle.” More shock from the room. “Oh, yeah,” Eddie responded to their unspoken surprise. “He’s a United States senate candidate. So hold onto your hats, folks. This is about to be some big-ass news.”
“But what is his connection to this little boy?” Makayla asked.
“This boy, according to the Massachusetts State Police, is his son.”
“His son?” Makayla asked. “His adopted son?”
“Biological son,” Eddie corrected her. “I asked them that specifically. His name is Marcus Stravinsky, Junior, and both father and son were reported missing late last night.”
Brent squeezed Makayla tighter as he asked the all-important question. “Who is his mother?”
Eddie looked at the notepad he had in his hand. “Her name is hyphened.”
“What’s the name, man?” Tony asked impatiently. He was as nervous as Brent and Makayla.
Eddie flipped a page. “Here it is. Her name is Denise Donahue-Stravinsky,” he said. And then he looked up again. It was obvious that Makayla had never heard of her. It was also obvious that Brent and Tony had.
“Denise,” Tony said, shaking his head.
“Denise,” Brent said, shaking his head too.
“We should have known,” Tony said.
“I didn’t get a reaction out of him when I said her name,” Brent remembered. “I got a reaction out of him when I said Candace’s name.”
“Or,” Tony said, “a late reaction. Since you said Candace’s name after Denise’s, maybe you were getting a delayed reaction from him. He heard his mother’s name, digested it, and then reacted. Ever so slightly he reacted, but I saw a reaction too.”
“I take it this Denise is on the list?” Makayla asked Brent.
Brent nodded. “She’s on the list,” he said. She was among the ones who broke his heart. Then he looked at Eddie. “Is she on the way?”
Brent Sinatra: All of Me Page 15