But she wouldn’t run interference for Mama, who had bullied Marc in the first place. Mama had pushed the issue, and she deserved what she got. If Marc decided to temporarily move out, then Courtney wasn’t about to feel bad.
“Sounds like you travel light,” she said. “I’ll go now then. Will you look through the file while I’m gone? We can work out the details of our arrangement when I get back.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She slipped the cottage key from her pocket and handed it to him. “Make yourself at home.”
Then she headed to the door, so very aware of each step, the measured length of her strides, the whisper of her shoes on the floor, the way her hands dangled at her sides as if she was suddenly unsure what to do with them. As if his dark gaze followed her every step. When she finally pulled the door shut, she inhaled deeply, apparently her first real breath in a while because she felt light-headed.
What was wrong with her?
She had way more important things to deal with than physical awareness of a man who was an idiot. Taking another deep breath, she walked briskly to her car. Anxiety must be getting the better of her or else her emotions wouldn’t be all over the place.
Marc DiLeo? No way.
But even Courtney’s dismissal of her haywire reactions didn’t stop her from obsessing.
She bypassed Mama’s house. Instead, she drove onto the expressway and headed out of metro New Orleans for her brother’s house. She needed some time to wrestle her racing thoughts under control so she could effectively deal with Mama the bully.
By the time the security guard logged her tag number at her brother’s subdivision, Courtney was grateful for every mile she had put between her and the man she’d left in the cottage. Mac and Harley’s place bordered a conservation lot, and winding through the subdivision felt like driving into another world. The streets were shaded with old cypresses and oaks. The homes were set far back from the street.
Pulling into the driveway, she parked and peeked inside the garage to see if her brother’s car was there. It wasn’t, so she used her key to let herself in, calling out, “Harley, it’s me. Do not get up.”
There was no reply, so Courtney took the stairs two at a time and found her sister-in-law scowling when she walked into the bedroom.
Harley was such a beautiful woman, exquisitely feminine with big blue eyes and a cloud of red hair. She sat propped up with pillows, fully dressed in a comfy-looking shorts ensemble and strappy sandals.
“You look like you’re going somewhere.”
“I am,” Harley said. “Insane. Just a heads-up.”
“No worries. I can take you.” A first since Harley had been Damon’s protégé at martial arts from the time they’d been kids. She must surely have a black belt or two by now.
Harley narrowed her gaze and folded her arms. “Just kick me when I’m down, why don’t you?”
“I would never.”
“Why are you here? I know you didn’t come to visit, because Mac wouldn’t have left had he known you were on the way.”
“Where is everyone? It’s Sunday. Am I missing some performance I wasn’t made aware of?”
“Mac and Toni are with your parents,” Harley said. “Your dad is taking everyone out for dinner. Except me.”
“I’m sure they’d have gotten takeout and picnicked with you, though. They’re just looking for things to do that get Grandpa out of the house.”
“No picnics. Dinner out works for all of us. I can’t cook, and they’ve been hovering, trying to cheer me up. I’m so grumpy even I feel bad.”
“Humph.” Courtney sank onto the bed, careful not to jar the pregnant lady and the new little niece or nephew. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t go to dinner, too. I went to Mama’s instead.”
Of course Courtney had declined her parents’ dinner invitation specifically because she didn’t want to get into the details about why she was on leave.
“Mama mentioned that you’d been there today.”
“That was fast.” Not a surprise, as Mama and Harley were mother and daughter in so many ways. “Did you hear that Mama bullied Marc into helping me sort out my little work problem?”
Harley narrowed a no-nonsense gaze. “What I heard was that your work problem wasn’t as little as you said it was. Mama was tripping over herself to tell me what was going on without actually telling me what was going on. That was my first clue I might not have all the information.”
Courtney attempted nonchalance. “I wanted to pick Marc’s brain. I wasn’t sure if I should, given his convalescence, so I went to Mama first.”
Involving Marc even in a peripheral way would get back to Harley, so Courtney had known to have an explanation ready. Of course, her explanation didn’t fit so neatly now that the situation had taken an unexpected turn, and she was here for the explicit purpose of swapping cars to chauffeur Marc.
Harley arched a delicate eyebrow as if silently chiding, Is that really the best you can do?
This day was turning out to be a mixed bag in so many ways. Courtney’s only defense would be an offense, so she launched into one, explaining what she’d told Mama earlier without as many details.
Harley was positively scowling by the time Courtney finished. “There are children missing, an FBI investigation and you’re on administrative leave. Did I get that right?”
Courtney nodded.
“I get why you didn’t involve Nic, but why wouldn’t you be up-front with your brother and me? We have some experience with this sort of thing, you know. Just a little.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Which was a joke, since Harley could wield sarcasm without even opening her mouth. “From where I’m standing, you and my brother have your hands full. Mom and Dad have their hands full with Grandpa, too. I’m trying to help everyone, not give you all more to worry about. Why on earth would I burden you?”
“Because you care about me enough to give me something to do while I’m languishing in this bed going insane.”
“You’re not languishing. You’re baking my new little niece or nephew, keeping the oven all nice and toasty so she or he rises like a perfect little biscuit.”
Harley practically growled, which forced Courtney to bite back a smile. Smiling would have been a mistake right now.
“Harley, there’s a reason my brother isn’t giving you work.” Courtney gave her mouth something less offensive to do than grin. “Or your boss. Or me. My brother is worrying about his family right now, which is exactly what he should be doing. If I had wanted to add more to his plate or yours, I would have told you. I didn’t. I’ve got things under control, so enjoy your vacation. Once our newest Gerard gets here, you’ll be wishing you rested. You’re not as young as you were when you had Toni.”
Harley rested her head against the pillows with a sigh and stared at the ceiling.
Okay, maybe she was languishing.
Courtney was about to concede the point when Harley said, “I could advise you to do the same thing. Why are you taking on the FBI? Go home, take up knitting and let them do their job. But I know you won’t listen, so do one thing for me since wondering and worrying won’t be good for me or the baby. Or your brother for that matter, since he’s the one trying to do everything because I’m down.”
“What?”
Harley sat up again, leveled that bright gaze Courtney’s way. “Be honest with us from now on. I seriously can’t sit here with the seconds ticking by like years and not worry if I think you’re hiding things. I’ll worry even more. So will Mac. We’re in panic mode already.”
“Trust me. I know the feeling.” Courtney sighed. “No worrying about me. I’ve got things under control. Compliments of Mama and the bullying brothers, I’ve got Marc.”
“Bullying brothers. Well said.”
Courtney stretched across the bed. “You probably would have seen it coming. I didn’t.”
“Really? Well, you don’t know Marc that well,” Harley conceded. “He is not in a good place.”
“He’s alive after an accident. That’s a very good place.”
“No argument. But he’s another one who isn’t being honest. You two have that in common.”
“Cut me a break, will you?”
That got a hint of a smile. “You’ve come to the wrong house for breaks. I’m fresh out. No breaks for Marc, either. It was only a matter of time before Mama found some way to light a fire under his ass and get him moving. Sounds like you and your little work problem fits the bill.”
An answer to a prayer. Isn’t that what Mama had said?
Had the prayer been to give Marc something to distract him from his pain and slow recovery?
“I think Mama might get a bit more than she bargained for.” Courtney certainly had. She explained how Marc had invited himself to move in.
“He’s staying with you?”
“No. He has apparently taken a liking to your old place, because he wasn’t there ten minutes before informing me he wouldn’t be leaving. What was I going to say?”
“You’ll nearly be roommates. Good luck with that.”
“Speaking of, would you mind swapping cars with me? There’s not enough legroom in mine. I’m providing car service, too.”
Harley nudged Courtney’s leg with her foot. “The keys are on the ring by the door, but listen to me. Whatever you do, do not let Marc give you a hard time. I’m serious. And do not, under any circumstances, let him into your bedroom.”
Courtney opened her mouth to issue a quick reassurance on that score, but the phone on the bedside table rang out a rock tune.
Harley reached for it. “Do you mind? Mac will freak if I don’t pick up.” She glanced at the display. “Oh, it’s not— To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Courtney rolled over, ready to provide privacy, but Harley shook her head and cradled the phone against her shoulder to broadcast half of the conversation.
“No, where?” she asked. There was a beat of silence while the caller replied. “My old place? Really?”
Marc was on the other end of the line, and Courtney’s reaction came fast. A fluttering heartbeat. A shallow breath.
Harley was watching Courtney so closely that a flush prickled her cheeks and she missed the next exchange. Harley arched an eyebrow, and Courtney forced herself to look casual. She wished she had stepped out of the room.
“Tell you what, Marc,” Harley said. “Why don’t you come over here and stay with me? We can both lie in my bed and keep each other company while we work. I’ve got my big tummy and you’ve got your wrecked leg. We’ll make a great team.”
Even Courtney could hear the disgusted snort on the other end and admired the easy rapport between two people who had known each other forever.
“Play nice with Courtney or you’ll be answering to me,” Harley cautioned before saying, “Thanks. You take care of you, too. Call me if you need help. I’ll be here. In bed. Staring at four walls. Not moving.”
Disconnecting the call, she set the phone back on the table. “Well, you’re right. He’s settling in for the long haul.”
“You warned him to be nice. How much trouble am I in?”
Harley considered her. “Can’t say for sure. Marc’s off his stride since the accident. Any other time I’d tell you to lock your bedroom door and throw away the key so you don’t get your heart broken.”
Right. No problem there. “But now?”
“Now...well, I don’t know. He’s one grumpy bastard. More miserable than I am. That much I can tell you. But he and I aren’t the same as before. He hasn’t forgiven me for marrying your brother.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “Marc hasn’t lived here for a long time. He stays up on what’s going on, but that’s not the same as seeing for himself. He’s really hardheaded.”
“Like the rest of his brothers.”
Harley’s expression was thoughtful. “Except this one has a marshmallow center.”
Which was about the last thing Courtney expected to hear.
CHAPTER SIX
MARC SAT ON the couch in his new living room, grimacing as he grabbed a pant leg to hoist up his leg. The couch was just long enough to stretch out, and almost instantly the ache eased so he could attempt to think clearly.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust particles. And silence. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard so much quiet. Not since he had come home, for sure.
He should close the windows. The need for fresh air was yielding to the need for cool air. Despite all the trees, this was summer in New Orleans. God, he hoped there was central air or he might be regretting his decision. He was already starting to sweat, but he didn’t have enough energy left to get up and deal with the situation.
Instead, he opened the file on the coffee table to start piecing together the mystery. He needed to learn all he could about the missing kid.
Araceli Maria Ruiz-Ortiz had been born in New Orleans. Her parents had been from Colombia. She had one sibling, a brother who was four years younger. The father, Silvio Ruiz, had drowned on the wharves where he worked unloading cargo on the river. Araceli had been seven. The mother, Gracielle Ortiz, had been a seamstress and housewife before the husband’s death, a full-time housekeeper after.
Both parents had been in the country illegally.
“Not good,” Marc said to no one in particular. He could guess the next part of the story before setting down the profiles and starting on the court documents. Sure enough...the mother had been deported during an immigration crackdown when Araceli was eight.
The son had been at work with the mother when she was detained, but Araceli had been in school. For some undocumented reason, she had wound up in the care of a neighbor before being picked up by Family Services.
The mother could have petitioned the court to let Araceli live with the neighbor permanently or she could have arranged for her daughter’s return to Colombia, but the mother hadn’t appeared in court or hired an attorney to appear on her behalf. From there the situation got muddy.
When Courtney had said they didn’t have much substantial evidence to work with, she hadn’t been kidding. Marc got a clear understanding of what had taken place before the hurricane, but nothing could be substantiated after. There were documents with Araceli’s name, but whether they referred to the real Araceli or Jane Doe was anyone’s guess.
Justifiably, the FBI was taking the conservative route with their investigation. They would have been crazy not to go after their strongest lead, and that was Jane Doe. But Marc also understood Courtney’s frustration. She wanted Araceli found and wasn’t about to let rules get in her way.
He leaned back his head and closed his eyes.
The whole situation made his brain throb in time with his leg. The words on the page kept twisting in his head until he was rereading paragraphs and retaining nothing. He needed to take some pills, but that would mean getting up because he’d left his pills in the bedroom with his phone. All his worldly possessions until Courtney returned with his stuff.
The next thing he knew, the sound of knocking awoke him. He stared into the unfamiliar room, and it took a minute to remember where he was. The open windows. The heat. The silky-haired woman staring at him from the open doorway.
His head felt clearer. The aftereffects of last night’s drugs seemed to have worn off. Of course now that his eyes were open, his leg ached.
The never-ending cycle of his messed-up life.
“Why are you knocking? This is your place.”
“But you live here now,” she said. “Good thing the door was u
nlocked, because I gave you my key.”
Easing around, he pushed himself up, feeling weird about being caught sleeping. Because he was supposed to be working? Or did the sight of this woman throw him?
The heat and quiet combined to make the moment surreal, the room bathed in the gray of twilight. A drowsy moment that might have been from a dream since his life of late had been filled with hospital rooms and doctor’s offices and busy physical therapy sessions and the constant traffic in his mother’s house.
And pain. That, too.
But Courtney hadn’t been a part of all that. She was an unfamiliar addition to the equation. Dragging a hand through his hair, he looked away, crushed the thought that not so long ago, he wouldn’t have been surprised about awakening to find a beautiful woman. Beside him. Underneath him. Times had changed.
“My money is on the foster parents,” he said, ending the silence that was leaving him too much time to think.
Courtney glanced at the coffee table. “You went through the file already?”
He nodded, but she didn’t reply. Instead, she maneuvered his bags through the door, then wheeled them to the bedroom.
“I’d offer to help, but by the time I get up...”
“No worries.” She disappeared through the door only a few steps later, long before he would have even been able to get up.
“Bring my laptop out here, will you?” He didn’t need it yet but he would eventually. She’d save him another trip.
“Here you go.” Reappearing, she set the leather case beside the coffee table within reach.
To his surprise, she bypassed the room’s chairs, flipped on a light and plunked down on the floor in front of the coffee table. So close he might have reached out to touch her. If he had wanted to touch her, which he did not.
“So where do we start?” She reassembled the shuffled paperwork into some semblance of order. “Do you have any questions about the file or would you like to work out our business arrangement first?”
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