Close to the Edge

by Kylie Brant

  Once he landed on the upstairs balcony, he tried to find a position where he could peer in through a crack afforded by the sheers at the window. By lying on his back, his head cocked to an uncomfortable angle, he could see the bed. It was empty. But he heard voices inside, and strained to listen. He recognized Jacey’s and struggled to make out the other, deeper voice.

  But in the next moment he heard a low harsh laugh that was all too familiar.

  Vinny Tomsino.

  An icy river coursed through his chest. His mind searched frantically for a way to get Jacey out of there safely. His gaze lingering on the doors, he crouched down and moved to the edge of the balcony. Climbing up on the railing again, he jumped lightly up to catch the edge of the roof.

  Either it was damp, or his palms were sweaty. His grip slipped, and he nearly fell, his legs kicking as he dangled there, his hands grappling for a firmer purchase. Tightening his grasp, he pulled himself upward, inch by excruciating inch, his feet walking up the side of the house until he could pull himself up and over.

  He took a few moments to lie there panting, before digging in his pockets and taking out a handful of coins. He positioned himself directly above the door, and crouched there. Then he slipped the knife from his sheath and held it ready.

  A penny was dropped, but it fell well away from the windows and rolled harmlessly across the balcony and over the edge. Lucky tried another, this time managing to make a clink on the glass panes. He stilled, held his breath, but nothing happened. Again he threw a coin, heard the slight sound it made as it landed.

  There was a noise at the door below. Someone was unlocking it. He drew back a little until he could be sure of who was coming out on the balcony.

  He saw the gun first, followed by an arm encased in a shirtsleeve. He forced himself to wait until he saw the top of Tomsino’s balding pate as he edged warily out to investigate. When the man was directly beneath him, Lucky launched himself through the air.

  Something must have warned the other man. He turned his head, saw the form coming toward him, and began to swing the gun in his direction when Lucky’s weight hit him, knocking Tomsino to the ground.

  He’d brought the knife up as he landed, aiming for the man’s neck, but his own momentum carried him farther, faster, than he’d expected. The two of them went down, weapons flying, as they engaged in a silent deadly battle.

  Lucky landed a kick to the man’s ribs, heard the breath wheeze out of Tomsino, but his struggles didn’t weaken. Tomsino sent a fist to Lucky’s jaw that he only managed to half duck. It caught him in the temple and red dots danced across his vision. He caught the man around the neck and used both thumbs on his Adam’s apple. Done correctly the move could crush a person’s larynx.

  They rolled across the small area, each struggling for the upper hand. Vinny tried to use his extra weight to his advantage, attempting to pin Lucky down before swinging at him. Lucky ducked and the man’s fist crashed into the cement.

  “Don’t move.”

  Both of them froze when they heard the words, saw Tomsino’s gun clutched in Jacey’s steady hands inches away from Tomsino’s temple. “You don’t know how much I want you to give me a reason to use this. I would. Willingly.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Tomsino said venomously.

  Lucky felt an odd sense of pride as he watched Jacey handle the Glock expertly. Tomsino let go of him, he picked himself up, and sent his fist into the man’s nose. “Non, it is you who made the mistake.”

  Detective Grant had been called, the police had come and gone, and it was nearing dawn. Lucky shut the door on the last officer and looked at Jacey. He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. She looked as though one strong breeze would blow her away. He wanted to gather her close, to celebrate their survival in the most primitive, primal way possible.

  He folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching for her. Only a few short days ago he would have had that right. Now she wouldn’t even look at him.

  “Detective Grant said Mark started talkin’ immediately when they took him in, hopin’ to get the charges reduced.” Discussing the case gave him an excuse to linger, when he was certain she wanted him to follow the cops out her door. He couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. Not yet. “Seems like he’s racked up a gamblin’ debt of close to a million dollars.” He couldn’t imagine having that much money, much less tossing it away on the draw of the cards. There was something pretty warped about someone who’d do so.

  “Tomsino kept lettin’ the debt run up to get him well and truly hooked. Then he started strong-armin’ him. Had him doin’ some legal work on the side for him, mostly advice on how to hide his activities. But I’ll bet the whole time he was thinkin’ of a way to get his fingers on Garvey Enterprises. A shippin’ business would be mighty handy for someone with Tomsino’s sidelines.”

  “So how did they? Find out, I mean?” Curiosity might be rousing her from her earlier shock. She was still slumped against the wall, arms wrapped around her waist, but her voice seemed stronger.

  “Garvey said they had someone inside J. Walter’s bank who tipped them off about the money transfer when he hired you. And Jeffrey isn’t working the low-level position in the mail room for no reason.”

  “He intercepted the contract.”

  Lucky almost smiled. She was always quick to put the pieces together. “He opens and scans all of Grandpa’s mail, or at least what he can get his hands on. He turned the information over to Mark, Mark passed it on to Tomsino. Hard to tell who connected the dots to figure out what you were investigatin’.”

  “It was probably a group effort. One of them discovered the information about J. Walter’s health, and that, coupled with the transfer and contract was enough for them to start drawing some conclusions.”

  “The fact that Lianna came to you makes it pretty obvious that she was in on these details, too.”

  “If Jeffrey is aligned against J. Walter with Mark, he’s probably the one who told her. But I doubt she knew anything about Tomsino’s plans. He would never have allowed her to approach you. Most likely she was just tryin’ to obtain information that would get her kid in position to inherit.”

  “Poor J. Walter.” Real pity was evident in her tone. “Family isn’t always a blessing. His is more of a curse.”

  If ever there were an opening, he knew this was it. And it might be the only one he was going to get. Nerves jumped in his belly. “Blood can’t guarantee understanding, or even love. You know that as well as I do.”

  She stiffened, and he could almost see the ice shooting into her veins. With a feeling of despair, he wondered if there was anything he could do, anything he could say to melt it. “I met my maman exactly three times in my life, when she’d get desperate enough to come back home and try to talk my grand-mère into givin’ her money. Even when I was a kid I knew she had less feelin’ for me than a dog did for her whelps. We can’t pick our families. I wonder how well we’d do if we could.”

  Her smile was tight. “I’m guessing I’d be a washout. Because we can pick our friends.” She paused for an emotion-filled moment. “And under the circumstances, I can’t claim to have been too successful.”

  She blinked back tears and a vise squeezed in his chest. He was a fool to stand here, as if he could try and reason away something that couldn’t be forgiven. In the end, he neither gave an excuse nor begged forgiveness. But he could offer what was in his heart. Accept or deny it, she would be given that much choice.

  “You asked me once about the turnin’ point in my life. I couldn’t answer your question then. I still can’t. Life is a series of decisions. Some we make consciously, the others are dictated by some instinct we don’t even understand.” He stopped, realization slamming in to him with the force of a Mack truck.

  Slowly, still finding his way, he continued. “I met with your mother and I took her money.” The fact that he’d eventually returned it didn’t change his original intent. “I went to your office that fi
rst day to put you out of business.” He’d never doubted his success, and his actions had been easy to justify. Her mother’s reasons had been valid. Hers was a dangerous business. She had been out of her league. And she hadn’t belonged there. That was what he’d thought.

  He’d been wrong.

  “There just isn’t always somethin’ you can point to and say, that’s it. That’s where it all changed.” At least there hadn’t been for him. “After you hired me I floated along from one day to the next, from one week to the next, and still I told myself I was goin’ to follow through with it. I had half a dozen different plans for makin’ you miserable, or scared or just broke. And every mornin’ I’d walk in and see your face, and find another reason to wait a bit longer.”

  Her eyes cut to his. And as usual, the hint of vulnerability he saw in them cut him off at the knees. “I can’t say that it was friendship that stopped me, because we weren’t friends. Not yet. And I can’t point to a single moment when I made the decision not to follow through, because there wasn’t one. All I know is one day I accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to. I didn’t decide not to, I just realized I wasn’t.” That distinction was important, although he couldn’t have explained why. “It wasn’t because I could use the position to better myself. Tomsino paid far better for less. Or because I thought I could seduce you into givin’ me more. Your proposition scared me to death.”

  “I know.” Her words were full of tears, tears he knew she’d never shed in front of him. She swallowed hard before going on. “Why did it? You had dozens of women.”

  “I never had anythin’ to lose with any of them. But you and I had grown close in a way I’d never expected.” Had never experienced. It still had the power to stagger him, the relationship that had developed between the ex-debutante and the Cajun with bayou blood beating in his veins. It had been the last thing he’d expected.

  “I have no idea how or why we ever became friends. But when we did, I didn’t want to risk that. Not for anythin’. So I’m not goin’ to stand here and say I wanted to tell you the truth a thousand times.” The words would have been easy, but there wasn’t a shred of honesty in them. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “If I’d had my way, you would never have found out what brought me to you that day. We wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation.”

  Something was curling through the weight of futility Jacey had carried for the last several days. Something that felt suspiciously like hope. “What was it you didn’t want to risk?”

  “You.” He shook his head, as if attempting to clear it. “Us. I was willin’ to settle for less than I wanted, because it was more than I had ever expected.”

  Shock stunned her, robbed her of the careful guard she’d affected. “You…wanted…me?”

  “The first time I saw you I forgot to breathe.” His voice was a murmur, and there was a faraway look to his eyes. “You were wearin’ one of those killer suits with the prissy shirts even then. You were wary of me at first. You had good instincts. And you argued with me over the case file on your desk.”

  Her throat full, she cleared it. “I remember.” Her stomach had hollowed out, as if she was riding a roller coaster, all sharp turns and steep drops.

  His gaze suddenly cleared and was sharp enough to see all the way through her. “A better man would accept how far apart we are, in background, experiences. Your mother is right about that. Me, I’m a selfish sort. I only care ’bout how we are together.”

  He crossed to her then, quick deliberate strides and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her, effectively caging her. “When I’m with you nothin’ else matters. Not where we came from. Not who or what we are. Je t’aime, Jacey. I love you. If you can learn to trust me again, we can be lovers, if that’s what you want.” He leaned in closer, so just a breath of air separated their bodies. “Or if you want to be only friends, that’s how it will be.”

  Emotions zinged through her, bright whirling dervishes that threatened to implode in one brilliant rainbow. An image of her mother flashed into her mind and she recognized the choice she was faced with. She could send Lucky away, and take a step closer to the life Charlotte would choose for her. Or she could stand firm and reach for what she really wanted.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” As she spoke, she smoothed her hands up over his chest, linking them around his neck.

  His smile was slow and devastating, but it was the tinge of relief in it that quieted her jittery nerves once and for all. “I want,” he murmured against her throat, as his mouth brushed over the pulse at its base, “whatever you will give me.”

  She tilted her head back to look into his eyes, all teasing abruptly gone. “I love you, Lucky. I’ll offer you that. And I’ll give you babies if you want them, too, and a life together. As a matter of fact, I’ll give you as much as you’re willing to take.”

  His eyes, those dark, wicked eyes, held promises in their depths. “I’m a very greedy man, cher. I’ll take it all.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Rain drizzled desultorily through the patches of fog, further dampening the spirits of all the mourners crowding the graveyard. White monuments lined the narrow walkways, making it impossible to draw close enough to hear the final prayers before J. Walter Garvey was put to rest in his family vault.

  Jacey was content to linger near the gate at the entrance. The umbrella in Lucky’s hand kept them relatively dry, but still she was reminded of the night she’d agreed to take J. Walter’s case. It was as if the intervening months had brought them full circle.

  She wasn’t certain which of the man’s heirs had made the funeral arrangements, but somehow she thought he would have disapproved of the entire process. He hadn’t been one to enjoy crowds or pageantry, and his funeral had included both. The church had been overflowing, a tribute to his standing in the community, and each of his family members had been present in the processional.

  As if plucking the thought from her head, Lucky murmured, “So just when are Stephen and Mark Garvey’s trials scheduled for? Have you heard?”

  “I think Stephen’s is early next year. Mark’s lawyer will probably file for one continuance after another, until he gets the best deal possible.”

  A couple trying to edge through the crowd jostled them, and Lucky slipped his arm around Jacey’s waist to bring her closer to him. “I don’t think he has much left to offer. He gave up his cousin, Wharton, to Detective Grant almost immediately.”

  She remembered. According to Mark Garvey, Tomsino had been Jeffrey Wharton’s drug connection while he was on campus, and their association had continued when Wharton had returned to New Orleans. The NOPD had already been building a case against the kid when that news had surfaced. It was probably only a matter of time until an arrest warrant was issued for him, as well.

  A feeling of sadness lanced through her. J. Walter had deserved better than that from his family. She’d heard that Rupert was on the verge of losing the small fortune he’d recently invested in his girlfriend’s thoroughbred operation, so apparently the older man’s opinion of his son’s spendthrift ways had been on target.

  “The one I feel sorry for is Amanda.” She leaned her head against Lucky’s black-clad shoulder for a moment. “Nothing in our investigation suggested that she wouldn’t be capable of stepping in and learning the business. But J. Walter wouldn’t even consider her.” Her marital merry-go-round had damned her in the older man’s eyes, perhaps unfairly. His final will wouldn’t have been revealed to the family yet, but Jacey knew he’d left operation of the company to the board of directors.

  “You did the job you were hired for, gatherin’ the information he requested. The final decision was his to make.”

  She knew that, of course. But she doubted she’d ever grow as adept as Lucky at separating her emotions from the outcome of a case.

  Tilting her head up to his, she demanded, “And that’s it? You never have concerns about the way thi
ngs turned out? What about the arrangement you set in place with those two men who split up Tomsino’s operation?”

  He shrugged. “I gave Grant everythin’ I had. It’s the NOPD’s concern, now. At least we can be grateful Tomsino will be put away for a lengthy time.”

  That was true enough. It hadn’t taken the police long to get warrants to search all his businesses, even—thanks to Lucky—the ones not in his name. The records they’d found had provided them with enough damaging evidence to put him away for good. Since he’d already proved he was a flight risk, he was languishing in jail until his trial, despite the protests of his high-priced defense attorney.

  The crowd seemed to be drifting toward them, indicating the ceremony was at an end. They turned and began to make their way out of the cemetery. Lucky handed her the umbrella while he dug into his pants pocket for the keys. On the surface, he did a fair job of blending in with the other dark-garbed mourners, in his black jacket and pants. He was growing increasingly adept at maneuvering his way around in what he referred to as high society. His easy charm almost completely hid the hints of danger acquired from life on mean streets and backwoods bayous. She found herself hoping that he never completely lost those rough edges. They were a part of the man she’d fallen in love with, and as such, precious to her.

  He caught her eye on him then and started to smile, until the expression on her face stopped him. “Regrets?”

  Jacey shook her head, reached for his hand and locked their fingers. The diamond on her finger glittered even in the fog. “Not anymore. Let’s skip the funeral dinner. I’d rather finalize wedding plans.”

  Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to it. “If I’d had my way, it would have happened six months ago.”

  She laughed at his disgruntled tone. “Your grandmère wants a proper Cajun wedding, and the preparations take time.”

  A frown flickered on his brow. “But is that what you want?”