He was halfway out of the building when he remembered what his contact at the bank had faxed him two days ago. Since he’d already abandoned the idea of spending his day off working on his cabin because there was a little girl he needed to get to know, he took the copies of Hal Stuart’s bank statements to his apartment, thinking he’d look them over later.
Curiosity got the better of him, however. When he got to his modest apartment, what started as nothing more than a cursory glance at the statements ended with his coffee table cluttered with calculator and charts.
Though he’d told Eve he’d be there by one, it was three o’clock that afternoon before he pulled up in front of Olivia Stuart’s house.
* * *
Eve stood at the window in Molly’s bedroom, watching Rio’s powerful, long-legged strides carry him up the walk. He’d actually called before showing up this time. Twice. The last time he’d called, apologizing because he was late, he’d added that he had something he wanted to talk to her about. The first time, he’d said only that he wanted to spend a little time with Molly, if Eve didn’t mind.
She figured that what he wanted to talk to her about was their daughter. She also figured she should have appreciated the calls. But all the warning had done was give her a head start on the apprehension knotting her stomach. Every time she saw him, he added a new element of worry to her ever-growing list.
He’ll do anything for a headline. Including seducing you. Can’t you see he’s using you?
She gave her head a shake, willing away the odd little ache that had come with her brother’s words. Hal honestly didn’t know what he was talking about where Rio was concerned. Rio was about as likely to seduce her as he was to dip himself in purple paint and run screaming through Vanderbilt Park. What he wanted from her had nothing to do with sex.
Returning her attention to the canopied bed, she stripped off the bottom sheet and pad, then scooped the rest of the bedding from the floor. Molly knew she wasn’t supposed to bring juice upstairs.
“Mommy’s in a bad mood.”
Eve had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard her not-so-angelic little girl make the pronouncement. Arms laden, she turned sideways so she could watch where she was going, and saw Molly unlock the screen for the big man on the other side.
The screen groaned as Molly pushed it open. “Will you fix my bike? The training wheel came off and Mommy can’t put it back on.”
The perplexed little girl moved back as Rio stepped inside, tipping her head so far back that the end of her long French braid reached the lace on the hem of her purple shorts set.
Standing over her, Rio slipped his sunglasses into the pocket of his white polo shirt and hitched at the knees of his well-worn jeans. He crouched in front of the child, drawing the fabric tight over his thighs.
“Tell me why your mom’s in a bad mood, then we’ll talk about the bike.”
“I dunno why she is.” Molly gave an exaggerated shrug. “She’s just grumpy.”
“Grumpy, huh?”
“Yep.”
“And you have no idea why?”
She held her arms wide and shrugged again. “Maybe she has MPS.”
Rio hesitated. “You mean PMS?”
Since Molly’s back was to her, Eve couldn’t see her daughter’s face. She could see Rio’s, though, along with the glance he shot toward the stairs. Though he saw her, he did nothing to acknowledge her. He simply returned his attention to his chatty little daughter.
Before Molly could share anything else, Eve headed down the steps.
“I don’t have PMS,” she said defensively, exasperation diluting the claim. “Nor am I in a particularly bad mood. I’ll fix your bike when I find something to tighten the nuts with. Did you rinse off Ted and put him on the washer?”
No longer looking quite as innocent as she had a moment ago, Molly turned contrite blue eyes to her mom. “Uh-huh. And the pillow.”
“Good. You can take these into the laundry room, too.”
Eve had reached the bottom of the stairs. Two more steps and she was on the richly patterned entry carpet. So was the armload of pastel pink bedding.
Picking out the top and bottom twin sheets, she loaded Molly up with them and tucked the fabric under her chin so she could see. “Put them on the floor in the laundry room, then come back and get the blanket.”
“Are you going to wash the bedspread, too?”
“No. That goes to the cleaners.”
“Oh.”
Arms full, neck stretched and head high, Molly marched through the foyer, into the kitchen, then made a left toward the laundry room.
Like a monolith rising from the earth, Rio stood to tower beside Eve. “What happened?”
“She and Ted had a tea party. With juice.”
A smile, quick and wholly unexpected, flashed in his dark eyes. Quashing the one that threatened at the corner of his mouth, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and muttered, “I see.”
The look Eve shot him wasn’t nearly as disapproving as it could have been. She wasn’t all that upset. Not with Molly, anyway. Spilled juice was an inconvenience. Not a problem. By the way the smile lingered in his eyes, he seemed to know that.
“I take it she can be a real handful sometimes.”
“She can when she wants to be.”
For one unguarded and too revealing moment, Eve found that shared realization about their daughter far more comfortable than threatening. Maybe it was because she knew he cared about the child. Or maybe parents just had an automatic connection where their children were concerned. On the other hand, she thought, liking the feeling a little too much, it could have simply been because she was tired and her defenses were down.
“How’s Detective Richardson? Is he going to be all right?”
Rio accepted the change of subject for the diversion it was. He knew Eve didn’t know Stone all that well, but he’d bet she’d held her breath right along with the rest of the town while the hostage situation at the bank had played out. What intrigued him, though, was that the concern etched in her delicate features was as genuine as it would have been for a friend.
“He took a bullet in the shoulder. But he’s sure he’ll be fine.”
“That’s what I read.” She nodded toward the coffee table. The newspaper was still spread out on one end, a coloring book on the other. “In your article, I mean. I just wondered if he was hurt worse than you said.”
“He’s okay. Honest.”
Eve lifted her chin, letting herself feel relieved as she hugged her arms to herself. She was glad the detective was okay. She really was, but her relief wasn’t as great as it could have been. The Herald was beginning to look just like the papers in Santa Barbara. Robberies. Domestic violence. Crimes related to a surge in drug traffic. Grand Springs never even had a drug problem until a few years ago. Then there was what had happened to her mother.
Taking a deep breath, she cut off the thought. She spent enough time on this sort of thing at night.
“How’s the sleep situation?”
She couldn’t tell if he was speaking about hers or Molly’s. Not believing that the concern in his expression might actually be for her, she tipped her head toward the child emerging for another load of bedding. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to tell you, right after she takes the rest of this to the laundry room.”
All Molly heard was that she had to make another trip. “Can he help?”
“He wasn’t the one who took the juice upstairs,” Eve pointed out, overriding whatever it was Rio had been about to say. Doing with the blanket what she’d done with the sheets, she loaded Molly up again, turned her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle nudge toward the door. “Wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute and we’ll put the sheets in.”
It looked to Eve as if Rio was suppressing another smile. He must have realized that having Molly do her own sheets was hardly punishment, especially with her mom doing ninety percent of the work. Molly loved to “help.”
“I’ve got some tools in the car. Tell me where her bike is and I’ll fix it while we talk.” The light faded from his eyes, but the concern remained. “I’ve come across something interesting about your brother.”
Chapter Six
Eve thought she’d made her feelings about her brother clear to Rio. Apparently, she hadn’t. She didn’t want to talk about Hal. She especially didn’t want to hear anything bad about him, which could only be what “something interesting” meant. She wasn’t in a position, however, to explain that to Rio at the moment. Molly was tugging on her arm to come get the soap.
One thing at a time, she reminded herself, repeating the phrase like a mantra while she helped Molly stuff sheets into the washing machine and listened to the animated child tell Rio that the catcher had made the monster disappear. Then, not wanting Molly to get grease on herself should she decide to help Rio, Eve left the washer chugging away when Rio produced the wrench he’d retrieved from his big bull-nosed SUV and he and Molly set to work in the driveway.
The task wouldn’t have taken him but a minute, but Rio wanted to make sure both training wheels on the little purple bike were secure. As long as he was at it, he checked the chain and adjusted the seat, patiently explaining to Molly as he put a helmet on her head that the bike was safer to ride if she could reach the pedals. Molly, fascinated, watched and questioned every move he made.
So did Eve. She watched, anyway.
She stood a few feet behind them in the sun-dappled driveway, her arms crossed over her sleeveless blue tank top, while she made herself admit that it hadn’t been the thought of having to degrease flowered denim shorts that had prompted her to follow them out. It wasn’t even the threat he posed to the peace of her little family unit, though that particular feeling was never far away. As she watched Rio’s capable hands, she experienced an unexpected sort of reassurance. The kind that came with knowing someone else worried about her little girl’s safety, too.
“Lookit, Mom. He fixed it!”
Molly didn’t require a reply. With a damp Ted, rescued from the top of the washer and propped in the metal basket, and lavender-and-purple streamers flying from the ends of the handlebars, she took off past Millicent’s redbrick two-story and headed for the corner of the aspen-lined street.
From her spot near the lilac bushes at the edge of the drive, Eve saw Rio slip the wrench into the back pocket of his jeans. He stood for a moment, at an angle to her, his attention on the child now waving back at them. The white of his shirt accentuated the bronze skin of his sinewy arms, the soft cotton stretching across muscular shoulders and a lean, strong back. His dark hair, swept back from his striking, angular features, gleamed like a raven’s wing in the late afternoon sun.
She knew she was staring. But something about his stance made it impossible for her to look away; the way his long legs were planted slightly apart, his head up, meeting the gentle breeze straight on. Watching him, aware of him now in ways she’d once been too naive to appreciate, she could see him as she’d never imagined him before—as the son of people persecuted and proud. Of indomitable spirit. Of nobility in the truest sense of the word. There was a sense of protectiveness about him, and of possession. Those, she’d noticed before. Yet she’d never considered how he had come by them.
She’d once realized how little she’d known about him, but, by then, she’d been left with nothing to do but try to forget him. And she had tried. Desperately. Because of that she had never before considered how truly diverse his worlds must be—the one she knew, and the one from which he’d come. She knew nothing of his struggles.
Those were what she wanted to understand, she realized, watching him give one last glance toward Molly before he turned around. But she didn’t have time to add “for Molly’s sake” before he had walked over to stand beside her.
“That chain could use some oil,” he advised, still following the little girl’s progress down the street. “Is there any in the garage?”
“There’s a can in the garden shed. I’ll get it.”
She started to turn, only to find her progress canceled by Rio’s hand closing around her upper arm. The contact was unexpected. So was the jolt of warmth racing inward from his gentle grip.
There were calluses at the base of his fingers; she felt them when he let his hand slide away. Her glance darted to his. He was a journalist, yet his hand was that of a man well accustomed to physical labor.
“I don’t need it right now.” Rio was aware of the curiosity in her expression, more aware of how soft her skin felt, how small-boned she was. He preferred to ignore both. “I’d rather talk while she’s occupied.”
He saw her nod, then wondered at the way she crossed her arms when she turned back to watch her daughter. Though she managed a smile before she told him that was probably a good idea, since Molly’s attention span could be rather short, her body language was definitely self-protective.
Molly’s was just the opposite. Turning the corner, the child waved madly and started back, legs pumping. Rio wasn’t sure why, but just looking at that kid could make him smile. Which was a little odd, considering that she also scared him half to death.
“How are things with you and Hal?”
“We’re doing all right.” She hesitated, seeming torn between reluctance and interest. “You said you discovered something interesting about him.”
Suspicious would have been a better word, Rio thought, but he didn’t want to say anything that would jeopardize his source. Since he couldn’t tell Eve how he’d obtained the information, he couldn’t mention that he’d researched her brother’s checking account. From the sudden coolness in her voice, it didn’t appear that she’d take too kindly to the information, anyway.
What Rio had actually discovered was that Hal had three accounts, none of which was particularly remarkable until they were put together. In addition to his twice monthly paycheck from the city, several deposits had been made over the past year from various local businesses; specifically, two laundromats, a restaurant, a couple of bars and an auto repair shop. There had also been significant deposits of cash.
Legitimate business earnings, however oddly managed, could be one explanation. “Has he bought into any of the businesses around here?” Rio asked.
“I have no idea. You’ll have to check with him.” The curiosity remained, but the coolness grew. “Why do want to know?”
“Because he seems to be tied in with several local establishments.”
Considering other options, such as the possibility that those businesses could be buying political favors, he overlooked the narrowing of Eve’s eyes.
“What about running for office?” Maybe the guy was collecting contributions already and diverting them to his personal accounts. Tapping campaign funds would be one way to support his life-style. “His seat on the city council isn’t up for two years, but his position as acting mayor is only temporary. Has he said anything about a political campaign?”
“Rio,” she began, her voice as flat as the bug Molly had rolled over in the driveway. “I have no idea what you’re getting at here. I said I’d answer any questions I could to help you with your investigation about Mom. But I’m not going to help you with an article that could hurt my brother.”
“What makes you think I’m working on an article about him?”
“Why else would you be interested in any of this?”
“I’m just trying to figure out where his money’s coming from.”
“That has nothing to do with what I agreed to help you with. If you want to know what Hal’s political plans are, or what he owns or doesn’t own, or whatever it is you’re getting at, you’ll have to ask him.”
Eve had that mother cat look about her; the one that he’d encountered when he’d hung the dream catcher for Molly and which, at the moment, he should have found more annoying than admirable. Something wasn’t right with Hal Stuart, and because his instincts wouldn’t let him drop it, Rio wanted answers. She was
just the wrong person to provide them. As she kept reminding him, Hal was her brother.
More empathetic to her situation than she realized, Rio muttered a terse “I will.” He understood family ties all too well. Though his kin would dispute his own loyalty, he knew a person could still love, defend and respect family without agreeing with their philosophies or actions. Some bonds simply defied logic.
“One more question and I won’t mention him again.”
“Rio…”
“I just want to know if there were any repercussions from my being here the other night.”
The warning in Eve’s eyes turned to hesitation.
“He told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?”
She didn’t need to answer. The way her glance flickered from his said it all.
“You know, Eve, you should never play poker. You’d have to fold after the first hand. How is he with Molly?” he continued before she could chafe at the observation. “Now that he knows she’s mine, does he have a problem with it?”
He could understand that the man would want his sister to stay away from him for professional reasons. Even as fair as Rio tried to be, as a reporter, he was a threat to Hal right now. But this was personal.
Molly wheeled into the driveway, waved and cut an arc toward the corner again. Eve uncrossed her arms long enough to wave back.
“If he does, he didn’t mention it. Molly is still his niece, no matter who her father is. Or what race he is,” she added, slanting him a glance. “I think he’s concerned with other things.”
“I’m not being defensive, Eve. I just want her to be accepted.”
There truly was no defense in his tone. A hint of impatience, maybe. But Eve supposed that was understandable. He was new to the concerns parents face with their offspring, so she could appreciate his need for reassurance. It was just that his concerns were so different from what her own had always been. Her worries had been about making sure Molly got her vitamins and that she was developing at the right pace. That she learned to share with her little friends and that she received enough hugs. But with her glance locked on Rio’s, she realized that her concerns had just expanded to include his. Only it wasn’t her side of the family she was worried about. Because of what his mother had said to her years ago, it was his. And, because of that, though the last thing she needed was something else to worry about, she was now worried about Rio.
Father and Child Reunion Page 10
