“Casseroles?” Josh screwed up his face dubiously. Finn had to agree that they didn’t look like the casserole type.
“Yup. Also, they’re crashing at my place while they get the business up and running. Oh—and anything but green beans. Can’t stand green bean casserole.”
“You mean, they can’t stand it,” corrected Finn.
“Right. That’s what I meant.” Knight smirked and polished off his beer. “But you know what they aren’t? Not even a little bit?”
They all took in his cocky grin. “What?”
“Gems.”
Finn flipped him off. “Fuck you. I’d rather be called a gem than some of the things Merry Warren has called you.”
Josh backed him up with a “mmmm-hmm,” but Rollo shot him a warning look. Finn ignored it.
“Did you ever catch the guy who shot her with a freaking tranquilizer dart?”
Knight’s face lost all its good humor. “We’re pursuing several leads. I’m keeping Merry in the loop.”
“In the loop? Where is this loop? Her place or yours?”
The deputy pushed off from his chair and rose to his feet. “If you want to get into a fight, sober up and come find me. I don’t fight drunk guys sobbing into their beer because their girl left town.”
Finn got halfway to his feet before Josh yanked him back down again. “Take it easy, Finn.”
“He can’t talk to me like that.”
“Dude. You were sobbing into your beer. You’re drunk. Obviously. And you’re sad because Lisa took off. Right after calling you a gem. So do us a favor and don’t attack a sheriff’s deputy in our favorite bar, from which we would probably get banned. Okay?”
Finn allowed Josh to shove him back into his chair. Rollo relaxed too, though he kept a wary eye on everyone. Of all of them, Rollo was the most fearsome with his fists. But he hated to fight and avoided it at all costs.
“Everything okay here?” Sean Marcus. Great. Just what he needed, for his boss to show up. Evie was with him, holding his hand and looking blissful. They both looked disgustingly happy. Finn ground his teeth.
“Yeah, we’re good. Just discussing the meaning of life. Not sure what it is yet, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with women.” Knight tilted his bottle at them and ambled toward the bar to join his brothers.
Finn looked up at his boss. “What’s up?”
“You look like shit.”
“Really?” Actually, that thought pleased him. He felt like shit. Might as well look the part. “Cool.”
Evie glanced at Sean and shook her head slightly. Some kind of silent communication passed between them.
“What? What are you guys psychically discussing through your telepathic love link?”
Rollo and Josh both cracked up at that phrasing.
Evie lifted her eyebrows. “That’s very descriptive, Finn. It sounds like you know what you’re talking about. Got a little ‘love link’ of your own going on?”
“Don’t poke the bear,” Josh warned her. “He’s had about enough for one night.”
“Sorry. Here’s the thing, Finn. My mother has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and I need someone to drive her. The Dean’s sick, Sean has a meeting with some people coming in from Boise and I have an exhibit opening. Normally I’d ask Lisa, but…” She shrugged. “Anyway, I asked Mom who she’d like to take her to the doctor, and she chose you.”
Finn noticed that she sounded a little surprised by that. “Molly and I have a little thing going on. You didn’t know?”
She unleashed the radiant smile that had made so many Jupiter Point men pine after her, until Sean had claimed her heart. “I guess I didn’t know how serious it was. So can you do it?”
“Unless we get a call, of course.”
“Good man.” Sean squeezed his shoulder, then gave him a hard shake. “Now stop drinking and go home so you’re nice and sober when you transport my mother-in-law.”
“Yes, sir.”
31
The next morning came much too soon. Finn woke up with a pounding headache. A text from Annika made it even worse.
Paparazzi alert.
He groaned and rolled out of bed. Almost landed on the floor, but caught himself just in time. He straightened up and snagged his phone from under the sheets.
What r u talking about?
Gemma doing her thing. Just play along.
Oh, sweet Jesus, this couldn’t possibly be good. Why did Annika and Gemma think they could play games with other people’s lives like this?
With what? He texted back.
Proposal rumors. The nurse is gone and I’m prepared to forgive you. That’s her script. Genius, right?
“Motherfu—” He broke off with a glance at Sparky’s cage, as if the turtle could possibly care what kind of language he used. What was Annika’s real game here? Sure, publicity. But was she trying to maneuver him into an actual proposal?
He dialed her directly. She answered with a sigh. “Don’t get all grouchy-bear about this. You take things so seriously, Finn.”
“What are you up to? Be real for one minute.”
“Don’t be mad at me. Talk to your father.”
“What?”
Oh, now he was definitely wide awake. He headed for the kitchen, the nearest source of water. “What did Stu have to do with this?”
“Would you stop stressing? It’ll be fine. Maybe it’s a sign that it’s meant to be. Maybe we should stop fighting destiny.”
He remembered the last time he’d talked about destiny. He’d been looking at Lisa at the time, and feeling like suddenly life made sense.
But ever since that first text to let him know she’d landed in Houston, Lisa hadn’t called, texted, Skyped, Facebooked, or anything. She’d disappeared in a poof of airplane exhaust.
Maybe this “destiny” idea was pure crap. Along with “love at first sight” and romance in general. Maybe Team Cynic had it right.
Right then, he felt more depressed than he ever had in his life. He hung over the kitchen sink, scooping water into his mouth to get rid of the sour taste of—everything.
“What did my dad have to do with this?” he asked again. “Is this some kind of setup?”
“Like I’ve been saying forever, you really need to make up with him. And that’s all I’m saying. I just wanted to warn you about the paparazzi. Don’t I deserve some props for that? Gemma thought it should be a surprise. So where’s my thanks, huh?”
Finn hung up the phone because he couldn’t handle another moment.
This was why he’d chosen wildfire fighting. Fire, dirt, oxygen, trees, sweat, blood, tears, a mission, a purpose. Distance from crap like this.
Finn dragged a hand through his hair, then hauled himself upright and staggered toward the bathroom. He had some aspirin somewhere. He ran the faucet, splashed water on his face, then popped an aspirin and washed it down.
After a long, steaming shower, his headache subsided. He downed more water and took inventory of his current state. Sober, for sure. Cold, clear and sober. Maybe painfully so.
He grabbed his phone again and called his father. For maybe the first time ever, Stu answered right away. Usually his calls got picked up by his assistant.
“Whatever you’re up to, knock it off. Annika and me are never going to happen.”
“She’s going to be a big star, Finn.” The sound of father’s staccato, rasping voice brought back so many memories. He was always busy, always talking, making deals, moving and grooving, too fast to stop and talk to his lonely son.
“Good for her. But I bet she can make it on her own. How about that? Why does she need all this bullshit?”
“That’s the way it works.”
Finn paused. His father sounded more tired than usual. “Are you okay?”
A brief silence made him tense up. Was something wrong with Stu? Why the hesitation?
“What do you want, Finn? What will it take to make you come back to LA?”
Finn fro
wned at the phone. Yup, something was definitely off here. “The season’s just starting. I’m going to be busy all summer, probably until October. I can visit after that.”
Yeah, that might work. They could talk. Patch things up. Improve their relationship.
“I’m not talking about a visit. I’m talking about moving back.”
Or not.
“Not in the cards, Stu.” Checking the time, he realized he needed to get a move on or he’d be late to pick up Molly. With paparazzi around, he’d have to allow extra time.
He put the phone on speaker so he could dress as he talked. “I like it here. I like being a hotshot, I like my crew.”
He pulled on a black hoodie and work boots—a generic outfit that stood a good chance of fooling the paparazzi— then went to the kitchen to get some coffee started.
The morning light made him think of Lisa and the day after the motorhome fire.
She’d stood right there at the sink with her hair falling down her back. A sharp ache tugged at his heart. When would he ever stop thinking about her?
Outside on the lawn, a crane glided through the air and tilted to a stop next to the koi pond.
“What about your…” Stu practically growled the next words. “Your so-called birth parents? You want to know who they are, don’t you? Will that make you come back?”
The entire world came to a dead stop. Finn froze. He could barely make his mouth form his next words. “Where the fuck are you going with this?”
“You want it. The name. That’s what you want most. You’re willing to bankrupt yourself for it. All that money you spent, but I’ll always have more. You can’t win.”
The truth coalesced in a crystal moment of shock. “Are you saying you know who my parents are? You said you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. But I do now. Just come back and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
He laughed, because it was so surreal. “Stu, that’s nuts. If you can find out, so can I. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Not time. Money.”
Holy shit. All those false leads Ericsson kept sending him. Was that Stu’s doing? “Have you been paying Ericsson behind my back?”
Stu’s silence said it all.
Numbly, Finn watched the crane step into the pond. The water was so still that he could see a perfect reflection of the bird—a dark crane-shaped shadow extending underwater.
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“I have my reasons,” Stu said gruffly. “Come back and I’ll tell you.”
“So you know. You know who I am.”
“I know. But you gotta come back, Finn.”
“Come back,” Finn repeated. He felt numb to the tips of his toes. The need to know his true background had consumed him for the past year and a half. His quest had gotten him nowhere. Thousands of dollars down the drain, and he still knew nothing about his real origins.
But he could know…if he did what Stu wanted.
“Quit firefighting,” his father was saying. “Come back to LA. Be the Finn Abrams everyone knows and loves. Dump Annika if you want. She’s irrelevant. Find someone else. Find a hundred someone elses. I want you back.”
A hundred someone elses.
Thoughts swirled through his brain, a whirlwind of anger and need and confusion. But that one sentence—a hundred someone elses—offered a spark of light for Finn to cling to. There weren’t a hundred someone elses for him. There was only one.
The thought grounded him like an anchor tossed into a seabed. Yes, he wanted to know his true parentage. But was that the most important thing?
At the far end of the lawn, Rollo and Brianna crept across the grass on tiptoe, clearly trying not to disturb the crane. Bri knelt on the wet grass and aimed a camera at the graceful bird, while Rollo kept a steadying hand on her shoulder.
His friends. The people who always had his back. His true family.
“No, Stu. I’m not quitting the fire service. I’m not moving back.”
“Then you’ll never know who you really are.”
“Wrong,” Finn answered sharply. “You’ll never know who I really am. You never have. I’m like a prop to you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Park me with a babysitter, pull me out when you need a family photo op. That’s what it was like. I was there, Stu. I remember.”
“Son—”
“Why is it so important to you that I come back to LA? What difference does it make in your life? Just tell me that.”
Stu muttered a string of curse words and ended the call.
Typical—he always hated being put on the spot. Finn could never nail him down on anything.
“Jesus!” Finn exploded in frustration. What fucked-up game was this? The more he thought back on that insane conversation, the more he felt sure something was wrong with Stu. Aside from the dick move of paying off his detective—by the way, he wanted his money back--his father didn’t have his usual blowtorch energy. But if something was wrong, the stubborn man would never tell him. No, he’d rather dick around with his life and bribe and manipulate him.
Shit. He paced across the living room trying to calm himself. If only Lisa was here. She’d have some kind of logical, down-to-earth take on this. Maybe she’d make one of her wry comments that always made him laugh. Or maybe she’d just sit in his lap and run her hands down his chest and make everything else fade away with her touch.
Or maybe she’d forgotten all about him.
32
After pulling himself together—it took about a gallon of coffee—Finn pulled on a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses and made his way across Rollo’s lawn to his car. If paparazzi were waiting for him, they couldn’t legally come onto Rollo’s property. They’d probably be on the street, at the base of the long, winding driveway that led to the cliff-top house.
At his Tahoe, he hesitated. They probably knew what he drove—they had ways of knowing such things. But they might not recognize Lisa’s Mercedes, and besides, her car had that special seat for Molly.
Decision made, he selected the Mercedes key from the ring and slid into the driver’s seat. Lisa’s scent enveloped him, making his gut go tight. Not only did it smell like her, but she’d left little traces of herself everywhere—a gas receipt on the console, an earring buried in the seat cushions.
He drove down the hill and, sure enough, there they were. Three unfamiliar vehicles were parked on either side of the driveway and four photographers lounged against them, their cameras dangling from their necks.
His trick with the Mercedes didn’t work. As soon as he drove past them, someone shouted, “it’s him!” and everyone raised their cameras and clicked. Then they rushed to jump into their cars and follow him.
What did they think, that he was off to propose to Annika in a baseball cap and a borrowed Mercedes? He couldn’t understand how these photographers thought. It made no sense.
While the paparazzi scrambled to give chase, he stomped on the accelerator and zipped down the road that led into town. He had to lose them before he got to Molly’s. If he couldn’t shake them, he’d call Evie and tell her someone else should step in. It might agitate Molly to see a horde of photographers on their tail.
Luckily, by the time he reached the town limits, he saw no sign of the paparazzi’s vehicles. He stayed off the main streets as he wound his way to the McGraws’. When he reached their house, he parked in the garage, well out of sight. Then he changed from a baseball cap to a knitted beanie. Sometimes a little thing like that could throw off the photogs. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he knocked on the McGraws’ door.
Twenty minutes later, he buckled Molly into the passenger seat of the Mercedes. She gazed around the interior fondly. “I m-miss Lisa.”
“Yeah, I do too.”
“Her m-mother’s anniversary party is today.”
“Really? I bet she’s excited about that.” He started up the car and backed out of the garage. How did Molly know about Lisa’s mother
’s party? Maybe she was calling Molly while blowing him off.
Molly chuckled. “They say s-scratch a cynic and you f-find a romantic.”
“Yeah, well, they also say scratch a rash and it’ll get even worse.” His gloomy response made her laugh even more.
“She c-cares for you, Finn.”
“Yes, she does, and that’s because I’m a gem. Ask anyone.” He flashed her a smile, even though his reference obviously confused her. He turned back to look at the road ahead and slammed on the brakes. He flung an arm across her to keep her in place. “Oh shit.”
The paparazzi vehicles were back, illegally driving two abreast, blocking the street so he’d have to slow down.
He pulled over and parked the Mercedes. The paparazzi stopped too.
“Who-who are those people?” She peered at the two vehicles, which were backing toward them.
“Paparazzi. It’s a long story and completely not worth telling.”
Before they could get a shot of him and Molly, he ripped off his sweater and draped it over her head. She watched him curiously as he adjusted it to make sure she could breathe.
“I don’t want those vultures getting a shot of you. I’m sorry, Molly. I have to deal with this. It’ll just take a few minutes. I’ll be right outside the car. And you might want to cover your ears because there will be profanity.”
She giggled, her white, fluffy halo of hair bobbing up and down. “So ex-exciting!”
“Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. Be right back.” He swung out of the car and stalked toward the photographers. Camera lenses poked through the windows as he approached.
“Listen, guys, you’re obstructing traffic and there’s nothing to see. I have no comment on anything. Can you let us pass now?”
“What about Annika? Are you going to propose?” one of the cameramen shouted from inside the Escalade.
“I said no comment.” A flat ‘no’ might spark more questions and rumors. In his experience, sticking to ‘no comment’ was always the best policy.
Setting Off Sparks (Jupiter Point Book 4) Page 22
