“Abandonment’s not my issue.”
“This much is true.”
She would keep sucking him in until she had her say. He knew it. She knew it. And she was right. He couldn’t even leave until he dealt with his family in the living room.
“Hot then. With Tabasco.”
She smiled, clearly satisfied.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“That would be a first.” Grabbing a ladle from above the baker’s rack, she aimed it at him. “I’ve been telling you to stop worrying about everyone else and get a life for yourself. But you don’t listen. Now a ready-made family drops into your lap. That’s what I meant earlier. This is important.”
“Jeez, Mom. I know it’s important.”
“I don’t think you do. You’re a very lucky man, Nic. Much luckier than you deserve. Your father’s watching out for you from up there.” She pointed the ladle skyward and not, Nic knew, toward the second story of this house.
“He had a wonderful family that he loved more than anything, and he didn’t even get the time to see his kids grow up. He doesn’t want you to let your life pass you by without living it.” She ladled peppers into a bowl then speared a sausage with a knife before popping everything into the microwave. “I know you always felt it was your place to look out for everyone—”
“It was my place.”
“Was, Nic. Was. And your job was helping this family. No differently than it was Marc’s and Anthony’s and everyone else’s. You just had the distinction of being oldest, so you got a head start. It was never your job to replace your father.”
“I know that.” No one could have replaced his dad.
“I don’t think you do, Nic. Everyone’s all grown-up and living their lives. Everyone but you.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and grimaced. “You’ve done right by every one of your brothers. Your sister, too, for as much as she’d let you. You should feel good about that. Not as if this family is your personal cross to bear.”
“I don’t.”
“No? You sure act like it.” She held his gaze steadily, seeing too much with all-seeing, all-knowing mother’s sight.
As much as Nic didn’t want to admit she was right, she was right. He’d been waiting for the day he could stop funneling every spare dime into Vince’s education. That had been his yardstick. His chance to start paying attention to what he wanted. The mayor’s request had delayed his new beginning.
But if that was the case, then did that mean the arrival of a daughter he’d never known about would delay his new beginning even more?
It sure felt that way.
But he couldn’t deal with this today, too, not after the day he’d had, not with all the surprises he’d faced, not with his family, his own family, asleep in the living room.
Since he couldn’t deny her claim, he said, “That it?”
“If you promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said.”
“I promise.”
Her frown suggested she wasn’t hopeful, but, true to her word, she dropped the subject. She cut bread, made a sandwich, handed him the bottle of Tabasco sauce.
“Thank you.” He took the plate. “For dinner and for caring.”
Her smile told him he’d appeased her nurturing Italian mother’s soul. He ate while she went to check on their guests.
Nic was finishing when he sensed a presence. He didn’t need to turn around to know he’d find Megan standing there. And that felt like the most natural thing in the world. He had no idea what that meant. Didn’t want to know because he couldn’t handle anything else tonight. Not when he was so busy noticing the way she looked.
He’d never been with her like this before, still drowsy from sleep. Sleeping together in the true sense of the word hadn’t been part of their repertoire. They’d always stolen their moments together, rushing to get dressed so they wouldn’t be caught. They’d never had the luxury of falling asleep in each other’s arms, of waking up together.
Nic thought he would have liked falling asleep with her. At least with the Megan he’d known long ago.
She wasn’t the same woman now, he reminded himself, forcing his gaze to pick out the differences, an effort at distraction. Her hair was shorter. Not really short, but shorter than she’d worn it all those years ago. That was new.
And the secret she’d kept. That, too.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Have a seat.”
“Actually, I’d like to walk, if that’s okay with you. If I sit down, I’ll fall asleep again. The flight did me in.”
“Yeah, sure.” He wasn’t exactly dressed the part, but he’d make do since he had things to say, too. He needed to get an investigation underway, and as Violet’s legal guardian, he needed Megan’s help to do that.
He didn’t know where his mother had disappeared to, but Violet was still fast asleep on the couch as they passed the family room and exited through the front door into fading daylight.
“Any particular way?” Megan asked.
“Your call.”
She stepped lightly down the porch stairs and headed in the direction of St. Charles Avenue. Nic walked silently beside her, two of her brisk strides making up one of his own. She wasn’t dressed for walking any more than he was, with her long flowy skirt and low heels that didn’t look much more comfortable than his own dress shoes, but she moved so gracefully, clearly happy to be outdoors.
He should open his mouth and get straight to the point, keep things business between them. But Nic found himself unwilling to break the companionable silence, remnants of how easy he’d once found being around this woman.
They’d walked all over this city, absorbed in each other’s company, talking about everything that mattered to two kids trying to figure out life. He was still trying to figure it out. Every time he thought he had a bead, life threw him another curve. He wondered about Megan. Didn’t ask.
He could hear the St. Charles line rattling down the street a few blocks away. The neighborhood he’d grown up in was now known as the Lower Garden District. Much had been parceled off to become the nearby Arts and Warehouse Districts, but to Nic these residential streets were simply home. Some houses were better cared for than others as residents aged or moved away, but all in all, folks around here kept their eyes on each other, helped out each other.
That had been tested in the wake of Katrina, when the hurricane had brought life as they’d all known it to a screeching halt. The media played up the chaos, but for every horror story there’d been an unprinted account of someone rescuing a neighbor’s kid or salvaging a devastated home or caring for stranded animals. People helping each other survive.
Nic knew firsthand because he’d been on those streets.
People from all over the country had poured into New Orleans with the floodwaters. Parades of utility trucks from Florida, Texas, Oklahoma and so many other states had arrived, driven by normal working people with the skills and desire to help. Those convoys resembled krewes on Mardi Gras parade routes, proving to the people around here that they hadn’t been cut off by the storm. Those convoys had brought help and hope.
But about the last thing Nic wanted to think about was hope. Not when he didn’t feel much, didn’t have a clue how he was going to reconcile what he felt for the woman beside him. Megan. He still hadn’t wrapped his brain around the fact that she was back.
“Listen,” he said. “I can’t lend you my cruiser, but Anthony’s going to drop off a car in the morning so you’ll have something to drive while you’re in town. I thought you might have people you want to see.”
“Oh, Nic. That’s so thoughtful, but I’ll rent a car. I don’t want to be any trouble.” She gave a soft laugh. “Well, any more trouble than I’ve already been.”
“It’s not trouble. Anthony keeps loaners at the garage. They’re for customers.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m trying to do the right thing here. But I haven’t exactly had time to figure out what that is yet, so I’m playing thing
s by ear.”
She nodded, smile fading. “I hear that. You’d think I’d be prepared, but I’m afraid I’m not, either. I only know we can’t afford to alienate each other for Violet’s sake.”
He had no clue what to say. What came next? Did he demand visitation? Would he even be able to afford a plane ticket from whatever remote corner of the world they were living in after he paid back child support?
“What about a document of parentage?” he asked. “Are you planning to add me on her birth certificate while you’re here?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I can. Do you want to give some thought to—”
“What’s to think about? She’s my daughter, isn’t she?” Way too much emotion showing. So much more than he wanted to feel.
“Yes, Nic. She’s your daughter. If you’d like proof, we can have blood drawn—”
“Megan, I have eyes in my head.”
She took a deep breath, clearly determined to weather this storm productively. “If you’re worried about financial arrangements, please don’t be. I make a decent living and get a housing allowance. We live pretty simply. We’ve never wanted for anything at all. Not even in the beginning.”
Nic wished he was feeling half as productive. “I want to be a part of my daughter’s life. I expect responsibility to come along with being a father.”
There weren’t too many places for her to go with that, and they lapsed into silence again. It didn’t take long for Nic to decide he didn’t like the silence much either, so he headed to the place he was most comfortable.
Work.
“We need to talk about what happened with Violet last night.”
“Is she in trouble because of that piercing and breaking the curfew?”
Her voice was a whisper in the summer twilight, no longer day, but not yet night. The fading sky layered in the pinks and golds of sunset, the traffic quieting but still there, the sounds of the city.
“I wish it was that simple. The piercing isn’t an issue. The curfew isn’t a big deal either since it’s only a first offense. In any other circumstances her parent would have been called to pick her up.” Parent, singular in this case. “But Violet saw something important.”
“The boy with the Great Eye tattoo.”
Nic nodded. “And she had quite a few people witness that she saw it.”
Megan shook her head as if to clear it. “What does that mean, Nic? Just tell me what’s going on. I need to know.”
He didn’t want to worry her, but he suspected that what was going on inside Megan’s head right now might be harder to handle than the truth. The Megan he’d known hadn’t sharpened her worrying skills into a science. He wondered if single motherhood was to blame.
“You heard Violet’s statement. You heard what she said about the man who was causing trouble in the massage parlor, the man Great Eye guy passed off an envelope.”
Megan nodded.
“I know the man and believe what Violet witnessed was a payoff.”
“Who is he, Nic?”
“I can’t give you specifics, but suffice to say he’s someone high up on the city food chain.”
“Oh, no.”
Nic nodded. “And we got a few too many witnesses who know what Violet saw. If it was a payoff—and I’d bet money it was—we’ve got the man himself, Great Eye guy and the tattoo parlor owner who all saw what went down and know Violet did, too.”
“Oh, please tell me she’s not in any danger.” Not a question, more of a pleading demand.
Nic wished he could oblige, but before he could voice his concerns another thought apparently occurred to her.
“What about the women in the massage parlor?”
“That much is in our favor,” he assured her. “From what I can tell from their statements, they’re only interested in what happened inside their shop.”
“You believe them?”
“I do. They’re worried about protecting their license. They don’t want trouble with the police. If they were scared of this man, they wouldn’t have made the call in the first place.”
Megan nodded, accepting his logic.
“I’ve got to get the investigation going,” he said. “So I can get to the bottom of what’s going on and extricate our daughter. I’ll need your written consent to photograph her.”
“Of course, but why?”
“Like I said, I want her out of the situation, but she’s the only one talking. The tattoo parlor owner denies seeing anything, and I don’t know who Great Eye guy is. I’m going to use Violet’s piercing to put some pressure on the tattoo parlor owner to give a statement. It’s lame, no question, but it’s all I have right now. I don’t want to have to rely on Violet’s account.”
“You are worried about her.” Not exactly an accusation, but he could tell she was trying to pull the pieces together, to decide how worried she should be. He could hear it in the soft intake of breath, see it in her expression as she turned to him. “That’s why you want us at your mother’s.”
“I wouldn’t risk Violet’s safety, Megan. And I don’t think there’s a threat. Yet. But I don’t know all the players, either. The ones I do know about I wouldn’t trust as far as I can throw, so until I figure out what’s going on, I want you someplace where I’ve got trustworthy men keeping their eyes on you. And no, I don’t want to put a teenage witness on the stand. Not in this particular case.”
Dubos had been around a long time. Nic didn’t know who he’d have in his pocket, and it would take time to find out. He wouldn’t place his daughter at risk in the process. No one could officially connect Violet to him yet but, like with Jurado, one look at her and there’d be no missing the fact that she was a DiLeo.
Their connection only complicated things. Nic didn’t doubt for one second that Dubos would try to strong-arm Nic by threatening his daughter. It was exactly the sort of tactic to expect from the man, the kind of rampant corruption Nic was determined to drive out of the department. He wasn’t going to explain these particular details to Megan.
He didn’t have to. She’d grown up here. She knew the history. Public corruption was never pretty. Particularly when it involved violent crimes perpetrated by the guys who were supposed to be upholding the law.
“I read about your appointment,” she said. “You’re working with the new mayor and the government to clean things up.”
Nodding, he told himself that she only wanted to know about him to be practical. With their daughter traveling halfway around the world to introduce herself, Megan would want to know what Violet would find when she got here. What she would find, since this whole situation had blown up in her face.
He wasn’t sure he believed himself.
“This is my fault.” He might as well toss that out. Anything to distract him from thinking about Megan. “Violet wouldn’t have known about that tattoo parlor if she hadn’t followed me there.”
“You didn’t even know Violet existed, let alone stalked you.”
“I had a fourteen-year-old tail.”
“That’s what your deputy chief thought was so funny, wasn’t it?”
Nic scowled, the only answer she was going to get.
“Well, I suppose when you put it like that, I understand how you might feel that way, but don’t take everything on yourself, Nic. Violet’s clever. Trust me. She managed to find you and run off to a different continent under my nose.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“No, but I’m a mother, and one who pays attention.”
He snorted in disgust. Why in hell was Megan reassuring him? To make him feel better? This whole situation was a bad joke. It wasn’t enough that memories from a forgotten past had been ambushing him ever since he’d discovered Violet in his office with her new nose ring and old photograph.
Now he had to contend with Megan trying to rationalize his stupidity. No, he hadn’t had any reason to suspect anyone would be following him and, no, he wasn’t a mind reader. But that did
n’t wipe away his guilt because Violet had come to town to find him and had stepped in quicksand as a result. He’d led her straight to Big Mike’s. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d left her alone on the street when he’d taken off with Anthony. Now the very fact that she was his daughter could make her a target.
“Nic, I know you don’t know our daughter yet, but trust me when I tell you she’s got a mind of her own. She’s wanted a piercing for a while now. Whether or not she followed you, she was going to make it inside a piercing place eventually.”
Our daughter.
There it was. The intimate part of intimate partners.
“Would you have taken that job?” The words were out of his mouth before he could talk himself out of asking. He shouldn’t care. Her answer shouldn’t matter.
But it did.
She didn’t reply right away, just kept walking, gaze fixed ahead.
“I wish I could say yes,” she finally admitted. “But to be honest, I can only say I think so. I’ve been going back and forth for weeks trying to figure out the best thing to do. Like I told you, I decided a long time ago to tell Violet when it became important to her. While she hasn’t actually asked about you, she has been talking about family a lot. The timing seemed to be six of one, half a dozen of another.”
“Why?”
“Well, I was worried about dropping out of nowhere into your life. I’m not sure the reality of the situation could live up to Violet’s expectations. On the other hand, I liked the idea of being in town to parent her through the process. She doesn’t actually do a lot of listening at the moment, but she does talk when something’s on her mind. I try to pay attention so I don’t miss those opportunities.”
Nic didn’t want to understand, but he saw good and bad parents every day in his line of work—often the extremes of good and bad. Megan was trying to be one of the good parents.
“There are so many other things to consider, too.”
“Like what?”
“Like getting myself out of the way mostly. Coming home to New Orleans means dealing with my parents. Violet doesn’t know them well, but she wants to, and I’m not sure what to expect from them. She’s young, Nic. Emotionally, she’s all over the place, and I can’t help thinking that a little more maturity wouldn’t hurt her when she’s dealing with the situation. Then again, I can’t help but think the opportunity to return home wouldn’t have happened unless now was the right time.” She gave a wry smile. “I guess what I’m really trying to say is I would have made the decision when I convinced myself it was the best thing for her.”
Then There Were Three Page 8
