“That’s right. Old Lady Walford didn’t appreciate the Norris dame taking off with their grandson and not telling them a thing about it. Mr. Walford seemed worried, but Mrs. Walford, she just seemed maniacally pissed.”
“Melanie Norris says you’ve been hanging around the neighborhood for a while.”
Givens shrugged. “Cush job, one-hundred-fifty bucks a day, and I didn’t have anything pressing to get home to.”
“That’s all there is to it?”
“That’s all there is to it. Walford told me to find her grandson and not to come back without results.”
It seemed to Joe that one phone call from Melanie could’ve made this whole miserable situation go away. On the bright side, it didn’t involve Drake Maxwell, which brought Joe back to one critical question.
“How did you find Melanie Norris?”
“Department of Motor Vehicles.”
Anxiety lessening, Joe leaned back in his chair. “If I drop these charges, I don’t want to see you again, understand?”
“I’ll leave town tonight.”
“I suggest you re-itemize your bill for Mrs. Walford, deduct a couple of days, because I will be contacting her,” Joe said.
Beaten down, the shady P.I. leaned forward. “You can’t blame a guy for making a living. What about my stuff, my car?”
“I’ll see that your effects are returned to you.” Joe stood. “As for your car, it’s in Impound. Call a cab.”
“Impound will take my entire fee. Give me a break.”
“I gave you a break, Stanley. A big one. Sit tight. You still have paperwork to fill out.” At the doorway, Joe turned. “I meant what I said. Stay out of my neighborhood and away from the Norris’s.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“Why wouldn’t you tell them, Mel? These people are concerned about their grandson.”
Speechless, Mel stared at Joe as he recounted the events that had transpired in the last two hours. Maxwell hadn’t been outside her house; her watcher had been a private detective hired by Luke’s maternal grandmother, Janice Walford.
Mel held out her hands. “I know this sounds bad, but with everything going on... Carl’s death, Maxwell, the move, getting Luke enrolled in school, finding a job... these people simply slipped my mind. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call them and set things right.”
Joe reached for her jacket looped over the back of his chair. He held it out to her. “I’d do it first thing.”
Her stomach in knots, she lifted her gaze, hoping to see a glimmer of understanding on his face. Instead, fatigue outlined his features, made only worse by the bandage covering the gash he’d sustained because of her.
“Peter and Janice Walford may be Luke’s grandparents, but they’ve hardly been a part of his life. Throughout the years, their visits became less and less frequent. Oh, they sent Luke token birthday or Christmas presents, but it isn’t like he really knows them.
“When Carl got sick, I called them to let them know what was happening. Not one response, no flowers at the funeral, not even a card. So here’s a question for you. Why would I think to call them when I’m running for my life?”
Joe’s expression morphed into something less critical. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“You’re angry.”
He shook his head. “I’m tired. More than that, I’m relieved you’re okay.”
Holding her coat to her chest like a security blanket, Mel stepped toward him. “And I’m worried about you. Thanks to me, you now have a scar on your arm and a bump on your head. What’s next? You only have so many body parts.”
Joe relieved her by taking her into his arms. “Good thing my uninjured body parts like being around you. You can make it up to me by finishing what we never got started tonight. Let’s go home.”
He opened the door to a janitor pushing a cleaning cart, making his rounds. He nodded to the man, switched off the lights to his office, waited for her to exit, then closed the door behind them.
Her mind garbled, Melanie focused on the Walfords and what she would say to them in the morning. Even so, as Joe took her elbow, she found his warm presence comforting. Near midnight, they made their way through the bright lobby to the outside and started toward the dimly lit parking lot.
A police cruiser eased onto Rio Grande, followed by a yellow taxi, and that’s when the lone man leaning against the red brick building stepped forward. He crushed out a cigarette and started for the cab, pausing when he saw them walking. “Lieutenant. Hold up.”
Joe tightened his grip around her bicep and pulled her close. Instinctively, Mel knew this was the man who’d been watching her.
Joe stepped in front of her, nearly blocking her view. “I warned you, Givens.”
The man kept his arms up as if in surrender. In his left hand, however, he held a folded paper. “I mean her no harm.”
“Back off.” Joe drew his jacket aside, displaying his weapon.
Mel breathed in fear. “No, Joe,” she whispered.
Holding his hands out where Joe could see them, the stranger said, “I’m unarmed, Lieutenant. I’ll keep my word as soon as I finish the job.”
“Your job is finished,” Joe shot back.
The rest of the events happened in slow motion. The man called Givens sidestepped Joe and thrust the document toward her. Joe shoved the man, he landed on his butt, but not before Mel found the papers in her hands.
Scrambling to his feet, Givens backed away and retreated toward the waiting cab. Then in an authoritative timber at odds to his cowardly behavior and sloppy looks, he raised his voice. “Melanie Norris. You’ve been served.”
Son of a bitch. Joe parked Melanie’s car in her driveway and dared a glance at a woman so despondent that despite his head injury, he’d elected to drive.
Switching off the ignition, he asked, “Are you all right?”
Wiping at tears, she scoffed. “What do you think? No, I’m not all right. Custody? Joe, these people don’t even know Luke.” She buried her face in her hands.
Joe clenched his jaw. He’d seen Mel upset, angry and tormented, and valiantly she’d fought back tears. But this? The thought she might lose her son had opened the floodgates.
And yeah, the Walfords might not know Luke, but how much of that was their fault, and how much was because Mel hadn’t made them feel welcome? Their daughter was gone, their son-in-law remarried, now dead. In law enforcement, a cop learned fast that when it came to family dynamics, there were always two sides to every story.
Still, to see Melanie devastated was more than he could handle.
“You want me to wake Luke?” he asked. “It’s pretty late.”
She lowered her head and chipped at her fingernail polish. “No, let him sleep.”
The air Joe inhaled did nothing to clear the weight from his chest. He had to ask. “Do the Walfords know about your past?”
“I’m certain Carl never told them, but that doesn’t mean no one else did.”
“Did you adopt Luke after Abby died?”
Turning from the passenger seat, she faced him fully. “Yes, Joe, I did. I did something right for a change. Luke Norris is my son.”
“Of that I had no doubt.” Joe placed a hand over her heart. “In here. But legally, I had to make certain.”
“Surely, Luke has a say in this, doesn’t he? He’s already been through so much.”
In that moment, her turmoil must’ve surmounted her pride. She reached for him and Joe thanked his badge he was there. Running his fingers through her hair, he held her while she cried. Finally, when she seemed to have expended every possible tear, he broached the subject he’d been considering. “I know a good lawyer, if you think it will help.”
She shuffled back to her side of the car. Leaning back against the headrest, she
wiped her damp eyes. “I see no alternative. I absolutely will fight this.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll give her a call.” Drawing Melanie’s hand to his lips, he kissed it even as she attempted to smile. “There’s nothing you can do until morning. Get some rest. We’ll make sense of this mess tomorrow.”
Luke jammed the key into the lock of his house and raced into the kitchen. Inhaling the familiar smell of home, he had twenty minutes to get ready for school. Matt’s dad was driving, and though Matt couldn’t care less if he went to school ever, Luke liked to get there early.
He strode to the cabinet by the sink, grabbed his favorite glass his mom called a pitcher and made his standard breakfast of a bagel and chocolate milk. After he’d finally nodded off, sleep had worked wonders, and he felt much better than he had last night. Maybe his mom was telling the truth when she said there was nothing going on between her and the cop next door. Luke had woken up to learn that she’d stayed at their house last night.
The cell phone in his pocket vibrated and his stomach flip-flopped. He pulled it out, hoping the caller was from one person in particular. The text read Meet me for lunch in the commons. Luv, Jen. Heat fanned his face and he rolled his eyes.
Love? Yeah, right. Luke had no illusions that the hottest senior girl in school loved a goofy-looking sophomore like him.
Still, being seen with Jennifer Franchini was pretty sick.
He’d been getting dirty looks from some of the older guys. Not that any of them had the balls to say anything. Luke was a head taller than most, on varsity, and now the team had his back. Even so, he’d never start anything, preferring to handle it on the court. But if any of them made him their problem, he’d say, “Bring it on.”
His mom would freak if she knew he’d been locking lips with a girl almost eighteen, but, hey, what his mom didn’t know...
Luke downed his milk and headed for the stairs. As much as he’d fought this move, he had to admit it had turned out okay. Reaching the top of the stairway, he peered into his mom’s bedroom. The bathroom door was closed and the shower was running.
He shook his head. Lt. Crandall had said to let her sleep; she’d had a late night, which only proved the cop didn’t know her at all. She sometimes worked late on her flowers, then got up with the crazy chickens.
He put on his favorite baggy jeans, a Miami Heat sweatshirt, inspected his overly long face and grimaced. Jen said he was cute, but he thought he resembled a blond version of Frankenstein.
Last night, his mom had called him the image of his dad. Remembering the big man, he’d loved and adored, Luke found it difficult to swallow. He took a final glance in the mirror. Maybe his wasn’t a bad face after all.
He’d already started working on his mom to buy him a car. Bumming rides everywhere or having parents on scene was getting lame.
Today, maybe he’d buy Jen lunch, pay her back for all the gas she’d used. Trouble was, he’d blown all his money last night paying for both of them to get into the game at Mitchell.
Leaving his bedroom, he eyed his mom’s purse on the nightstand and willed her to hurry up with her shower. What was she doing in there? Building an ark? He glanced at his watch.
Out of time, he entered her bedroom, rummaged through her billfold and found a measly three dollars in change.
He wanted to impress Jen, not show her he was a total loser.
His gaze fell to the dresser. His mom sometimes stashed money inside, still he’d never taken any without telling her. But this was an emergency. Okay, not an emergency-emergency. Technically, he’d call Jen a semi-emergency.
He opened the drawer and breathed in the smell of cedar. Among the junk collection he found what he needed, an envelope containing sixty dollars. Sweet. He removed a twenty then to curb his guilt, scribbled an IOU.
Hey, it wasn’t stealing if you left a note.
He moved to shut the drawer when a folded paper caught his eye, more precisely a word. Summons.
Twisting his mouth into a frown, he’d watched enough Law and Order to know a summons meant trouble. Weird. His mom wasn’t the type to keep secrets.
Lt. Crandall’s horn sounded, and Luke pulled back an unsteady hand. But he wasn’t leaving the house without knowing if she was okay. He picked up the document and read the caption. State of Missouri vs. Melanie Norris. Request for Child Custody Evaluation. Petition for Legal Guardianship.
Missouri? Luke scanned the paper until he discovered a name that he knew. Walford. His real mom’s parents. His heart began a war dance in his chest. What the...? His grandparents wanted him to live with them? What did they think he was, some kind of baby?
The shower turned off. Lt. Crandall’s horn blared longer, more urgent this time.
With sweaty hands, Luke tossed the summons back into the drawer then reconsidered. Stuffing the additional forty dollars in his back pocket, he wadded up the IOU and tossed his attempt at honesty into the wastebasket beside the dresser. He ground his teeth, while confusion muddled his thinking. Screw you, Mom. You should have told me. Move for a second time? No freaking way. He’d take off before he’d let anyone uproot him again.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Chico, wake up.”
Through a haze and someone’s shaking, fifteen years of prison life slammed into Drake’s dreams. He grabbed his assailant and flung the bastard away from him and onto his back.
An instant later, as his eyes adjusted, he remembered where he was and saw that lying on the mattress beneath him was Maria. Ramirez’s younger sister stared up at him, startled and surprised. Drake, however, studied her as if she were a cross between an amoeba and a succulent meal. Then, remembering she paid the mortgage on the place and he was hiding out in her basement, he reluctantly rolled off of her. His mouth dryer than a piece of cotton, his head screaming from too many shots of tequila, he asked, “What are you doing down here?”
Her eyes flashed with something that looked like anger. Slowly, she lifted herself up on her elbows in the cold, unfinished basement. Behind her brother’s back they’d been giving each other come-do-me-looks for days. If she was afraid of him, she sure as hell didn’t show it. “I came to say goodbye.”
It was then that Drake saw the uniform, a blue skirt, white blouse and an emblem with a pair of wings on her left breast.
He zoned in on that breast and his mouth watered. “Goodbye?”
“Yes, I’m leaving in a couple of hours. I fly International and my hub’s in Dallas. I need to be back in Texas this afternoon.”
“But you have a house here?”
“I like it here. It’s home.” Her dark eyes met his in a challenge.
He liked the way the bitch stood up to him. Her job gave her independence. It also explained why she was always gone.
“You’ve been staring at me,” she said, making no effort to rise from his makeshift bed.
“You’ve been staring back,” he replied.
“Touché, chico.”
Narrowing his gaze, he asked, “Why do you call me chico?”
“You called me a chick the other day. If I’m a chica then you’re a chico.”
Her perfume was driving him crazy. Her long dark hair was pulled up in some exotic style. She looked like an Egyptian queen, with black eyes, bronze satin skin and lips so soft they would take nothing to devour.
That didn’t mean he was willing to wreck a good deal or risk Ramirez’s blade in the process. So even though she’d approached him, he held back. “Where’s your brother?”
She arched a brow. “You drank him under the table, remember? Denny’s passed out.”
Something like electricity jolted through Drake, a conduit transmitting her “I’m-available” signals. He reached for the first button of her blouse. “Is that right?” He’d been dreaming of taking her for days. It had almost been
too easy.
When she simply held his gaze, he moved to the next button then the next, freeing her shirt and exposing the next-to-nothing bra underneath.
Close to exploding, he bent to explore the satin tops of her breasts. She arched against him as his hand drifted to the hem of her skirt and he tugged upward.
Shit. The hooker he’d taken a few weeks ago hadn’t prepared him near enough for this woman. He was about to come. His fingers slid into her heat and in between gasps she said, “If Denny finds you doing this, he’ll cut out your liver.”
Drake lifted his mouth from her breast and saw the taunt on her lips, the laughter in her eyes. A siren. His kind of woman. He made sure it hurt her as his fingers went deeper. “You gonna tell him?”
A hiss escaped her lips as she shifted. She panted, then set her jaw. “That depends on what kind of lover you make. Is that the best you can do? I’m not into timid men.”
In that case. He treated her breasts to his brutal attention then buried his mouth against hers.
Running her hands through his hair and digging her long claws into his neck, she returned his kiss. Finally, as much as he liked the rough foreplay, he was ready for action. “Take off your clothes.”
For the first time she paused, seeming to consider what she was doing.
“Take off your clothes or I’ll rip them off you.” Drake grabbed her skirt, bunched the fabric and prepared to shred. This wasn’t like fifteen years before when he’d picked up a hysterical Melanie Daniels and he’d been a sap weighed down by a conscience. Not so today. Women didn’t tell him no, not that he’d ever had to ask. Brother or not, Maria had come on to him, and he’d wanted inside her.
The exercise down memory lane turned out to be moot. Maria rose from the mattress and looked him up and down. Then performing a rapid strip tease, she stood before him naked, revealing a flat stomach, small hips and round perfect tits.
Drake shucked off his shorts. He was rock hard and waiting as her gaze raked over his sculpted body. Her eyes widened and she gave him a smile of approval. “Very nice, chico.”
Donnell Ann Bell Page 18
