Читать книгу Then There Were Three - Jeanie London, Jeanie London - Страница 14

NIC CAME TO A STOP IN the doorway. His life had suddenly become a YouTube video, loading jerkily into his brain, streaming only long enough to almost make sense of what he saw.

Violet. His daughter. She sat in the middle of his family. Anthony and his wife, Tess, each with a twin on their lap. Vince, still in dress pants and shirt, which meant he’d come straight from the hospital.

Damon was in the thick of things as usual, looking like a rebel with his long hair pulled in a ponytail, laughing it up as if he hadn’t kept everyone awake last night with his nonsense. Mom’s stylists were there, and a mechanic from Anthony’s garage, too.

The usual crew.

Marc wasn’t in town right now; his job as a bounty hunter was keeping him on the road more and more lately. A few other familiar faces were missing as well, but then, it was the middle of a workday when normal people worked.

When had this family ever been normal?

Violet had made herself at home, facing everyone with a blinding smile and fast laughter until she looked up and saw Megan.

Nic must have blinked, because the next thing he knew Megan and Violet were standing in the middle of the kitchen.

Somehow he knew Megan was thinking about every horrible thing that might have happened to Violet on a solo trip from South America, every tragedy she’d ever read about in the paper or seen on the news. He didn’t need to see her face to recognize the relief melting her slim body as she wrapped her arms around Violet, a motion as natural as breathing.

He could see Violet, though. She was barely taller than Megan, the perfect height to rest her face on her mother’s shoulder. From where he was standing, she looked like a young girl who had nestled into the safest place in her world.

Every image of a mother and child Nic had ever seen flashed in his head. Memories from his family. Scenes from television. This was what a mother and daughter were supposed to look like. He didn’t see examples often enough in his line of work.

He tried to grasp onto the fact that this was his daughter with the woman he’d once loved so much it had hurt, but Violet raised her head, took a step back and asked, “You’re not going to melt down about my nose, are you?”

“Saving the meltdown for later.” Megan’s return was deadpan. “It’s coming, though. Be forewarned.”

Violet narrowed her gaze in a look that was all surly teen and lightning-fast mood swing. Megan turned enough so he saw her narrow her gaze and scowl right back, giving as good as she got.

Everyone watching the exchange had the sense to keep their mouths shut—even Damon—as Violet flounced to her seat of honor at the head of the table.

A miracle for this family.

Violet motioned Megan forward. “Come on, Mom. Sit down. Do you know everybody? If you don’t, I’ll introduce you.”

She demonstrated such a curious mix of youth and maturity that Nic suspected was a function of her unusual upbringing. And being an only child. He’d heard that made a difference, too.

Damon was the one to rise and drag over a chair, making some crack about butt space for the chief’s baby mama. Nic didn’t get a chance to respond because little Rocco made a play for the serving fork in the lasagna pan and Anthony intercepted with a loud, “I don’t think so, buddy.”

Then the moment passed and, looking somewhat shell-shocked, Megan sat—she didn’t really have a choice—while Nic stood his ground in the doorway, envisioning the headline: Chief of Police Arrested on Alleged Murder Charge.

Only there wouldn’t be anything alleged because he was going to kill Damon one of these days. Guaranteed.

The only thing saving him right now was paralysis from watching Megan and Violet together…a family of two.

Except he was here. Standing in his mother’s kitchen surrounded by his family with his daughter and Megan.

What in hell did he do with this?

Suddenly, his mother appeared beside him. “How are you holding up?”

He shook his head. He didn’t have an answer for that, either. She knew better than anyone how much Violet had sandbagged him. Was probably the only one on the planet who’d been privy to the intensity of his relationship with Megan all those years ago, his confusion over the way she’d dropped out of his life so suddenly and completely.

“How could she not tell me?” That was all he could manage to say.

Glancing at the table, his mother frowned. “I don’t know, Nic, but give it time. This is a big shock for all of you.”

“All of us?”

“Violet told me she found you on her own. Megan had no idea she was coming here.”

That much he already knew. “I’m not interested in how Megan feels right now. And you’re about to be down one son if Damon doesn’t get some manners.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Finding out you’re a father is not your brother’s fault.”

“No, but it is his fault I didn’t get any sleep last night. A few hours and all this might not feel so shitty.”

She arched an eyebrow in a skeptical expression. “You think?”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Nic wondered if there was any possible way he could bow out of here. Claim he had to get back to work, which wouldn’t be a lie. He was the damned police chief and he’d waltzed out of the station and not looked back. Hell, he couldn’t even remember his schedule for the day. Did he have appointments? He always had appointments. And crises. Hadn’t he given up this family drama? He was sure he had.

“Give it some time, Nic,” his mother said. “I know you haven’t asked for my opinion, but if you’ve never listened to anything I said before—which you haven’t—do yourself a favor and listen to me now. What’s happening is important. Violet and Megan are your family whether you were aware or not. You’ll want to make sure you react in ways that count.”

He wanted to argue that Megan wasn’t anything but someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to share some essential facts, but technically, his mother was right.

Whether or not he’d known he’d fathered a child. Whether or not he’d seen Megan yesterday, six months or fifteen years ago, if a DNA test proved he’d fathered Violet, then the law considered him and Megan intimate partners.

He didn’t need a DNA test, or his name on a birth certificate for that matter, to know he’d fathered Violet.

His mother reached up and patted his cheek. “Do you have any idea how long they’re staying?”

“Megan said as long as it takes. Whatever that means. She’s planning to get a hotel—”

“Her parents aren’t in town anymore?”

“She said they are.” He shrugged. “I don’t have a clue what’s up with that. She said they’d get a hotel.”

“No. They’ll stay here.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’ll stay with me.” His mother nodded decidedly. “Bring their stuff upstairs, will you please? Put Violet in Damon and Vince’s old room. Megan in yours.”

Arguing would be a waste of time. Nic might have even considered saving Megan from publicly going head-to-head with his mother had it not been for his concern about Violet. He still had to get her down to the station to give a statement.

He needed Megan to do that.

Violet was a minor. Megan was her legal guardian. Fathers who weren’t on birth certificates had no authority. In this case, though, the only difference that made were the potential ethical questions.

Jurado had taken one look at Violet and known she was a DiLeo. All sorts of questions could arise if and when someone found out Violet belonged to him. The press had been having a field day looking for any damned thing they could find to question his appointment. An illegitimate daughter would sell a lot of papers.

Until Nic got a grip on whatever was going down with the judge, he wasn’t comfortable with Violet staying at some random hotel. Big Mike might not be talking, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have anything to say. Violet had seen a kid passing off an envelope to the judge. Add that envelope to the equation, and Nic had a little mystery on his hands. One that stank of graft. One the U.S. attorney would want to know about.

Judge Hugo Dubos was a remnant from an embarrassing past, an era when public corruption ran as rampant as the criminals on these streets. No one had evidence to convict him of anything, but he was a weak link in the judicial chain, part of an ugly cycle that undermined the police department’s best efforts to clean up this town. Nic wouldn’t be surprised, and didn’t think anyone else would be either, to learn Dubos was on the take.

If they could build a case against him, Nic’s department would be doing its job and a public service. New Orleans would have one less burned-out, corrupt or plain bad public servant who couldn’t easily be removed from the bench.

The NOPD could arrest criminals, but when judges like Hugo Dubos consistently set obscenely low bails, witnesses and victims who’d agreed to cooperate changed their minds. They knew the criminals would end up back on the streets, wanting retribution from the people who’d turned them in. When no one was willing to talk, the district attorney’s office would wind up dropping the charges. It was precisely this sort of thing that had undermined the department with the public for too long.

Megan might be getting worked up about the ring on Violet’s nose, but that was only because she hadn’t heard about the real trouble yet. Their daughter had been picked up by the NOPD and potentially witnessed a crime.

That should go over well. Megan would think she’d reproduced with an idiot. Nic wasn’t sure why he cared. He couldn’t have known he had a daughter when walking out the door last night since he wasn’t a mind reader, but he damn sure should have known he had a tail.

No, until he got a lid on what was going down, Violet—and Megan by default—needed to stay someplace safe. Nic knew who he could trust in the department and who not to turn his back on. The officers he’d assigned to this beat knew his mother’s house and kept their eyes on it. Family was important to the good guys on the payroll.

He doubted Violet had gotten around to filling Megan in on the details of her ride to the station in a cruiser, so he would probably get to break the news. Irony at its finest. He and Megan hadn’t had a thing to do with each other for fifteen years and now all they needed to do was talk.

“Yo, Daddy, you ever joining the party?” Damon’s annoying voice broke into Nic’s thoughts. “Save us from giving your life history to my beautiful niece.”

“Looks like congratulations are in order, big bro,” Vince said. At least Nic had one brother who wasn’t such an asshole.

“What’s with this family? Doesn’t anyone work?” Nic hissed under his breath as he glared at his mother. “You pick today for a freaking family reunion. Thank you.”

“I wanted Violet to feel welcomed, and I thought you could use backup.” His mother headed into the kitchen to run interference, probably scared she would be down more than one son with Nic in his current mood.

“Knock it off, you two,” she admonished. “Nic and Megan haven’t eaten yet. Let me grab some plates.”

Tess started to rise, but his mother motioned her to stay seated. “Thanks but no thanks, honey. You’ve got your hands full. Come on, Violet. It’s time for a tour.”

“You’re Italian.” Anthony winked. “Kitchens are going to be a big part of your life from now on.”

Violet hopped up, so clearly eager.

“Tell me you’ve been raising my niece right.” Damon wrapped an arm around Megan’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “She does know what a cannoli is, right? Aglio Et Olio?”

Megan smiled cordially. “We traveled through Abruzzo on our way to Rome while we were living in Croatia. Does that count?”

“Yeah, and it was so great we went back to hike in Majella on holiday.” Violet stood on tiptoe to grab the good plates that were in a cabinet above his mother’s reach.

“Abruzzo?” Damon asked in mock horror.

“We’re from the wine country in western Sicily,” Anthony explained. “Your grandfather was from Ravenna, but we don’t like to talk about that.”

“Don’t let them worry either of you.” Tess bounced Annabelle on her lap. “The closest I’ve ever been to Italy is a neighborhood in New York, and I make out fine around here.”

“Don’t know how we ever got along without her.” His mother blew a kiss to Tess. “She helps me keep these boys in line.”

“And they are a handful,” Tess added. “Trust me.”

With a laugh, Violet set a plate down in front of Megan, and Damon did the honors of serving. Megan’s eyes widened as he heaped enough pasta on her plate to feed a small country.

“Just a taste, please.”

“When was the last time you ate Mama’s food?” Damon asked.

“Honestly, so long ago I don’t remember.”

Nic remembered, though. The last time he’d brought her to the house for Sunday dinner, a time-honored DiLeo tradition. She’d been quiet even then, overwhelmed by all the noisy chaos of his big family, of the family and friends coming and going at all hours.

Now she didn’t look so much overwhelmed as determined to hold her own in the midst of a lot of strong personalities. A protective mother, maybe. Or unsure of her reception. Nic couldn’t figure it out.

“Trust me then.” Damon drizzled olive oil over the plate. “You’ll want seconds. Parmesan or Romano?”

Nic didn’t hear her reply because Violet appeared and asked politely, “Where would you like to sit?”

He could see the uncertain excitement in her expression, the waiting. His mother was right. He needed to be careful with whatever he said and did right now.

“Next to Anthony, thanks.” Wouldn’t hurt to keep the table between him and Damon in his present frame of mind.

“Budge up,” he told his brother then slid another chair to the crowded table and sat.

Violet set the plate in front of him then returned to artfully arrange a place setting in front of him as if it mattered. She didn’t seem to notice everyone watching her. Megan looked as if she was barely holding it together.

He wasn’t sure why he noticed.

“Thanks. Looks great.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, but he did want her to know he appreciated her effort.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He wanted coffee, but as she’d set a glass in front of him, he said, “Water, please.”

Off she went back to the counter to grab the pitcher, and he half expected someone—Damon most likely—to make a crack about her eagerness to serve him, but even his idiot brother kept his mouth shut this time.

Normally, every damned one of them would have thrown him under the bus, but today they cut him slack, seeming to understand the importance of this first family gathering, the fact that he and Megan—and Violet for that matter—hadn’t figured out how to handle the situation yet.

Or deal with the shock, in his case.

So they kept Violet talking about school and living abroad and her hobbies, getting to know the new family addition, while Megan pushed food around her plate, answering questions whenever they were directed her way. Talk finally circled to how long they intended to stay in New Orleans.

“Megan, you mentioned going to a hotel.” Nic braced himself to meet that blue gaze across the table. “But my mother invited you and Violet to stay here. You good with that?”

Surprise flashed in her eyes, and he knew he was putting her on the spot. But she might as well get used to being part of the family. She said she wanted to work something out, and at the very least that meant they’d be running into each other on important occasions for the rest of their lives.

Graduations. Weddings. Baptisms.

They were Violet’s parents. They were in this together, forever.

He started pushing food around his plate, too.

“That’s very nice of you to offer,” Megan began.

“I insist,” his mother said, going straight for the throat. “I absolutely insist. I’ve got this big empty house and Violet said you’ve been living in South America. Who knows when I’ll see you again?”