Asking for Trouble (13 page)

“Yes.” The venom in his voice made her cringe. “Yes, they tested my blood.”

“Drew—”

“Accident destroyed my pump.” He jerked the hospital gown free and exposed the tube dangling from his side, but kept his face turned away.

“I don't care about your pump.”

“Since when?”

“I—” Morgan's mind went blank.

“Since when do you care about anything other than this fucking disease?” When he did look at her, she saw what she described as anguish on his features.

“Drew—” She moved closer but he swung his arms wild and sent the water pitcher and vomit tray flying against the wall.

“I'm not this damned disease. Why don't you ever see me?” Tears pooled in his eyes and she saw him struggle to keep them from falling. “Why don't you see
me
?”

Just as fast, the stoic taciturn Drew returned. His face closed as if he'd slammed a door. He swiped at his face, as if the thought of tears was abhorrent. “Just go away.”

The three words struck like arrows in her heart. The same words she'd said to Gage moments ago. Except now she understood what Gage had been trying to tell her. Now wasn't the time to chastise Drew for his reckless behavior or even rail at him for being an irresponsible teenager.

What he needed, what he'd always needed, was for someone to listen to him.

She set her purse on the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. “Tell me what happened.” His clenched fists relaxed, his gaze darted to her and away, as if afraid to believe his words had had an impact. “I promise, I won't be mad,” she said. “Just tell me what happened.” And because she needed to, she brushed the hair out of his eyes.

He shrugged, but avoided her probing gaze. “We were just going to go for a ride in some guy's car. Jonesy had the keys. But then Ruffo brought out this bag with beers and I wanted to get out. I know smoking is bad enough—no way am I going to mess with booze. You know that.”

“I know.” Morgan nodded.

“Jonesy reached for the bag, took his eyes off the road and slammed the car into a telephone pole. I was pinned, felt my pump break. There was beer everywhere. I couldn't get free from the seat belt—”

“Thank you for wearing one,” Morgan interrupted.

“Yeah. Like I don't hear about it every time we get into the car. Next thing I know, I heard sirens and Ruffo and Jonesy were gone, and then I woke up here.” Another shrug, only this one seemed less forced, as if he didn't feel quite so heavy. “They're going to use this to take me away from you guys, aren't they? That CPS chick.”

“If that CPS
woman
is Deanna Crawford, she's here.”

Morgan spun on the thin squeaky mattress as Gage came in. Regret washed over her as she thought about what she'd said to him, how she'd treated him, and yet here he was.

What was wrong with the man? Didn't he see she didn't deserve his loyalty? His concern? And yet, seeing him made her feel more in control. More importantly, he'd just proven how much he cared.

“They aren't going to take you from us. Not if we can help it,” Morgan told Drew as she covered his hand with hers. “I need to go talk to her and your doctor, okay?”

“Don't move,” Gage warned Drew, but without the heat she'd have expected. Drew must have sensed the shift as well because he frowned.

“Man, where would I go? Do you know what they stuck up my—”

“I have a pretty good idea.” Gage nodded seriously. “Angela and Nico are waiting.”

Morgan stood, then planted her hands on either side of Drew's hips and leaned over. “We both have some making up to do. We can both do better with each other. But you need to make up your mind, Drew. Do you want to stay with us, yes or no? No.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth. “No. You need to think about this. I'll promise to do better. When you're ready, you tell me. And Drew?” She waited until he met her gaze. “I do see you. Maybe I didn't before, but I do now.”

Morgan followed Gage to where Nico and Angela waited at the nurse's station. A petite, dark-haired woman with a tablet computer snug under her arm was nearby.

Even from a distance, Morgan knew the conversation wasn't going well.

“Tonight's events leave me no choice, Mr. Fiorelli. I've redrafted my letter of protest on Drew's placement and plan to file it with the juvenile court in the morning.”

Whether it was the woman's choice of words, her superior tone, or the disdain with which she looked at Morgan as she approached, had Gage not draped an arm over her shoulders, Morgan might have pounced on the Child Protective Services chick like a puma on a rabbit.

“I was just reminding Ms. Crawford that Drew's situation is a sensitive and unique one,” Angela said, the tension and worry beginning to show on her strained face. She clung to Nico with white knuckles.

“Every case is sensitive,” Ms. Crawford dismissed Angela's argument. “Like the other cases in your house. I don't believe Drew is an appropriate influence on them—”

“Children,” Morgan cut in. “They're children, not cases.” A lesson learned she wasn't about to forget.

“With the other
children
in residence, the attention Drew needs isn't available,” Ms. Crawford said.

“And another foster home . . . What would this be, his sixteenth in seven years?” Morgan asked with an arched brow. “Would another foster home be able to give him what you think is lacking?”

“Of course, nothing can be guaranteed,” Ms. Crawford admitted.

“Drew's home is with us. We're his family,” Nico said, and Morgan heard in his voice how he'd taken this attack on his ability to care for his kids personally.

“Clearly removing Drew from the house at this point is going to do more harm than good,” Gage said.

“Who are you?” Ms. Crawford angled her pointed nose in Gage's direction.

“Inspector Gage Juliano from the District Attorney's office. I'm also a friend of the family.”

“Well, Inspector,” Ms. Crawford said. “I'm sure as a law enforcement representative you'll agree that Drew's reckless behavior sets a poor example to the other children in the house. For him to disregard his condition and be drinking to the point of intoxication—”

“Drew wasn't drinking,” Morgan snapped, and while she understood Gage's attempt to silence her with a squeeze of his hand, on this topic she refused to be silent. “He wouldn't. He was trying to get away from the boys who were.”

“A teenage boy out without permission, an open six-pack of beer found in the car, and you expect me to believe—”

“They ran his blood, right? Those results should be in by now.” Gage signaled to one of the nurses, took out his ID. “Can I speak with Drew Palmer's doctor or nurse when they have a moment? Tell them we'd like to see his latest blood work results.”

The nurse scampered away as Gage drew Morgan tighter into his side.

“You have read Drew's file, right?” Morgan felt like snapping her fingers in front of Ms. Crawford's face to regain her attention. “Because if you have, then you know his parents were killed by a drunk driver when he was seven. He wouldn't drink, and if he did, he wouldn't drive or be in a car with someone who did. Maybe if you spoke to him instead of relying on files and paperwork, you might see Drew is where he needs to be.”

“Morgan,” Gage whispered over her head. “Enough. Let's see the test results.”

“She wants to take my kid.” Morgan couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice. “Our kid. He belongs with us. So he's stupid at times. Who isn't? He's a teenage boy, for crying out loud. They're all stupid.” As Gage had pointed out.

“Until I see proof that Drew wasn't drinking—” Ms. Crawford said.

“Because his word isn't good enough,” Morgan spat.

“Okay, give us a moment, would you, Ms. Crawford?” Gage pulled Morgan into a faraway corner and leaned over her. “Antagonizing her isn't going to help your case. Drew made the choice to go with the boys. He has a history of delinquency. You have a house filled with impressionable kids. This isn't going to be a cake-walk. He's not a saint, so stop overcompensating for your mistakes with him and work with her. You think she wants to go to all the trouble of moving him?”

Morgan snapped her mouth shut, glared at him. Did he always have to be so damned right? “He goes to another foster home, he'll be lost, Gage.” Morgan hugged her arms around herself and squeezed. “It'll be my fault. I failed him. I didn't see him through all the shit I pile on myself, and because of that his life might never be what it could be.”

Dammit, she hated the tears and she would not let them fall. As long as she could keep them inside, she'd be okay. As long as she kept control.

“Of all the—” Gage took a deep breath. “Why is everything that goes wrong your fault?”

Because as far as Morgan could tell, everything was her fault. Everything she'd tried to do to protect her kids, to protect her work, was falling apart. If only she could tell him the truth, tell anyone the truth, then maybe she could put a stop to the hemorrhaging that had become her life.

“You just can't help but take the entire world on your shoulders, can you?” Gage asked. “Okay, we tried this your way. Let's try mine. But you keep these”—he tapped a finger against her lips—“shut.”

“But—”

“Shut it, Morgan.” Gage's warning glare stole the words from her lips as they returned to the Fiorellis and the social worker. “Ms. Crawford, the crux of your argument is that you think Drew needs more supervision, more responsibility.”

“I—yes. He needs something to keep him occupied. Obviously that isn't an option while he's residing at this residence, and with summer coming there's no telling what trouble he might get into.”

“Then we don't have a problem. As soon as his doctors give their approval, Drew will start his new job as a stock clerk at the J & J Market a few blocks from the Fiorelli house. Part-time, of course, to start with, and then after classes during the school year. He'll be under the direct supervision of the owner, Daniel Juliano, my father.”

Nico, Morgan, and Angela all stared at him, but Gage continued as if this revelation was common knowledge. “And just in case you're worried about his weekends, he'll be getting a crash course in home repair and garden maintenance from either Morgan or myself. Plenty to do around the Fiorellis', and if not there, my father can use some help and my yard has seen better days. I can assure you, from tonight on, Drew will not be wondering what to do with his free time because he won't have any.”

Doubt still hovered on Ms. Crawford's face. “You're willing to put yourself, your reputation, your family's reputation on the record as assurance? You could be called to testify on any future hearings regarding the boy's placement. You'd also be subject to interviews and visits to assure compliance.”

“As I'm all about rules and regulations, I understand the commitment I'm making,” Gage said, but Morgan heard an undertone of annoyance in his voice.

“Inspector Juliano?” A young man in a white coat approached them. His wire-rim glasses and pale complexion made Morgan wonder if he'd just walked out of the frat house and was playing doctor. “I was told you were interested in Drew's initial blood results? I'm afraid I can't release them without his legal—”

“That would be us,” Angela jumped in, silently daring Ms. Crawford to state otherwise. “Can you just tell us what his blood alcohol level was?”

The doctor blinked as if he misheard. “Zero. He hadn't been drinking. The trauma of the accident sent his blood sugar sky high, so we need to admit him so we can repair or replace his insulin pump, but other than that, I'd say he's very lucky.”

Morgan didn't realize until the balloon of pressure burst in her chest how important that bit of information had been.

“Thanks, Doctor.” Gage shook his hand. “Appreciate the information.”

Without saying another word, Gage returned his attention to Ms. Crawford, who cleared her throat, made some notes on her tablet computer.

“Given the developments, I suppose I can amend my protest regarding the child's—”

“Drew's,” Gage said.

“Drew's placement. But we'll be following up, Inspector. With all of you.”

“Great. Give Kevin my best. Tell him he still owes me fifty from the Dodgers game.”

“Kevin?” Morgan asked as Ms. Crawford left looking as if a bomb went off in her face.

“Kevin McMahon.” Gage grinned. “Her boss at CPS. We went to high school together.”

Nico laughed and hugged Angela. “Gage, I don't know if we could have come out of that without your help.”

“Do you want to tell Drew he's coming home with us or should we?” Angela asked Morgan.

“Go ahead,” Morgan squeaked, her heart so full she couldn't breathe.

The only thing she could think to do was turn into Gage, link her arms around his neck, and hold on to him as if only he could anchor her to the ground.

Feeling his arms around her, letting the heat of him, the strength of him seep into her in ways she hadn't thought possible, made her feel safe yet utterly terrified.

“Just one downside that I can see,” Gage said, lifting her off her feet. “Afraid you aren't getting rid of me just yet.” He pulled his chin in, dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Morgan attempted a smile, and when she failed, hid her face in his neck. Now what was she going to do?

“Is Drew okay?” Gina asked once Gage and Morgan returned to the Fiorelli house.

“He will be.” To Gage it looked as if the energy it took for Morgan to smile drained her power reserves. “Thank you so much for coming over to help Sheila with the kids. How are they?”

“Kelley and Brandon are watching a movie with Mom and Sheila. I stayed with Lydia until she fell asleep. She was telling me about her new protocol. I felt like I was an extra on
House
.”

Gage leaned around the corner. Sure enough, Sheila Tremayne and his mother were cozied up on the couch, heads together as Kelley and Brandon laughed along to the closing credits of
A Bug's Life
.

“Lydia is not your typical eight-year-old,” Morgan confirmed.

“Brandon invited us to his birthday party. I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not.” Morgan dropped a hand on her shoulder, smothered a yawn. “It's going to be quite the celebration. I want to peek in on the kids,” Morgan told Gage as she headed into the family room. “Sheila, I owe you.”

“Hey,” Gina whispered to Gage. Recognizing Gina's conspiracy-inspired urgency, Gage cast a cautious glance in her direction and followed her into the kitchen. “Have you seen this?” She plucked a clipboard off the wall and handed it over to him. “Morgan's insane, right? Thinking she can fix everything that's wrong with this house by herself.”

While it was on the tip of Gage's tongue to chastise his sister for snooping, he appreciated the fact that he wasn't the only person who thought Morgan thrived on living on the edge of sanity.

“This list of repairs and upgrades has to be five pages long.” He flipped through the paper and a ripe combination of anger and frustration crept over him, batting against his rib cage as he tried to remind himself that this was who Morgan was. Every minute of the day had to be filled, scheduled, or planned for. But damn if she wasn't heading for a crash of epic proportions.

“Seven and a half. Single spaced.” Gina glanced behind him as if Morgan walking in on them would spell their doom. “Seriously, Gage, a lot of this is pretty easy to do but it's going to take her forever. These kids need a safe house. There are rooms they've locked because they need work. Morgan needs some relief. She shouldn't have to spend whatever free time or money she has fixing dry rot or the leaking pipes in the basement. Sheila told me she hadn't taken a day off for months before yesterday.”

“You got the job with her sister, didn't you?” Gage looked up to find Gina grinning like a fool. “As long as you heard what Morgan said. It won't be easy.”

“We're Julianos. We don't do easy.”

From the list Gage was looking at, neither did Tremaynes. Gage returned the list to her. “Take a picture of those and send them to my phone.”

“Already did. Check your email.”

Gage smirked. Typical. “How long do you think it would take to get that list taken care of if we rallied the troops?”

“If we plan out our strategy, and everyone on the list I'm making comes through, we could knock out at least half of what she wants to do on Saturday, more if we come back on Sunday. Getting people to help won't be the problem.”

“What is?”

“Getting Morgan to let them.”

Gage wrapped an arm around Gina's neck and pulled her in for a hard hug. “Kid, you truly are the wisest of us. I'll take care of distracting the dragon at the gate and hereby put Operation Morgan in your hands. We shall commence first thing Saturday morning.”

The second he returned to the living room and sat down, Kelley jumped to her feet and propelled herself onto his lap, settling into the crook of his arm as if she'd been born there. He caught Morgan's sleepy smile as she leaned her head on her sister's shoulder. Either she was too tired to be worried about, well, anything, or she was getting used to him being around.

Either worked for him.

“Sheila, I hear you're planning the birthday party of the century,” Gage said.

Sheila crossed her ivory pantsuited legs and tightened her ponytail. “It's not every day Brandon Monroe turns double digits. We need to celebrate properly.”

“We're going to have a bouncy castle that looks like a sheriff's station.” Brandon scooted forward, peering at the DVD player. He pushed the button to eject the disk, pushed it again. Then he pushed it again. “Morgan, how—”

“You don't need to know how the DVD player works.” Morgan groaned and pushed to her feet.

“That reminds me,” Sheila said, angling a look at Brandon. “I think your washing machine is broken.”

“I just replaced the hose on Wednesday,” Morgan said, casting a look at Brandon, who was paying far too much attention to a snag in the rug. “What's wrong with it?”

“I think you need to see it to believe it.” Sheila grinned.

Gage hid a smile behind his hand. The effort it was taking for Sheila not to laugh must have been killing her. She'd turn blue any second.

With a stern look in Brandon's direction, Morgan left the room. By the time she returned, Brandon had gotten to his feet and stood with his hands behind his back as he swung back and forth, pursing his lips over and over. “Brandon?”

“Yes, Morgan?” He turned wide eyes on her.

“Why are there coins in the washing machine?” Morgan asked.

Gage snorted then covered with a cough.

“I wanted to wash my money.” He dug his hands into his pockets. “Like on TV. You know, like they talk about on the news?”

“Do you mean laundering money?” Gage asked.

Brandon's face lit up. “Yes.” Morgan groaned as Brandon clapped his hands. “I couldn't remember the word, but I knew it had to do with cleaning. Did it work?”

“It did not. How much—” Morgan shot a shut-up look to her sister, who couldn't control her laughter any longer, and triggered Gina and even had Theresa joining in. “Exactly how much money did you attempt to wash?”

“All my piggy money.” The pride with which he announced this erased the irritation shining in Morgan's eyes. “Seventeen dollars and ninety-six cents.”

“Most of it was pennies,” Kelley added. “I bet they're shiny now.”

“Let's check.” Brandon attempted to race past Morgan, who caught him in mid flight and hoisted him into her arms. “I broke it, didn't I?” He flattened his palms against her cheeks, looked into her eyes. “Sorry. I'll help you fix it.”

“I'll handle this one, bud. Why don't you head on up to bed.” She kissed him and set him down. “But the next repair is coming out of the swear jar money. Bed,” Morgan told Kelley. “Now.”

“I can take them,” Gina offered from where she was perched on the arm of one of the sofas.

“Yes, please.” Brandon sprang forward and grabbed Gina's hands. “Come on, Kelley. I bet Gina will read us two stories.”

“You're only obligated for one,” Morgan called after them as Kelley scrambled off of Gage's lap, snatched up the wand she'd left on the floor, and scooted up the stairs after them.

“God, I love that kid,” Sheila said as she wiped tears from her face. “What other nine-year-old would come up with that?”

“Yeah, it's all fun and games when you don't have to fix his experiments,” Morgan muttered, triggering a pang of sympathy in Gage's chest.

“So, I have a new assistant.” Sheila aimed a look at Morgan, who acted as if she had no idea what Sheila was talking about.

“I have her resume, if you want to see it,” Morgan offered.

“Oh, she had a copy on her phone.” Sheila looked at Theresa. “Something tells me my life just got very interesting.”

“One's life becomes so once you've met a Juliano,” Theresa confirmed. “Speaking of which—”

Gage's phone buzzed against his waist. After having been blessedly silent for most of the day, he'd almost forgotten he had it with him.

“Someday I hope he realizes there's more to life than work.” Theresa aimed a look at Morgan.

“Maybe they both will,” Sheila agreed.

“We are both in the room with you.” Gage would have rolled his eyes but wasn't in the mood to be smacked with a wooden spoon. He didn't want to have to admit to his mother he was coming around to her way of thinking. “Bouncer, what's up?”

“Boss, you near a TV? Channel seven news.”

“Turn on channel seven,” Gage said softly, scooting to the edge of the couch as Morgan grabbed the remote.

As the picture came into focus, he saw the “Breaking News” chyron skim across the bottom of the screen. “Nemesis Strikes Socialite's Estate” was in bold yellow against the bright blue banner.

Gage clenched his jaw so tight he was afraid he'd shatter his teeth. Media choppers circled a crime scene that looked like something out of a pumped-up episode of
Dexter
. Squad cars with lights blazing, news crews staked out down the street, uniformed officers milling about and stretching yellow caution tape across the metal gate to prevent anyone else from crossing onto the property.

“What the hell is that?” Gage demanded of Bouncer.

“Forty minutes ago Clarice Bell tweeted she'd been robbed by Nemesis. It's gone viral. She's already had her face in front of three different local news cameras and has her press agent scheduling interviews.”

“Call Rojas and Peyton in,” Gage told Bouncer and tried to ignore the fact everyone in the room looked transfixed by the story. “Looks like Nemesis just ended our weekend early. Run Bell through that new system you're working with. I want every detail you can pull, so you'd better grab another whiteboard.”

“Got it.”

Gage squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'll head over to the scene right now. I'll see you at the office in a bit.”

“Donuts and coffee?” She sounded as hopeful as a five-year-old asking for a new box of crayons.

“Yeah.” The front door opened as he hung up. “I need to go to work.”

Morgan stood frozen in front of the television, her eyes glazed as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. “Nemesis? You're sure?” she whispered as she started chewing her thumbnail.

“Looks like.” So much for a reprieve from his real life. But the concern in her eyes when she focused cut through the bitterness of having to deal with a new crime scene. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.”

Morgan nodded. “I know.”

“I'll head out with you.” Sheila gave Morgan a hug and trailed behind him. “I can't believe Nemesis would target a media whore like Clarice Bell. Seems beneath him.”

“I have no idea what Nemesis would consider beneath him,” Gage said. “Mom, I'll call you in a day or so. Oh, hi, Nico. Drew all set for the night?”

Angela and Nico came in looking both worn out and relieved. His mother appeared instantly, as if she'd been waiting to pounce. Gage frowned. He knew that look. He'd seen it on Gina's face a few minutes ago.

“He's good to go,” Angela told him. “They were able to repair the pump and his numbers are evening out. Should be able to come home tomorrow.”

“Give Drew a day to get used to the idea of his new job, then my dad will be in touch. I'll walk you to your car, Sheila.” Once they were on the sidewalk, Gage said, “You have any trouble with Gina, you let me or my mom know. She can be pushy when she wants something.”

“You're talking to someone who grew up with Morgan, Gage. I can handle your sister. I might work her to exhaustion, but I'll also make sure she has some fun. Did I see her with Morgan's clipboard of death?”

“We've deemed Saturday Operation Morgan Day.”

Sheila arched a brow, her lips curving. “Will we need body armor?”

“Grubby clothes and a paintbrush, I'm thinking. We're taking on the house and Morgan's monstrous to-do list.”

“I'll bring a flak jacket just in case.” Morgan's sister chuckled. “You're good for her, Gage. I hope she sees that.”

She wasn't the only one.

She hit the fob for her Mercedes coup, but hesitated before she climbed in. “You don't think Nemesis is dangerous, do you? He's never hurt anyone.”

“Maybe not intentionally.” An image of Brady flashed in Gage's mind, but the sting had lessened. The longer he was on the case, the more he understood the pressure his friend had been under. “But I don't think he considered collateral damage. Good night, Sheila.”

“Yeah.” She got into her car and Gage waited until she drove off before returning to the real world.

And Nemesis.

***

Given the chaos he'd watched on television, Gage didn't even consider parking near the Bell estate. Besides, the three-block hike in the cool evening breeze got his mind off Morgan and on the job.

Clarice Bell. New money. Some would say obnoxious money if the rumor mill could be believed, cash earned by flaunting stupid antics along the west coast with her buffoon-like entourage. An uber-reality star who made the Kardashians look like posh British royalty.

Which was why Gage wasn't the least bit surprised to find Clarice standing in the middle of the street with a rabid-looking Pomeranian tucked under one arm. Fifty pounds of extensions tumbled down her back like compost worms gone wild as she blinked tearfully into the cameras, exalting her “terrifying” tarrying encounter with Nemesis.

God, he was getting sick of this shit.

“Gage.” Evan called out to him from the other side of the crime scene tape where he stood with a short, rotund man in his dress uniform.

“Chief Randall.” Gage held out his hand, keeping his expression blank as he greeted his former superior.

Randall's face relaxed to the point that Gage let out the breath he'd been holding. While the chief hadn't tried to talk Gage out of taking the inspector position, he hadn't been encouraging on the matter either. “Got your hands full with this one, Inspector.”