Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (21 page)

“We’ve already finished our discussion about Magnum Investigations.” Avoiding eye contact, she made a play of heartily eating the rest of the delicious meal, even though she’d lost her appetite.

“No, we haven’t,” he said, softly. Her gaze was still averted. Ross watched Jessica’s fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. “I’ve always fancied going private. Easy money. Hours to suit. Do what you want, when you want.” He got no response to his teasing about a job he knew was anything but easy. “Let me in, Jess. Sell me half the agency. We’d be partners, fifty-fifty.” He blinked. Had he just said what he thought he’d said? A sense of déjà vu gripped him. Only this time he was not in a sex-induced coma.

Like a puppet on a string, Jessica’s head jerked up. “What? You can’t be serious! For one, you couldn’t afford it. And two, I thought you wanted to make lieutenant before you hit thirty.”

“I do.” Time for some serious backpedaling. “I’m yanking your chain. I haven’t seen your temper for a while, and I was getting withdrawal symptoms because you haven’t called me a moron for at least a couple of hours.”

Ross hoped he looked as convincing as he sounded. Apparently, he did, because Jessica threw her head back and shrieked with laughter. He licked his lips at the tasty view of the long line of her throat. She was definitely dessert. Right after the small matter of cracking a password.

He got to his feet and pulled the chair around to sit beside her. “Jess, can I ask you a question?” he asked, picking up the BlackBerry and turning it on. “Why did you go after Harknett? I mean it’s not like anybody hired you. You weren’t going to get paid.”

Jessica dried her eyes with the napkin. “I did it for the recognition I’d receive for nailing his ass to a cell door. Him and every other dealer listed. I thought when people realized I was good at my job the work would come pouring in.”

“I’m sure it will. Jess, you’re a damned good PI.”

She blushed. “Thank you. And you’re a damned good detective, Ross. Or should I call you Ace?” His grin was too smug and too sexy by half. “Go on, moron, get us access.”

“Right.” Ross held the BlackBerry so they could both see the screen. “Harknett was the senior…” He stopped when the lights above them flickered.

“Ross?”

“No, Jess, no. A storm’s brewing, that’s all. Where was I? Harknett was the senior aide to Senator Williamson. You said Williamson wanted the BlackBerry because he was going to fill his very dead aide’s shoes. So the password would have to be something they’d both know. A word that, I don’t know, maybe links them together?”

She smiled. “I’ve already tried asshole.”

Ross chuckled and elbowed Jessica when the lights flickered again. “Storm brewing, remember? Either that or Williamson hasn’t paid his bill.”

“I know the feeling,” she sighed.

“Would you like me to loan you some money?”

“No! How many more times do I have to say it? I don’t want your money! I’m handling my debts.”

“All right. All right. Don’t get your thong in a twist.” He blew out a lungful of air and tapped his fingers on the table. “How about the word
aide
? No, not long enough.”

“
Senior
?” she suggested. “Or what about
secretary
?”

Ross typed in both words, but on each occasion “incorrect password” flashed up on the screen. He again tapped his fingers. Then an idea came to him. He typed in the word
senator
. “We have liftoff!” he announced gleefully when the message,
Good evening, Blade
, came up. A couple of seconds later, he scrolled through the list of applications and selected Contacts. Nothing but the names and telephone numbers for other members of the Senate. The Oval Office was also listed.

“I’ve always fancied ringing the president and asking if he’d had a nice day.” Ross chuckled.

“How about the one marked Federation?” Jessica suggested, moving closer until she was almost sitting in his lap.

With deliberate concentration because her hot breath in his ear was a tickling turn-on, Ross selected the relevant icon. There was only one document. He opened it. Displayed on the screen were a list of names and numbers. “We definitely have liftoff.” He then frowned. “No, wait a minute. Jeff Summers. Wasn’t he the police officer who was stabbed a few months back in the Bronx? He died while trying to break up some domestic. The husband turned the knife on him or something.”

Jessica frowned. “Can’t say I remember it. You don’t think he was involved in drugs, do you?”

Ross shook his head. “Definitely not. And these names are definitely not those of drug traffickers. They’re police officers. Dead ones,” he added when he recognized a couple more.

Then, at the bottom of the document, two names leapt off the screen.

Scott Rafferty.

And Sam Carrick.

Chapter 13

Ross needed a drink. A large one. He reached for the wine bottle, poured out a full glass, and downed it. One glance at the BlackBerry’s screen told him he needed another. Sam Carrick was still there.

It seemed no sooner had his mother laid Carrick to rest, than he’d popped up to haunt him. Ross would have pondered on the reasons why if it hadn’t come to his attention that Jessica had gone strangely quiet. As he poured himself another glass, he studied her. No weird look this time, just an unreadable expression. Yet he knew she was holding out on him. “What do you know about Sam Carrick?” he finally asked.

Jessica took a moment to take a steadying breath. Who’d have thought that gaining access to Harknett’s phone would be the catalyst for revealing a thirty-year-old family secret? “What was he apart from your mom’s former partner who died thirty years ago?”

“He’s mine and Daniel’s half brother,” she replied when he nodded.

Ross spluttered and choked on the large mouthful he’d just taken. “He’s what!”

“Mine and Daniel’s half brother.”

He shook his head in denial. “No way. You’re lying.” He again shook his head, then after drinking the wine, pushed the glass away. Cool, calm, and in control. Not what he felt at all. What he really wanted to do was throw the glass at the wall. The bottle, too. In fact, every breakable object on the table.

“Ross, I’m not lying. Why would I?”

“Gee, give me a nanosecond to think about that, will ya?”

Jessica ignored the clear sarcasm and placed her hand on his arm. He was wound so tight she thought he might snap. “Don’t be angry.” She reached up with her other hand and touched the kink in his nose with her forefinger. “I mean it’s not like we don’t all have our little secrets.”

Ross jerked away and shoved to his feet, his chair landing with a clatter on the terra-cotta-tiled flooring. “Don’t you dare turn this into something about me! The only woman who’ll know how I came to break my nose will be my wife. And since I don’t ask twice, that won’t be you. Like I’ve said, you’ve already had your chance with me…” He trailed off at her crushed expression. Blowing out a lungful of air, he righted his chair and sat down again. “Okay, since I’m becoming a great fan of fairy tales, tell me how Carrick is yours and Daniel’s half brother. How you found out and when. Oh, and you can start with ‘Once upon a time’ if you want to.”

She again ignored his sarcasm. “Just before Christmas I was—”

“You’ve known for six months!” he interrupted, loudly and sharply. “And you were going to tell me, when? Next Christmas?”

Jessica slapped her hand on the table, stunning Ross into silence. “If you don’t stop behaving like a moron, I won’t tell you anything.” She waited for a full minute before continuing. “I was in my parents’ attic searching for a spare set of fairy lights for my Christmas tree. I came across a cardboard box containing a load of old photographs. There was also a framed photo of a man and a woman. There was something familiar about it, but I just couldn’t think what. Then I realized I’d seen it at your parents’ house. When was the last time you saw Danny?”

He frowned, half with concentration, half with exasperation at her abrupt subject switch. “Don’t know. Last July maybe. Why?”

“I’m not changing the subject, okay, Ross? At first glance, I thought the man and the woman was Danny and your sister, Samantha. The likeness is incredible. It was only when I looked more closely and saw the letters
LAPD
on the notice board behind them that I knew it wasn’t them but your mom and Sam. I knew his name because I once asked your mom about her former detective days. What was her nickname again? Foxy?”

Ross held up a hand. “Hang on a minute. Is Carrick seated at a desk and Mom standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders?”

She nodded. “Yeah. She looks kind of serious, but Sam’s grinning like the Cheshire cat. He’s also got a real wicked glint in his eye. Kind of like he’s thinking of new ways of going down on her.”

“Yes, thank you, Jess, for that analysis.”

“What? You don’t mind overhearing my mom saying she’s gonna give Dad a blow job, yet you turn prude when it comes—”

“I’m no prude,” Ross cut in. “It’s just I can’t imagine Mom with any man other than my father. Getting back to that photograph, it’s been on our mantel for years, and I’ve never noticed any likeness between Carrick and Daniel.”

“Well, I could see it. And that’s why I went downstairs to ask my father for an explanation. At first, he clammed up, wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to say it was none of my business. Then Mom came in the room. She saw the photo and said, ‘It’s time.’ Dad then explained when he was twenty he’d had a relationship with Esther Carrick, his childhood sweetheart. They had a son, Sam. They were happy and in love, or so Dad thought. But Esther ran off with another guy and took Sam with her. He would have been twelve at the time.” She stopped at Ross’s thoughtful expression. “What?”

He shook his head. “I was just thinking. Mom worked and lived in LA, Hollywood, if I remember correctly. With Carrick. When he died, she took a transfer to Montana where she met and married my father, and in turn, found out his best friend, Ray Ferris, your father, is also Carrick’s father.” This time, he stopped when Jessica shook her head. “No? What do you mean no?”

“Did Dad tell you where he was posted as an agent?”

“No. Like I said, I’d always presumed he’d been a cop. You know, he and Dad were partners or something. Thinking about it now though, I suppose Ray was posted to Salt Lake City. It serves Utah, plus the states of Montana and Idaho, and Yellowstone National Park. He must have been assigned a case that involved my father because, otherwise, how would they have met and become friends?”

“Ross, Dad was born and lived in DC, but after he graduated, he was posted to the LA Field Office. Before Sam died, Dad had never set foot in Montana. So when your mom was transferred, our fathers didn’t know each other.

“Actually, saying that, your mom didn’t even know Dad was Sam’s father. It was only when Sam’s murderer, some Grade A asshole called Mickey Sanchez, escaped from jail and decided to go after your mom in revenge for putting him behind bars in the first place that she found out.” She shifted in her seat. Ross was looking at her expectantly. “What I’m about to tell you goes no further, okay?”

“Of course.”

Jessica then told Ross everything else about her father’s past and Sam Carrick. When she’d finished, he was opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. She couldn’t blame him. It had been a shock to her system when her father had told her.

“So let me get this straight,” Ross said once he’d rediscovered the power of speech. “In summary, when Esther left Ray, your father, she made false accusations of assault and rape against him to prevent him having access rights to Sam. She failed. He was cleared. Then she and Sam disappeared without trace. Ray hits the bottle and gets kicked out of the Bureau.

“Fast-forward fifteen years. Carrick dies. Mom transfers to Silver Creek, where she meets Dad, marries him and has me. In the meantime, Sanchez escapes from jail. Ray sobers up and pays Mom a visit, just in time to stop Sanchez putting a bullet in her. Our fathers become friends for life. And Mom fixes Ray up with a job working as a civilian in Hollywood alongside her old friend, colleague, and all-round wise-ass Frank Walsh.