Unlikely Allies (32 page)

Emma returned to her chair and propped her chin in her palm. Using a gentle approach, she asked, “You okay?” Maggie ripped the paper towel to shreds. Quiet a long while, Emma watched and waited, her mother’s X-ray vision switched on. Even so, Emma took considerable time in her examination, no doubt figuring out the real reason for Maggie’s frantically beating heart.

The all-knowing stare got to Maggie. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight.

In a soft and soothing tone, a technique Maggie often used when Cece had a nightmare, Emma spoke with comfort and understanding. “He has his faults . . .”

A sudden smirk tugged at Maggie’s mouth and in order to hold in a giggle, she clenched her teeth and pinched her lips.

“He’s stubborn.”

Maggie’s eyes popped open, and she snickered a little. She couldn’t believe Emma would say something bad about her pride and joy.

A warm and placating smile flashed across Emma’s lips. “Has to control things, dots every
i,
crosses each
t
a thousand times over, driving everyone insane.” Reaching across the table, Emma took hold of Maggie’s hand, which came to rest when the scraps were too small to tear apart anymore. “Max . . .” Emma paused. The mention of her husband brought a faraway look for a second, and after a glance out the back door and an inhale, she continued. “Was a devoted father. Doted on Rick from the time he was born. Even though he was a busy executive, he put Rick first, providing the love and support essential to a young boy and man. Like you do for Cece.”

Maggie’s heart leapt for a different reason. She took pride in raising her daughter, and even though she didn’t need someone else’s praise, she appreciated the recognition. Especially after her gloomy conversation with Kat. She nodded, squeezing Emma’s fingers, a gesture that had been returned.

“For reasons I don’t understand, Rick doesn’t think he’d make a good father.”

Her mouth fell open, and Maggie attempted to correct his mother, but she wasn’t sure how to verbalize it. It didn’t matter. Emma had more to divulge.

“When his father passed away, instead of withdrawing or becoming depressed, he went full steam ahead. His dad’s company was his driving force. He put everything into his studies and gained experience so he could take over. That’s all he’s done since.” Emma looked over her shoulder toward the living room and spoke while Cece rifled through the bucket and then dumped the contents on the couch. “I’ve seen him with your daughter a few times now.” When she turned toward Maggie, Emma had tears in her eyes. “He loves her very much.”

Maggie didn’t need Emma to tell her that, but all the same, hearing it lodged an enormous lump in her throat. For so long, she hoped Jake would feel that way, yet Rick, a total stranger, had instead. No, she couldn’t call him that. He hadn’t been an outsider since the day they met. She could admit that now.

“And when he’s with you . . .” While Emma took several sips from her cup, she scrutinized Maggie’s face again.

The phone lying next to the chore list rang. She snagged the cell and smiled at the number displayed. “Daddy, hi.” She could breathe easier now. His cheery and loving voice always calmed her. “What?” But that feeling was short lived. “When?” She paced to the door and stove, over and over. This time, chills rushed through her as she listened to him relay news that Jake had been released today. Overcrowding and good behavior, blah, blah, blah. The buzzing in her ears blocked out everything else he said. She pressed her forehead against the doorjamb, sniffling as her nose ran. He kept asking if she heard him, was she okay, but she couldn’t talk.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to whip around as if Jake had snuck up behind her. Fear slammed into her, freezing her in place. Emma’s eyes searched hers, and the longer she did, the pinched frown at Emma’s mouth grew.

Her dad, yelling her name, jolted her out of her trance and into action. She dashed around Emma and over to the notepad, tearing off the top sheet. “What’s his parole officer’s name?” Jotting it down, she asked, “Do you have his number?” After he provided both, she closed her eyes and dropped her throbbing head into her chest. Several deep breaths later, her trembles lessened. Her dad launched one question after another, but she refused to answer. The pencil snapping in half in her hand and shards flying across the counter had her examining the mess along with the scattered fragments of her past and present choices. God, why hadn’t she listened, done something?

“Dad, can I call you back? I can’t talk right now.” His police officer alertness had been replaced by fatherly concern. If she didn’t call him back in fifteen minutes, he’d be on a plane and at her front door by dinner. She hadn’t doubted him for a second and reassured him she would. After she hung up and blew her nose, she looked toward the living room. Cece had stretched out on the cushions and fallen asleep. Her watch showed one fifteen, a little after nap time. Before Emma arrived Cece had lunch, so she wasn’t sleeping on an empty stomach. At least Maggie did one thing right today.

Emma came up behind her again, grabbing her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Maggie shook her head. No way would she get into something so personal with her. “I’m sorry, but I have calls to make. I’ll see you out.” Not giving Emma any choice, she walked straight to the front door, holding it open.

Before Emma stepped onto the porch, she faced Maggie. No anger displayed after the rude request, just a mother’s concern. “If there’s anything I can do, you have my number. Call me anytime, Maggie, day or night, it wouldn’t matter.”

Touched by her kind offer, she gave Emma a hug, thanking her for Cece’s gift and for coming by. As soon as Emma got in her car and Maggie waved goodbye, she began damage control.

First, her dad. She explained her reaction away as shock and didn’t get into any details about the threats. Simple yes and no replies kept her off his radar, for now at least.

Next, Kat, who yelled to high heaven about her stupidity, using every swear word known to mankind.

Last, the parole officer. No answer, just voice mail. Figured as much.

With age came wisdom, or in her case, more mistakes.

R
OUTINE AND STRUCTURE WERE GOOD.
Four days in and Rick almost caught up with the mound of paperwork left for him. He never missed any time before. His vacations were nonexistent. Most people looked forward to things like that. He didn’t. There wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go, and keeping his eyes on the prize all along made the company thrive.

Besides, traveling never felt the same without his dad. Throughout the year, his father reserved several weeks for vacations and established a tradition early on by having them each choose a place to visit. Since Mom toured often, she chose to stay closer to home. Their log cabin in the Catskill Mountains included seventy-five acres of pure heaven on earth and had become her preference. It had a private pond big enough for large- and small-mouth bass, a bunch of crappy, and bluegill, making it their favorite place to fish in Dad’s rowboat. Rick hadn’t gone there since Dad died, but Mom did. She wrote her latest novel there. She tried to get him to take time off and go for a weekend, relax. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

A big outdoorsman, Dad always chose a campground with a huge lake. His goal had been to see as many places as he could throughout the US. Since Rick’s birth, and even though he couldn’t remember the earliest years, they visited eighteen different states. His father said since he spent most days in an office, he wanted to be outdoors as much as possible.

Once Rick had been old enough, around four, he chose Disney World. What kid wouldn’t? Each year after that, he selected a different amusement park, and even though he’d been too young and short to ride roller coasters, his obsession with them grew regardless. He’d never forget the day his dad took him on the first “real” one: The Prowler in Kansas City when he reached the critical height of forty-eight inches. The breakneck speed and thrill of the first huge drop followed by the wild twists and turns gave him a rush like no other. Except maybe hot and heavy sex.

Ugh, he didn’t need to think about that now. In a dry spell and sick of jacking off, he wanted to kick his own ass for his obsession—Maggie.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Quick to assess a situation, Matt would key in to his fucked-up head in seconds and strike fast. Instead of confronting him, Rick kept staring at the people rushing along the sidewalks and taxis lined up along the street. For the past half hour or so he’d zoned out, unable to work.

“I came bearing gifts.”

He already figured as much. His nose could never mistake O’Reilly’s Pub’s infamous hamburgers. The best on Staten Island and in New York, they had an amazing sweet pretzel bun, a pound of ground fresh sirloin and filet blend, topped with cheese, toasted onion strips, and a thick slab of hickory-smoked bacon under the patty. At least he had a different reason for salivating other than stripped nude images of Maggie. He hadn’t even seen her naked, yet his brain didn’t seem to give a damn, and conjured up one fantasy after another. Her tossing off a tank top, whipping down jean shorts, revealing no undergarments, bare breasts, and a shaved mound. Another of her in nothing but a lace bra and matching thong, in different colors and styles. The dreams appeared throughout the day and night, frequent enough to drive him insane and classify them as an obsession. He’d never been in a position where he didn’t get what he wanted, or anyone he desired, ever. And he didn’t like the jittery and anxious feeling it gave him either. He wasn’t the compulsive type, but this predicament left him out of sorts, and uncertain how to address it or her. Should he leave her alone or try to push? Do something, anything, other than what he’d done—nothing.

“You gonna let these beauties get cold or are you eatin’ with me? Mmm . . . you’re missin’ out, buddy.”

On cue Rick’s stomach growled, ready to devour and feed his ravenousness in another way. When he took the first bite, his low growl and eyes rolling into the back of his head made Matt bust a gut. He hadn’t eaten a burger in months. The fresh-cut fries he’d dumped onto the foil wrapper became his next target, and he shoveled a handful into his mouth.

“Jeez, if I’d known you were that hungry I would have bought you more than two. Damn, man, did you have anything to eat today? I haven’t seen you suck down food like that since college.”

Rick shrugged and took another huge bite of the stacked and sinful beef.

“How’s your grandfather?”

After Rick had a chance to swallow enough to talk, he shared the good news. “Doctors said if he keeps improving, he’ll be transferred to a regular room in a few more days. When I stop by, he bitches and kicks me out after a half hour. Says not to worry about him, that I need to be working and makin’ him money.”

Matt shook his head, wiping ketchup off his chin with a wad of napkins. “He’s a trip. Unbelievable. Good to hear he hasn’t lost his bite.”

Rick snorted. Fat chance of that happening. Grandfather might’ve mentioned staying out of his life, and their recent conversations had stuck to safer topics such as politics, world events, and Mom’s book tour. So far, so good, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. More stubborn than a donkey, Horatio Stone wouldn’t change his spots overnight. Grandfather hadn’t mentioned a thing about Kensington Securities since their falling out. Airing on the side of caution, he contacted John and went jogging yesterday. That gave him a chance to feel John out, and lucky for Rick, the owner had no interest in partnering or merging.

“Thanks for checking in on the girls while I was out of town. Soph said you came for dinner every night. I heard Harley and Lizbeth painted your toenails.” Matt’s smile widened. “At least I’m not the only one sufferin’ through girly primping.”

Rick jerked his chin up and kept chewing, then sucked down a huge gulp of the sweet tea. Matt pretended he minded the girls’ froufrou play, but the doting daddy would’ve been right next to him watching sports and drinking beer as the twins threw boas on them, painted their faces, and anything else they dreamt up. Since Rick would do anything for them, their happiness outweighed his temporary pain. Besides, his part of the deal involved them removing the paint before he left. Since they enjoyed taking it off as much as putting it on, he lucked out. “I was outnumbered,” he grumbled over another mouthful of fries. “How was the convention?”

“Aw, man, you should’ve seen all the new tech gadgets. As much as I hate being away from my girls, I can’t resist going and tryin’ them out. Besides, our booth drums up at least a dozen accounts, and I get to hunt out new recruits too.”

“You hiring?” He swallowed the last bite and started on the next burger.

Matt nodded, not bothering to talk while he chewed. “We’re swamped. I need about five or six more investigators and at least three bodyguards. Business is hoppin,’ my friend.” Finished with his fries, Matt reached across the table and snatched his.

“Hey.” Rick folded the foil halfway over the top, covering the three or four left. “Hands off.”

“You owe me. I came to collect.” Matt leaned back in the leather chair, patting his stomach. “So how you gonna do it?”