by Jeannie Watt
“I’ll start working on a document warrant,” Marcus said with an air of extreme importance, ignoring the fact that Daphne was talking to Nick. “See if we can get one with a gag order, so as not to tip Ballard off. Judge Vale owes me a favor.”
“And you?” Daphne asked Nick.
“I’m going to a surprise birthday party.”
He didn’t want Eden anywhere near that Ballard son of a bitch without some protection. All he had to do was round up a prop or two, which was easy, since he still had a key to the Tremont Catering kitchen.
PATTY HAD JUST taken a tray out to the dining room, leaving Eden alone in the kitchen when the back door opened, startling her. She glanced up just as Nick walked in wearing a chef’s jacket. Justin’s jacket, if she wasn’t mistaken. There was a distinctive blue dribble down the front.
She instantly put down the piping bag she’d been using and crossed to the door. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a whisper, her heart beating triple time. “Is Justin all right?”
“He’s fine. Marcus is watching him.” Nick grasped her shoulders and leaned his face close to hers. “We found the Jeep involved in Justin’s accident. Traced it to a company Ballard owns.”
Eden suddenly had a hard time breathing. “Michael?”
Michael, who’d sold Justin the Firebird for a ridiculously low sum of money because he knew how much her brother coveted the car? Michael, who’d joked with her in the kitchen dozens of times over the past four years?
“I want you to get through this party as soon as possible, then we’ll get the hell out of here. Got it?”
Eden nodded.
“I don’t want Ballard to suspect anything is wrong, because of the flight risk.” But Nick wanted her safe. “Just give me a few hints how to look professional, okay?”
Eden finally found her voice. “Just…rearrange things on the trays if anyone comes in. Okay?”
Patty came back into the kitchen with a load of empty glasses. She gave a small gasp of surprise when she saw Nick. Eden put her finger to her lips and motioned her over.
“Nick’s going to stay here in the kitchen. He’s a temp who arrived late. Okay?”
Patty nodded, her eyes worried. “Is there some sort of trouble?”
“We hope not,” he said. “But it’s important none of the guests guess that anything is off. Can you treat me like one of the temps?”
“Of course,” Patty said, tossing her head. “I once did community theater.”
“Good.” Nick smiled slightly and moved over to where Eden had been loading trays before he’d come in. “And if I tell you to do something, do it without question.”
“Certainly.” Patty drew in a breath and composed her features in a way that made Eden believe she’d probably been very good at community theater.
Eden went to stand beside Nick, putting appetizers onto the silver platters, her hands shaking slightly. Michael owned the car that had hit Justin.
Maybe it’d been stolen.
But if that was the case, then Nick probably wouldn’t be here.
He leaned down and said close to her ear, “I won’t let anything happen to you or your family. I promise you.” He practically growled the words.
“Thank you,” Eden said in a small voice, wondering if this nightmare was ever going to end, and how she’d gotten into it in the first place.
IN NICK’S MIND, this birthday party was lasting way longer than necessary. All he wanted to do was get Eden and Patty out of there without arousing Ballard’s suspicions that something was off. Then they’d stash Justin away while Marcus pursued a document search warrant. Hopefully, they’d find evidence of money laundering, which would lead to a satisfying conclusion to drug traffic through the Summit.
Frosting on the cake would be nailing the guy for involvement in little Cully’s murder.
Eden worked mechanically, her head down as she arranged food, heated hors d’oeuvres. Patty came and went, moving with quiet efficiency, giving no sign that anything was out of the ordinary, other than the occasional frowning glance in Nick’s direction. And occasionally the hostess popped in, wearing a dress that smacked of big bucks, even to Nick’s untrained eye, to flutter around and make helpful suggestions. Nick kept his head down so she couldn’t see his face. People involved with drug trafficking were often familiar with both law enforcement and the members of the local drug task force. It was a matter of self-preservation. Know your enemy. But Mrs. Ballard didn’t seem at all troubled by his sudden appearance, especially after Eden casually mentioned that she’d brought in a temp, just to make certain she could keep up with the demands of the guests.
“Lovely, lovely party,” the woman cooed during her last kitchen visit. Eden smiled bitterly after the door closed behind her.
“I hate this,” she muttered to Nick. The first words she’d said to him since they’d explained the situation to Patty.
He was about to reply when the dining-room door opened once more. But instead of Patty or Tina, a tall sandy-haired kid came into the kitchen, smiling over his shoulder as he entered the room. “Prosecco? You got it,” he said. “I have a secret stash.” He was still smiling as the door swung shut, then stopped dead when he saw Nick. “Uh, hi.”
Nick nodded, his radar instantly up. He’d dealt with enough criminals to recognize that the kid had gone on high alert as soon as he spotted Nick, which gave him a bad feeling. He did not work undercover. Anyone who cared to do the research could easily identify him as Reno P.D. and a drug task-force member. Had this kid done his research?
He started rearranging crackers on the plate in front of him, trying to figure how to get both Eden and Patty out of there if the shit hit the fan.
“Hi, Joshua,” Eden said in a spectacularly professional tone. “Are you low on something?”
Nick watched out of the corner of his eye as Joshua shook his head, attempted a casual half smile. “No. I was just going to the garage for a sec. Private fridge out there.” He nodded at Eden, then headed to the garage door next to the giant refrigerator, snagging a set of keys off the hook as he went.
“Is there a fridge in the garage?” Nick asked.
“No.”
Nick dashed around the counter, veering sideways to avoid a collision with Patty. Joshua was climbing into his car, a wild look on his face as he waited for the wide electronic doors to slowly rise. He fumbled under the seat as Nick burst through the door.
Nick saw the flash of a weapon and was on the kid in an instant. Grabbing him by the collar, he yanked him out of the car and threw him sideways. The gun went flying out of his hand.
Joshua lunged back at him, trying to get to the car to make his escape, but Nick knocked him sideways again, planting a knee in his back and wrenching one arm up high behind the kid’s back.
“Call 9-1-1,” he said to Patty, who stood in the doorway. Eden was only feet away from him, looking as if she’d been ready to jump in and help if necessary.
“I already have,” Patty said.
“Get in here,” Nick ordered. “Close the door behind you.”
She quickly complied as Nick pulled the flex cuff out of his waistband and ratcheted it around Joshua Ballard’s wrists. The kid grunted, but Nick had a feeling the thick walls of the garage were probably close to soundproof.
“What now?” Eden asked.
“Now you and Patty are going to leave through that open garage door and get into your van. You will drive away without looking back.”
“You’re staying here?” Eden asked, her face beyond pale.
“Backup is on the way.”
“But—”
Headlights flashed in the driveway and Nick dropped his head in relief. Backup was here.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NICK AND DAPHNE paid for Cully’s burial and gravestone. Marcus chipped in, too, when he heard what they were doing. The only other person attending the brief memorial they’d arranged was Cully’s grandmother, who’d raised him. A woman of
questionable reputation, she nevertheless cried her eyes out at the grave site. Even Marcus got a bit misty.
Daphne took his arm as they left, and Nick was left wondering who was propping up whom. One thing he was certain of was that Marcus would not be getting lucky that night.
Nick went home early in the afternoon to gear up mentally for the next few days, which were going to be hell. Big-name lawyers were already involved in the Ballard case and Nick, of course, was being personally sued for kidnapping, false arrest, battery…pretty much the gamut. He didn’t care. Bring it on.
What he did care about was that he’d blown his chance to get to know Eden better. To see if they could have developed a relationship that worked. He had a feeling that if they had met under more honest circumstances, it would have been doable.
But they hadn’t and it wasn’t.
How could he possibly apologize for almost getting her brother killed? And lying to her? Breaking into her office, her computers? How could she forgive him?
He was screwed. Eden valued trust, and he’d been as untrustworthy as they came. But he had learned one lesson: the end doesn’t always justify the means.
The one bright point was that he had collared Cully’s murderer and the guy who’d forced Justin off the road. They’d found a clear thumbprint belonging to Joshua Ballard on the visor of the Jeep that had rammed into Justin’s Firebird—after he’d made a sworn statement he’d had no connection with the car whatsoever. The .38 slug resting in Cully’s skull matched the gun Joshua had flashed at Nick. And it looked as if Michael Ballard was a big-time money launderer.
So Nick had that.
And not much else.
EDEN HESITATED AT the door of Nick’s apartment. Gabe had given her the address without question when she’d phoned him at Candlewood. She’d had to cancel the very last cooking lesson for obvious reasons. After witnessing an attempted murder—and she had no doubt in her mind that Joshua would have shot Nick—she needed some time to deal with the emotional aftermath. Joshua was not the boy she’d once known. The Ballard family was not the family she’d thought she’d known. Except for Tina, who seemed to be as bewildered as she was at what had happened.
Eden had promised Gabe, though, that she would give a new set of cooking lessons in the future. Gabe gruffly told her she’d better, because he thought he might have left his wallet in a drawer there.
Finally, she lifted her hand and knocked on Nick’s door, since there was no buzzer. The sound echoed hollowly, as if no one was home. She was about to knock again when she heard movement inside and her nerves jumped.
Nick opened the door and her first thought was that he looked like hell. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his face was paler than usual. Her first impulse was to ask, “Are you all right?” But instead she said, “I want the story.”
He drew back, a perplexed look chasing across his face. “What story?”
“I want to know exactly why you did everything you did. I want to know the reasons, and I think you owe me that.”
For one very long minute she thought he was going to say no. Then he stepped back abruptly and Eden walked into his dimly lit apartment. There were empty beer bottles on the coffee table and a suit jacket tossed over the back of a tan recliner, but other than that, the place was Spartan. Kind of a spick-and-span man cave with a few photos on the wall, a coffee table, sofa and television.
He waved toward the sofa and Eden sat, her knees close together, her hands clasped in her lap. Nick did not sit down. He stood next to the recliner, his posture tense. That worked, because Eden wanted some distance between them while she heard “the story.”
“There was this kid named Cully.”
Quite possibly the last thing she’d expected him to say.
“Cully,” she repeated.
“Yes. I didn’t know his full name until a few days ago, when he was buried. Randall C. McCullers.” Nick’s mouth worked for a moment. Not as if he were fighting emotion, but as if he were trying to come up with the words. The right words to convey what he needed to say.
Because he needed for her to understand.
Which made Eden wonder if she was important to him, just as Justin had insisted. If so, then they had so much to work through.
She sat very still, watching, waiting for him to continue.
Finally Nick rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “He was a CI—a confidential informant—that fed Daphne and me information about the drug traffic in the Lake Tahoe area. He wasn’t very old.”
“How old?” Eden asked quietly.
“About the same age as Joshua Ballard,” Nick said with an edge to his voice. “Who I think killed him.”
“So this was a murder investigation?” That at least helped make what had happened more acceptable.
“We didn’t know for sure what had happened to him when we started. He’d set up a meeting to give us information he’d gotten about how the drug money from the Tahoe Summit was laundered. He never showed and we never heard from him again.”
Eden clasped her hands even tighter. And her brother worked there. Had worked there for several years.
Nick propped his forearms on the back of the tan chair, lightly touching his fingertips together. “The only thing we knew was that a business in Reno was involved. The only person in the Summit with a small-business tie was Justin.”
All right. That she could see.
Nick tapped the ends of his fingers together in a distracted manner. “We know now the business involved was actually Colby Construction. Owned by Michael Ballard.”
“But before you knew that, you needed to find out whether Justin was laundering drug money.”
“Yes.” Nick met her eyes, his gaze hard, his mouth tight.
“So you, what? Broke into our records?”
He nodded and started to speak, but Eden cut him off, holding up a hand to silence him. “You know what? I don’t want to know the ins and outs of the espionage.”
“You said you wanted answers.”
“The espionage is more of a technicality.” She dropped her chin for a moment.
“I was trying to break a case. Stop drugs. Find a murderer.”
“Worthy causes,” Eden agreed. “And I was collateral damage.” She unclasped her hands and rubbed the palms over the tops of her thighs. “I feel broken, Nick.” The words came out in a whisper.
“I know.”
She glanced up then, shaking her hair back. “I don’t think you do.”
“I know broken.” His voice was harsh. Adamant. “I’ve been broken…hell, I’m still broken.” He spoke the last words so quietly that she barely heard them.
“Nick…”
He stepped away from the chair where he’d been rooted since starting his explanation, stopping a few feet from her. “I’m not going to ask you for forgiveness. But I am going to explain something else. I lied to you time and time again, but I never lied to you with my body. Or my heart, for that matter. I hated doing what I did. I felt justified.” He drew in a long breath. “And I may have been, since it ultimately solved a crime. But I will forever regret the way this turned out.”
“And now it’s too late.” It was a statement. A challenging one. Eden stood, acting on sheer instinct. “Do you know how many things have felt one way to me and turned out to be the opposite?”
“Quite a lot lately,” he said on a bitter note.
“So I ask myself how I’m supposed to know what’s real.”
“Sometimes you can’t.”
“And sometimes you can.” Eden stepped forward and took his face in her hands, her body instinctively reacting to the warm feel of his skin beneath her palms. Slowly, she pulled his head down to kiss his lips lightly, as she’d done the very first time she’d ever kissed him.
“How does that feel?” she asked when she raised her head. “Does it feel real?”
“Eden…don’t do this.”
“And this.” She kissed him again, her tongue touching hi
s upper lip. As before, he fought it. For a few seconds. Then he groaned and hauled her against him. “Feels real, doesn’t it?” She touched his chest, where his heart beat beneath her palm. “And here. It feels real here.”
He nodded without speaking, still holding her in his arms as she reached up to touch his forehead. “Which makes me think it’s real here. I almost died when Joshua Ballard pulled that gun.”
“Me, too. I thought I was going to lose you.”
Eden leaned her head against his shoulder.
“How long does it take to rebuild trust?” he asked in a low voice, his arms closing around her more tightly.
“I’m thinking more about starting fresh.”
“Is that possible?” Nick murmured against her hair. “Considering all that’s happened?”
She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Everything in me is telling me to try. Telling me that I’ll be worse off if I don’t.” She felt tears welling, but blinked them back. “That’s why I don’t want to walk away. I’m not done with you yet.”
He drew her against him, holding her tightly, and Eden pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck.
“No easy fix, Nick, but I want to try.”
She felt him smile against her temple. “That sounds real.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later
“HOW DO I LOOK?” Gabe asked Eden.
She reached to straighten the already straight lapels of his lightweight sports jacket. He’d suggested a tie, but she’d squelched that idea, saying a tie in the heat of an Indian summer was not the most relaxed look—even inside an air-conditioned airport.
Nick leaned against the wall next to the lobby newsstand, smiling slightly. Gabe took a few nervous paces, all the while keeping his eyes on the escalator leading down from the airport security area and the flight gates.
“You two can go, you know,” he said suddenly.
Nick pushed off from the wall. “Do you want us to go?”
Gabe shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh…maybe you could kind of hover in the distance.”