Waiting for Nick

by Nora Roberts

  It took her every bit of an hour to pull herself together. She hoped Nick would consider the off-the-shoulder plum silk jazzy enough. She did wish they’d arranged to meet at her place, however, when she narrowly avoided getting her heel caught in the sidewalk.

  She breezed past Rio with a wave, and a quick pirouette when he whistled at her. A quick knock at the top of the stairs, and she walked in.

  “This time you’re late,” she called out.

  “Had to help Zack with a delivery.”

  “Oh.” She nibbled on her lip. “I didn’t even think about your shift.”

  “It’s my night off.” He strolled out of the bedroom, still tugging on his jacket. He gave her a long look and a nod of approval. “Very nice.”

  “You’ve got such a way with compliments, Nicholas.”

  “How about this?” He grabbed her, lifted her to her toes and kissed her until her head threatened to blow off her shoulders.

  “Okay,” she said when she could breathe again. “That’s pretty good.”

  Abruptly nervous, he let her go again. “We’ve got enough time before curtain for a drink. Why don’t I play your personal bartender?”

  “Why don’t you, then? A little white wine—bartender’s choice.”

  “I think I’ve got something you’ll approve of.” He’d snagged the bottle of Cristal from Zack’s stash.

  “Well.” Freddie’s eyes widened. “This is certainly turning into a night to remember.”

  “That’s the idea.” He decided he liked surprising her. Doing something out of the ordinary for her. He popped the cork with an expert’s flourish, and poured it into two flutes he’d commandeered from the bar. “To family ties,” he said, and touched his glass to hers.

  She smiled as she lifted her own glass. “What kind of a mood are you in? I can’t quite pin it down.”

  That stirring was going on again, needs and longings tangling together in his stomach, just around his heart. “I’m not so sure myself.”

  And the fact that he wasn’t didn’t make him as nervous as it should have. Because he was happy. Incredibly, completely happy. And he only got happier every time he looked at her.

  He was certain he could go on looking at her for a lifetime.

  And when that unexpected curve rounded like a fastball in his stomach, his breath caught and wheezed out slowly.

  “Are you all right?” Solicitous, Freddie thumped him on the back.

  “I’m fine.” Love. A lifetime. “I’m…fine.”

  Now it was her turn for nerves, so she took a small step back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’ve never seen me before.”

  “I don’t know.” But that was a lie. He hadn’t seen her before, not through the eyes of a man flustered by love.

  He had, he realized, done the most amazing thing. He’d fallen head over heels in love with his closest friend.

  “Let’s sit down.” He needed to.

  “All right.” Cautious, she settled on the sofa. “Nick, if you’re not feeling well, we can take a rain check on the show.”

  “No, I’m fine. Didn’t I say I was fine?”

  “You don’t look fine. You’re pale.”

  He supposed he was. He’d never been in love before. He’d danced around it, toyed with it, teased the edges of it. But now it looked as though he’d fallen headfirst into the pit.

  With Fred.

  He was just getting used to the fact that he could make love to her. But being in love was going to take a lot more thought. It was a pity he couldn’t wrap his brain around anything that wasn’t sheer emotion.

  “Fred…things have moved pretty fast between us.”

  She lifted a brow. “Do you call a decade-plus fast?”

  He waved that away. “You know what I mean. I was thinking that I might be hemming you in, between the work and everything else.”

  The shiver that ran up her spine was icy and full of fear. But her voice was calm enough. “Are you trying to let me down gently, Nick?”

  “No.” The very thought appalled him. Losing her now—it was unthinkable. “No,” he repeated, and gripped her hand so tightly she jolted. “I want you, Fred. I’m just beginning to realize how much.”

  Her heart turned slowly over in her breast, and swelled. “You have me, Nick,” she said quietly. “You always have.”

  “Things have changed.” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it, not in a way that would satisfy them both. But he had to let her know something of what he was feeling. “Not just because we’ve gone to bed together. Not just because what I have with you there is different, stronger than anything I’ve ever had before.”

  “Nick.” Swamped with love, she lifted their joined hands to her cheek. “You’ve never said anything like that to me before. I never thought you would.”

  Neither had he. Now, all at once, he was afraid he wouldn’t get the words, the right ones, out fast enough. “I don’t want to push things, Fred, for either of us, but I think you should know—”

  The thud of heavy footsteps on the stairs had Nick swearing and Freddie cursing fate. Neither of them moved when Rio opened the door, looking grim.

  “Nick, you’d better come downstairs.”

  A hard fist of fear rammed into his throat. “Zack?”

  “No, it’s not Zack.” Rio glanced apologetically at Fred. “But you’d better come.”

  “Stay here,” Nick ordered Fred, but Rio countermanded him.

  “No, she should come, too. She can help.” As Nick passed him, Rio clamped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s Marla.”

  Nick hesitated, looked back at Freddie. There was no way to keep her out of it. “How bad is she?”

  Rio only shook his head and waited for Nick and Freddie to precede him.

  The name meant nothing to Freddie. She thought it might be some old flame who’d stormed into the bar in a jealous or, worse, drunken rage.

  But the tableau that greeted her in the kitchen wiped that image out of her head.

  The woman was dark, thin, and had probably been pretty once, before trouble and fatigue dug lines into her face. But it was hard to tell much of anything, because of the bruises.

  She sat absolutely still, a young, hollow-eyed boy gripping the back of her chair, a smaller girl sitting at her feet, with her thumb in her mouth. In the woman’s lap, a baby of perhaps three months cried thinly.

  Nick wanted to shout at her, to rage. He wanted to shake this woman, this girl he had once known and nearly loved, until she lost that empty, hopelessly beaten look. Instead, he went to her, gently lifted her chin. The first tear spilled over onto her cheek as she looked at him.

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “You never have to be sorry for coming here. Hey, Carlo.” He tried a smile on the boy. Though he laid a hand very lightly on the boy’s shoulders, Carlo still stiffened and drew inward.

  Big hands, the child knew, were never to be trusted.

  “And who’s this big girl. Is this Jenny?” Nick picked the girl up, set her on his hip. With her thumb still in her mouth, she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Rio, why don’t you grill up some burgers for the kids?”

  “Already on.”

  “Jenny, want to sit on the counter and watch Rio cook?” When she nodded, Nick settled her there. It only took a look to have Carlo creeping over, and out of the way.

  “I don’t want to be any trouble to you, Nick,” Marla began, rousing herself to rock the baby.

  “Want some coffee?” Without waiting for her assent, he walked to the pot. “The baby’s hungry, Marla.”

  “I know.” With what seemed like a terrible effort, she shifted, reaching for the paper bag at her feet. “I can’t nurse her. I’m dried up. But I got some formula.”

  “Why don’t I fix it?” With a bolstering smile, Freddie held out her arms. “Is it all right if I hold her?”

/>   “Sure. She’s a good baby, really. It’s just that…” She trailed off and began to weep without a sound.

  “You’re going to be all right now,” Freddie murmured as she slipped the baby out of Marla’s hold. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

  “I’m so tired,” Marla managed. “It’s just that I’m tired.”

  “Don’t.” The order was quick and harsh as Nick set the coffee in front of her. “He knocked you around again, didn’t he?”

  “Nick.” Freddie sent a warning glance at the children.

  “You think they don’t know what’s going on?” But he lowered his voice. “Welcome to reality.” He sat beside Marla, took her hands and set them around the cup. “Are you going to call the cops this time?”

  “I can’t, Nick.” His snort of disgust seemed to shrink her. “I don’t know what he’d do if I did. He gets crazy, Nick. You know how crazy Reece gets when he’s drinking.”

  “Yeah.” Absently he rubbed a hand over his chest. He had the scars to remind him. “You told me you were going to leave him, Marla.”

  “I did. I swear I did. I wouldn’t lie to you, Nick. I’ve been in that apartment you helped me get before the baby was born. I wouldn’t take him back, not after the last time.”

  The last time, Nick recalled, Reece had knocked her down the stairs. She’d been six months pregnant.

  “So how’d you get the split lip, the black eye?”

  She looked wearily down at her coffee, lifted it mechanically to drink. Rio set a plate in front of her.

  “I’m going to take the kids inside to eat.”

  “Thanks.” She swiped at another tear. “You two be good, you hear? Don’t make any trouble for Mr. Rio.” She nearly smiled as Freddie sat down to feed the baby. “Her name’s Dorothy—like in The Wizard of Oz. The kids picked it out.”

  “She’s a lovely baby.”

  “Good as gold. Hardly ever cries, and sleeps right through the night.”

  Nick interrupted her, patience straining. “Marla.”

  In response, Marla took one shuddering breath. “He’s been calling me, wanting to see the kids, he said.”

  “He doesn’t give a damn about those kids.”

  “I know it.” Marla’s lip trembled, but she managed to firm it. “So do they. But he sounded so sad on the phone, and he came by once and bought them ice cream. So I hoped, maybe, this time…”

  She trailed off, knowing that hope was more than foolish. It was deadly.

  “I wasn’t going to take him back, or anything. It just seemed as if I should let him see the kids now and again. As long as I was right there to make sure he didn’t drink or get mean. But tonight, when he came around, I was in the bedroom with the baby, and Jenny let him in. It was too late, Nick. I could see right away he was drunk, and I told him to get out. But it was too late.”

  “Okay. Take it slow.” He rose to wrap some ice for her swollen lip.

  But she couldn’t take it slow, not now that it was pouring out of her. Like poison she’d been forced to drink. “He just started smashing things and screaming. I got the kids into the bedroom, got them away so he wouldn’t hurt them. That only made him madder. So he went after me. I don’t know how I got away from him, but I got into the bedroom with the kids, locked the doors. We got out by the fire escape. And we ran.”

  “Nick,” Freddie murmured. “Take the baby.” She rose, passing him the dozing infant. “Let’s clean you up,” she said briskly, and ran water on a cloth. With gentle hands, she smoothed it over Marla’s face.

  As she tried to soothe the bruises, clean the cuts, she talked softly. About Marla’s children, caring for a new baby. When she felt Marla begin to respond, she sat again, took the woman’s hand.

  “There are places you can go. Safe places, for you and your children.”

  “She needs to call the cops.” However fierce his voice, Nick cradled the sleeping baby tenderly on his shoulder.

  “I don’t disagree with him.” Freddie picked up the wrapped ice, offered it to Marla. “But I think I understand being afraid. They’d help you at a women’s shelter. Help your children.”

  “Nick said I should go before, but I thought it was better to handle it on my own.”

  “Everybody needs help sometime.”

  Marla closed her eyes and tried to find some tattered rag of courage. “I can’t let him hurt my kids, not anymore. I’ll go if you say it’s right to, Nick.”

  It was more than he’d expected. He knew he owed part of the win to Freddie’s quiet support. “Fred, upstairs, in the drawer under the kitchen phone, there’s a number. It says Karen over it. Call it, ask for her, and explain the situation.”

  “All right.” As she walked away, she heard Marla begin weeping again.

  She’d hardly completed the arrangements when Nick came in.

  He took a moment to study her—the slim woman in the elegant dress. “I’m going to dump on you, Fred. I’m sorry our whole evening is shot, and it’s not over yet.”

  “It’s all right, but I don’t know what you mean. Oh, Nick, that poor woman.”

  His eyes only darkened. “I want you to take her and the kids to the shelter. They’re not too happy having a man come around there in the first place. Small wonder. I’d feel better knowing you were with her, saw her settled in.”

  “Of course, I’d be glad to. I’ll come back as soon as—”

  “No, go home.” The order snapped out. “Just go home when you’re done. I’ve got something to do.”

  “But, Nick…”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you.” He strode out, slamming the door behind him.

  He had something to do, all right. And Nick figured it would take very little legwork to locate his old gang captain. Reece still ran in the same circles they had when they were teenagers. He still haunted the same streets and the same dingy rooms where a few dollars would buy anyone of any age drugs, liquor or a woman.

  He found Reece huddled over a whiskey in a dive less than fifteen blocks from Lower the Boom.

  The atmosphere wasn’t designed to draw a discerning clientele. The air was choked with smoke and grease, the floors littered with butts and peanut shells. And the drinks were as cheap as the single hooker at the end of the bar, staring glassily into her gin.

  “Reece.”

  He’d put on weight over the years. Not the muscle of maturity, but the heaviness of the drunk. He turned slowly on the stool, the sneer already in his eyes before it twisted his mouth.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the upstanding LeBeck. Bring my friend a gentleman’s drink, Gus, and hit me again. Put ’em both on his tab.” The thought struck Reece so funny, he nearly rolled off the stool.

  “Save it,” Nick told the bartender.

  “Too good to have a drink with an old friend, LeBeck?”

  “I don’t drink with people who shoot me, Reece.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t aiming at you.” Reece tossed back his whiskey and slapped the empty glass on the bar as a signal for another. “And I served my time, remember? Five years, three months, ten days.” He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and pulled one out with his teeth. “You’re not still sore I hooked up with Marla, are you? She always had a thing for me, old buddy. Hell, I was doing her back when you thought she was your one and only.”

  “A smart man learns to forget about yesterday, Reece. But you were never too smart. But it’s Marla we’re going to deal with. Here and now.”

  “My old lady’s my business. So are the brats.”

  “Was, maybe.” The wolf was in Nick’s eyes now, as he leaned closer to Reece. And the wolf had fangs. “You’re not going near them again. Ever. If you do, I’ll have to kill you.” It was said quietly, with a casualness that made the bartender check for his Louisville Slugger, just under the cash register.

  Reece only snorted. He remembered Nick from the old days. He’d never had the guts to follow through on a threat with any real meat. “The bitch come
running to you again?”

  “I guess you figure she got off easy—a split lip, a few bruises. She didn’t have to go into the hospital this time.”

  “A man’s got a right to show his wife who’s in charge.” Brooding over it, Reece swirled his liquor. “She’s always asking for it. She knew I didn’t want that last brat. Hell, the first one ain’t even mine, but I took her on, didn’t I? Her and that damn little bastard. So don’t you come around telling me I can’t teach my own woman what’s what.”

  “I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you.” Nick rose. “Stand up, Reece.”

  Reece’s reddened eyes began to gleam at the possibility of spilling blood. “Going to take me on, bro?”

  “Stand up,” Nick repeated. Seeing the bartender make a move out of the corner of his eye, Nick reached for his wallet. He pulled out bills, tossed them on the bar. “That should cover the damages.”

  The bartender scooped up the money, counted it and nodded. “I got no problem with that.”

  “You’ve been needing the high-and-mighty beat out of you, LeBeck.” Reece slid off his stool, crouched. “I’m just the one to do it.”

  It wasn’t pretty. At first blood, the hooker deserted her gin and crept out the door. The few others who inhabited the bar stood back and prepared to enjoy.

  Drunk he might be, but the whiskey only made Reece more vicious. His meaty fist caught Nick at the temple, shooting jagged lights behind his eyes, and then another fist plowed into his gut. Nick doubled over, but as he came up again, his fist drove hard into Reece’s jaw.

  He followed through methodically, cold-bloodedly, concentrating on the face. Blood spurted out of Reece’s nose as he tumbled back against a table. Wood splintered under his weight.

  With a roar of outrage, Reece charged Nick like a bull, head lowered, fists pumping. Nick evaded the first rush, landed a fresh blow. But in the narrow confines of the bar, there was little room to maneuver. Outweighed, he went down hard under Reece’s lunge.

  He felt Reece’s hands around his neck, choking off air. Ears buzzing, he pried at them, sucking in air and gathering strength to drive a short-armed punch. Reece’s teeth tore his knuckles, but he continued to hammer, almost blindly now, until the stranglehold loosened.