by Unknown
“Thank you.” Her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. “My late husband loved to experiment with new dishes and spices. If it didn’t work, he’d take it off the menu.” She smiled. “I finally convinced him to stop putting items on the permanent menu until he was sure they would stay.”
“Are you a good cook?” Rafael asked. He wondered if she was aware of how many times she’d mentioned her late husband.
“I like to think so.”
“Do you have any dishes on the menu?” he asked.
“Two, actually.” A tentative smile touched lips painted raspberry. “The bread pudding with bourbon sauce and the caramel pecan cheesecake have been on the menu for some time now.”
“Here’s your tea, Officer Dunlap,” Clarice said. “Nathalyia, your bottled water and strawberry lemonade. I can take your order if you’re ready.”
Nathalyia glanced up at Clarice, then toward the bar.
Clarice smiled. “I have it covered. You know Jake wouldn’t let me neglect my tables even if I wanted to, which I never would.”
“Sorry,” Nathalyia said, picking up the glass of strawberry lemonade. “Thank you for this, and for taking the order for Officer Dun—”
“Rafael.”
“Rafael,” she said slowly, as if testing the words. “Are you ready to order?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go with your suggestions.” He folded his arms and leaned across the table. “I don’t have any food allergies, and I love food.”
“All right, but I need to know your preference.”
Her, hot and willing in his bed. “I’m listening.”
As if she’d read his mind, she twisted in her seat. “We have cold, hot, and oyster appetizers,” she told him. “Salad? Gumbo? Would you like your main dish fried, from the grill, or one of our Cajun specialties? We also have steak, chicken, and fish. The mahimahi is the chef’s special today. Which would you prefer?”
You, any way and every day, he thought. One thing was for certain, he wasn’t about to say oysters. “Hot appetizer, salad, gumbo, fried seafood, and for dessert we can share the bread pudding and caramel pecan cheesecake.”
“I suggest the crab cakes, a small Fontaine’s Greek salad, a cup of shrimp gumbo, followed by the seafood platter with dirty rice and broccoli.”
“I’ll turn your order in right away.” Clarice moved away.
“Is the street fair the only event you have as a fund-raiser for Helping Hands?” he asked, truly interested. He knew a few families who had children with life-threatening illnesses and had seen how emotionally and financially difficult it had been for them.
“Yes.” Her hand touched an orchid petal. “I was going over the final tallies just before you arrived.” She smiled, warm and open. “We’re up over twenty-five percent from last year.”
“Here are your salads and hot bread with butter.” A young server set the food on the table and pulled a pepper mill from beneath his arm. “Pepper, sir?”
“No, thank you,” Rafael said. The server nodded and picked up the deck tray and left, easily weaving though the tables. “I’ll say grace.”
Once again, Nathalyia looked startled. “Of course.”
Rafael bowed his head and blessed their food. Looking up, he reached for his cloth napkin. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t.” She placed her napkin in her lap. “I was just surprised.”
He picked up his fork and grinned across the table at her. “You thought I was a heathen?”
His remark drew a smile from her. “Not at all.” She cut wedges of bread for both of them. “Have you been on the police force long?”
He accepted the bread and spread butter on it. “Eight years. The last five with S.O.R.T., an acronym for the Special Operations Response Team.”
She paused from eating her salad. “What do you do?”
“Negotiate.”
She stared wide-eyed across the table at him. “You’re a negotiator?”
He shrugged. “I like to think I do a better job than I did with you Friday night.”
She glanced away. “It wouldn’t have made any difference. I’m too busy to think about dating.”
A waiter arrived to take away his empty salad plate and placed a cup of shrimp gumbo in front of him. “Anything else, sir?”
“No, thanks.” Rafael picked up his spoon and looked back at Nathalyia. “The service here is fantastic. I have a feeling it isn’t just because you’re sitting here.”
Pleasure spread across her face. “Thank you. The cornerstone of Fontaine is exemplary service and extraordinary food.”
Rafael ate another bite of gumbo. “I can attest to both. Back to dating, you don’t have time to go for a walk, a boat ride, a movie?”
“No.” She motioned that she was finished with her salad. More than half remained. The waiter removed her dish and served her gumbo.
He’d met few women who were so dedicated to their jobs. “What does your family think about you running the restaurant?”
The hand reaching for the bottled water paused. “I’m an only child. My parents died when I was young.”
She was lying, and not very good at it. What was she hiding?
“How about your family?” she asked to end the silence as she bent her head to eat her gumbo.
“I have four brothers, all policemen,” he told her. “We’re extremely close. The oldest, Sam, lives here. The next two are in Charleston where they met their wives.” His lips quirked. “Alec, my older brother, met his fiancée there as well. They’re having a Christmas wedding.”
Interest shone in her beautiful eyes. “They all met their wives in Charleston? Were they on vacation?”
“Patrick, next to the oldest, moved there and purchased our niece Brooke’s condo when she married. Incidentally, she met her husband there as well.” He finished his gumbo. “I guess she started the wedding craze. Simon, the next brother, went there to help the police department with their high burglary rate. He met his future wife when her home was robbed.”
“And Alec?” she questioned.
Rafael waited as the waiter placed the huge platter of seafood in front of him. There were fried shrimp, catfish filets, dirty rice, and broccoli. He noticed she had a single filet of grilled catfish with a floret of broccoli. “Are you on a diet?”
“I’m not very hungry,” she said, picking up her fork. “I told the kitchen what I wanted earlier. How did Alec meet his fiancée?”
She’d only eaten a few bites of the gumbo. She wasn’t frail. Her skin looked healthy.
“You’re staring.”
“Trying to figure out if I should slide some of this onto your plate,” he admitted.
“I told you I’m not hungry.” She took a dainty bite of fish. “About your brother?”
Her fork shook the tiniest bit. She was nervous. He couldn’t imagine a successful businesswoman being nervous—unless she was dealing with something she had never faced before.
“Alec met Celeste while he was building a gazebo for Simon and his wife at their house while they were on their honeymoon. Celeste was redecorating the master suite at the time.”
“Your family sounds wonderful. How did you all become policemen?”
Since she was really eating, he didn’t mind answering her questions. He didn’t usually talk about his family to his dates. It seemed too personal.
“Our daddy was a policeman. He was a great guy and a wonderful father. We lost him ten years ago. Our mother followed six months later.” He looked out at the distant ocean. “She missed him so much. I remember her saying that we had each other so she wouldn’t worry about us.”
He felt a warm hand on his and jerked around, but it was already gone. Her unexpected gesture was comforting. He started to tell her thank you, but she’d looked down to her plate again. She might have regretted reaching out to him.
He’d always miss his parents, but they had a special love and he tried to understood what his mother mea
nt. They were buried the way they wanted: with his mother’s coffin on top of his father’s, as if in the embrace they had shared so often. “What about your parents?”
“Both gone. An automobile accident.” Lifting her head, she reached for her water, raising it to her lips and effectively obscuring her face.
He’d meant the emotional ties. She’d given him another lie. What was she hiding? If he really wanted to, he could find the answer. Since they had down time when their unit wasn’t needed, all of the officers on his team had desk duty.
Rafael conducted background checks on applicants to the police department. He had access to computer banks all over the country. He could have a complete file on her in less than twenty-four hours.
“You’re a very fortunate man, Offi— Rafael,” she amended.
He heard the wistfulness in her voice. Instinctively he knew her childhood hadn’t been happy. “I saw a carnival setting up their stands on the way over here. How about we go when you can get away?”
A strange expression crossed her face. “I’m already going—with the families of the children of Helping Hands. I was able to contact the owner and get him to have a private night for Helping Hands. The children will have special badges that will allow them to go to the head of the line for rides and have any food free—if they have their doctor’s permission.”
“Those small carnivals don’t make that much,” Rafael mused. “He’s donating all that food?”
“Not exactly, but it’s taken care of.” She leaned back in her chair. “Last year I was able to take them to the circus.”
It clicked. Nathalyia was footing the bill. “You’re one special woman.”
She blinked. “I—”
“Do you need a volunteer?” he asked.
“If you weren’t trying to date me, would you have asked?”
A fair and smart question. “I honestly don’t know. Simon has a teenage basketball team and I usually donate money. I do know that I’d like to help.” The words were barely out of his mouth before his cell phone played “Bad Boys,” the theme song of the television show Cops.
“Excuse me.” He pulled out his cell, already knowing what the call would entail. “Dunlap.” Rafael listened. “ETA fifteen minutes.” He disconnected the phone, rising to his feet. “Please excuse me. I have to go.”
She came to her feet as well. He thought he saw a flash of regret in her open face. “I understand.”
He briefly” touched her bare arm. Her skin felt like warm silk. “Lunch was wonderful. Thank you.” He strode from the restaurant.
Nathalyia stared after him, then turned and began clearing the table. Expertly, she stacked their plates, glasses, and flatware.
Frowning, Clarice rushed over. “Did he say something off-color? Why did he rush out of here?” Clarice asked, hands on her hips.
“He got a phone call. He said he had to leave.”
“Oh, my God!” Clarice palmed her mouth.
“What?” Nathalyia swung around.
“He didn’t tell you what he does?”
“Yes, he—” Nathalyia’s eyes rounded. Her hands shook, causing the plates and glasses to rattle. “I thought the call might have been one of his brothers.”
Clarice took everything from Nathalyia’s unsteady hands. “Maybe it was, but I don’t think anything but police business would have gotten him away from you.”
Nathalyia bit her lower lip. “We were just talking. You don’t think he’s in danger, do you? He didn’t look concerned.”
“Rafael struck me as the kind of man who can take care of himself. Don’t worry.” Clarice put the service pieces on the table and picked up the bouquet. “You take your flowers and go to your office. He’ll be back later, and you can finish your meal, have dessert, and show him around the restaurant.”
Nathalyia clutched the orchids closer and went to her office, praying each step of the way.
THREE
Rafael turned into the drive of the gated community and was waved on by a policeman standing near a patrol car halfway blocking the entrance. With onlookers and residents trying to get into the estate, the patrolman had his hands full, but no one was getting though until everything was under control.
There was no telling how long that would be. Domestic situations were unpredictable. James Powell had taken his wife hostage and was threatening to kill her. Rafael would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.
Rafael knew that an officer had already gone door-to-door to ask residents to remain inside until the standoff was over. A few residents would comply, but there were many who would come outside to try to see what was going on. Just like the man across the street standing behind a bright yellow Mini Cooper.
Rafael pulled up behind a patrol car, shut off the motor, and went to the trunk of his car for his bulletproof vest. No shots had been fired, but the angry husband was reported to have a handgun.
Fastening the vest as he went, he quickly approached the command center. The challenge of a negotiator was to get the person to stop and think. It didn’t always happen. “Any change?”
“It’s been quiet,” Lieutenant Hines answered. He was the shift supervisor. Rafael’s unit was on its way. The goal was always maximum control with minimum force.
The two-story stone-and-brick house resembled a small castle with a turret. The lawn was green, the shrubbery neatly trimmed, the borders edged with colorful flowers. The house looked deceptively peaceful.
Hines shook his head. “You’d think people would learn.” He snorted. “It’s the same old stupid story with a few variations. Powell came home early from a business trip to find his wife in bed with his younger brother, Broderick, who’s out of work and staying with them. The brother ran when the husband lunged for the wife.”
“That’s says a lot about Powell’s brother,” Rafael said as he studied the windows of the house. They were all covered with closed wooden blinds except the four narrow ones in the turret.
“Apparently, the husband has a license for the gun. He either had it on him or went to get it when he saw what was going on,” the supervisor said. He glanced at the back of a police car several lengths behind them. The top of a man’s dark head could be seen.
“The mailman was driving by when Broderick—that’s the brother—ran naked out of the house. He called nine-one-one. That was thirty minutes ago. A patrolman was here in five minutes. When he went to the door, he was told, and I quote, ‘Back off or I’ll kill the cheating bitch.’ We called your commander.”
“Are we patched in?”
Hines handed Rafael the cell phone. “Yes, but Powell won’t answer.”
Rafael’s gaze went to the car with the brother inside. “The husband’s hurt. Angry. I wouldn’t answer the phone either.”
“What next?” the supervisor asked.
“Let me talk to the brother.” Rafael went to the car and opened the door. A slim black man lifted his close-shaven head. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A knee poked out.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said, licking his lips. “She came on to me.”
Rafael kept his expression carefully blank. He didn’t have to think about the impossible happening and any of his brothers’ wives making a pass at him. He’d walk. “Mr. Powell, it’s my business to get your brother and sister-in-law out safely, not to point blame. I just need to know something about him, what kind of man he is.”
Down went the man’s head. “He’s a hard worker. Always has been.” His head came up. “Vanessa always talks about how much time he spends at the office or on the road.”
“Is Vanessa his wife?”
“Yeah.”
Rafael would bet anything Vanessa had no problems spending the money those long hours brought in. “Any children?”
“James Jr. J.R., we call him. He’s from James’s first marriage. Anita died in childbirth.”
“How old and where is he?”
“Seven. He’s at a special overnig
ht camp for asthmatics. Maybe it will get him to lose some weight. He’s too fat, just like James.”
The man didn’t have one ounce of backbone or morality. “What’s your brother’s temperament?”
The man shrugged. “He’s cool—until now.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen him like that. Yelling and waving that gun, crying.” He hunched into the blanket. “I thought he was going to kill me. I’m his brother.”
A brother who cheated with his wife. “So you ran.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. James is good with that gun. It’s her fault,” he shouted, then looked away. “He loves her. Gives her anything she wants. He’ll calm down.”
“And if he doesn’t? If he’s too hurt to think clearly?” Rafael asked, getting a pretty good picture of the selfish man sitting in front of him.
The man gulped, shook his head. “Lord, I never thought. Never. What’s gonna happen when Mama finds out?”
Rafael pulled out his cell. The man’s eyes bugged. “If I called her, what would she say?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m trying to save two people’s lives. You had a hand in this,” Rafael told him.
“You haven’t seen her. She’s built, ten years younger than James is, and likes showing off her body in those skimpy clothes, teasing me when he’s not around. I couldn’t help myself.”
Disgust rolled through Rafael. “What would your mother say?”
“What she always says,” he spat. “She’s always on James’s side. James made something out of his life. James is successful. James makes her proud. It’s always about James. If I could get a break, I’d be the man, too.”
“A real man doesn’t bed his brother’s wife.” Rafael closed the door, and went back to the car to call the house again. After twenty rings, he hung up, just as his team pulled up behind the cruiser. The members piled out as the field supervisor gave his commander an update.
Rafael didn’t want to use the bullhorn. The neighbors would find out soon enough, but he didn’t want James Powell thinking about the humiliating situation for too long.