by Nora Roberts
and held out a drooping clutch of spring violets. “How’s my sweet baby girl?”
“Poleaxed” was a word Max had used. She now understood it perfectly. “What are you doing here? How did you—” She stopped herself before asking him how he’d gotten in. Ridiculous question seeing as lifting locks was one of his favorite pastimes. “Oh, Dad, what have you done?”
“Now, is that any way to greet your dear old dad after all this time?” He opened his arms wide. “Don’t I get a hug?”
There was a twinkle in his eyes, eyes as blue as her own. His hair—his pride and joy—was stoplight red and combed into a luxurious mane around his wide, cheerful face. Freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks like ginger shaken on cream.
He wore a buffalo check flannel shirt in black and red, and jeans, both of which she imagined he’d selected as a nod to the area, and both of which appeared to have been slept in. The boots he’d paired with them looked painfully new.
He cocked his head and gave her a dreamy, puppy-dog smile.
Her heart had no defense against it. She leaped into his arms, locking herself around him as he squeezed tight and spun into a few giddy circles.
“That’s my girl. That’s my baby. My Princess Lainie of Haraland.”
With her feet still a foot off the floor, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not six anymore, Dad. Or eight, or ten.”
“Still my girl, aren’t you?”
He smelled like cinnamon sticks and had the build of a Yukon grizzly. “Yes, I guess I still am.” She eased back, giving his shoulders a little nudge so he’d set her down. “How did you get here?”
“Trains, planes and automobiles. With the last of it on my own two feet. It’s a place you’ve got here, sweetie pie. Scenic. But did you notice, it’s in the woods?”
It made her smile. “No kidding? Good thing I like the woods.”
“Must get that from your mother. How is she?”
“She’s great.” Laine didn’t know why it always made her feel guilty when he asked, without rancor, with sincere interest. “How long have you been here?”
“Just got in last night. Since I arrived at your woodland paradise late, figured you to be in dreamland, I let myself in. Bunked on your couch, which I should tell you is in sorry shape.” He pressed a hand to his lower back. “Be a lamb, sweetie, and make your daddy some coffee.”
“I was just about . . .” She trailed off as the reminder of coffee cleared her head. Max! “I’m not alone.” Panic trickled her throat. “There’s someone upstairs in the shower.”
“I gathered that from the car in your drive, the fancy piece with New York plates.” He chucked her under the chin. “You’re going to tell me, I hope, that you had a slumber party with an out-of-town girlfriend.”
“I’m twenty-eight. I graduated from slumber parties with girlfriends to having sex with men.”
“Please.” Jack pressed a hand to his heart. “Let’s just say you had a friend spend the night. This is the sort of thing a father needs to take in stages. Coffee, darling? That’s a good girl.”
“All right, all right, but there are things you need to know about . . . my overnight guest.” She got out her bag of beans, poured some into her grinder.
“I already know the most important thing. He’s not good enough for my baby. Nobody could be.”
“This is so complicated. He’s working for Reliance Insurance.”
“So, he’s got a straight job, a nine-to-fiver.” Jack shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can forgive that one.”
“Dad—”
“And we’ll talk about this young man in just a bit.” He sniffed the air as she measured the coffee grounds into the filter. “Best scent in the world. While that’s doing what it’s doing, could you fetch me the package Willy left with you? I’ll keep an eye on the pot.”
She stared at him while all the thoughts, all the words, circled around in her head and coalesced into a single horrible certainty. He didn’t know.
“Dad, I don’t . . . He didn’t . . .” She shook her head. “We’d better sit down.”
“Don’t tell me he hasn’t been by yet.” The faintest flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Man would get lost in his own bathroom without a map, but he’s had more than enough time to get here. If he’d turn his damn cell phone on I’d have gotten in touch, told him there was a change in plans. I hate to tell you, Lainie, but your uncle Willy’s getting old and absentminded.”
No easy way, she thought as the coffee spilled into the pot. No easy way. “Dad, he’s dead.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Just forgetful.”
“Dad.” She gripped his arms, squeezing while she watched the indulgent smile fade from his face. “There was an accident. He was hit by a car. And he . . . he died. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“That can’t be. That’s a mistake.”
“He came into my shop a few days ago. I didn’t recognize him.” She ran her hands along his arms now because they’d begun to tremble. “It’s been so long, I didn’t recognize him. He gave me a number, asked me to call him. I thought he had something to sell, and I was busy so I didn’t pay much attention. Then he left, and just after, just seconds after, it seemed, there were these horrible sounds.”
Jack’s eyes were filling, and hers did the same. “Oh, Dad. It was raining, and he ran into the street. I don’t know why, but he ran out, and the car couldn’t stop. I ran out, and I . . . I realized who he was but it was too late.”
“Oh God. God. God.” He did sit now, lowering into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. “He can’t be gone. Not Willy.”
He rocked himself for comfort while Laine wrapped her arms around him, pressed her cheek to his. “I sent him here. I told him to come because I thought it was . . . Ran out into the street?”
His head came up now. Tears tracked down his cheeks, and she knew he’d never been ashamed of them, or any big emotion. “He wasn’t a child who goes running into the street.”
“But he did. There were witnesses. The woman who hit him was devastated. There was nothing she could do.”
“He ran. If he ran, there was a reason.” He’d gone pale under the tears. “You need to get what he gave you. Get it and give it to me. Don’t tell anyone. You never saw him before in your life, that’s what you say.”
“He didn’t give me anything. Dad, I know about the stones. I know about the New York job.”
His hands were on her shoulders now with a grip strong enough she knew there’d be bruises. “How do you know if he didn’t give you anything?”
“The man who’s upstairs. He works for Reliance. They insured the gems. He’s an investigator.”
“An insurance cop.” He came straight out of the chair. “You’ve got a cop in your shower, for the sake of Jesus!”
“He tracked Willy here, and he connected him to me. To you and me. He only wants to recover the stones. He’s not interested in turning you in. Just give me what you have, and I’ll take care of this.”
“You’re sleeping with a cop? My own daughter?”
“I don’t think this is the time to go into that. Dad, someone broke into my house, into my shop because they’re looking for the stones. I don’t have them.”
“It’s that bastard Crew. That murdering bastard.” His eyes were still wet and swimming, but there was fire behind them. “You don’t know anything, do you hear me? You don’t know anything, you haven’t seen me. You haven’t spoken to me. I’ll take care of this, Laine.”
“You can’t take care of it. Dad, you’re in terrible trouble. The stones aren’t worth it.”
“Half of twenty-eight million’s worth quite a bit, and that’s what I’ll have to bargain with once I find out what Willy did with his. He didn’t give you anything? Say anything?”
“He told me to hide the pouch, but he didn’t give me one.”
“Pouch? He took them out?”
“I just said he didn’t give me a pouch.
He was . . . fading, and it was hard to understand him. At first I thought he said ‘pooch.’ ”
“That’s it.” Some of the animation came back into his face. “His share is in the dog.”
“The dog?” Genuine shock had her voice squeaking. “You fed diamonds to a dog?”
“Not a real dog. God almighty, Lainie, what do you take us for?”
She simply covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know.”
“It’s in a statue of a dog, little black-and-white dog. Cops probably have his things. Cops probably have it and don’t know what they’ve got. I can work with that.”
“Dad—”
“I don’t want you to worry. No one’s going to bother you again. No one’s going to touch my little girl. Just stay quiet about it, and I’ll handle the rest.” He gave her a hug, a kiss. “I’ll just get my bag and be gone.”
“You can’t just go,” she protested as she hurried after him. “Max says Crew is dangerous.”
“Max is the insurance narc?”
“Yes.” She glanced nervously toward the steps. “No, he’s not a narc.”
“Whatever, he’s not wrong about Crew. Man doesn’t think I know who he is,” Jack muttered. “What he did. Figured I’d swallow his fake names and fairy story whole. Been in the game since I could talk, haven’t I?” Jack slung a duffel over his shoulder. “I should never have gotten tangled with him, but well, twenty-eight million, give or take, makes for strange bedfellows. Now I’ve gotten Willy killed over it.”
“You didn’t. It’s not your fault.”
“I took the job knowing who Crew was though he called himself Martin Lyle. Knowing he was dangerous and planning a double cross all along, I took the job. Willy came with me. But I’ll fix it. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, then moved to the front door.
“Wait. Just wait and talk to Max.”
“I don’t think so.” He let out a snort at the idea. “And do us both a favor, princess.” Now he tapped a finger to her lips. “I was never here.”
She could hear him whistling “Bye Bye Blackbird” as he set off at a jog. He’d always moved well for a big man. Before she knew it, he’d rounded the curve of her lane and was gone.
As if he’d never been there.
She closed the door, rested her forehead against it. Everything ached: her head, her body, her heart. There’d been tears in his eyes still when he trotted away. Tears for Willy. He’d grieve, she knew. He’d blame himself. And in that state, he might do something stupid.
No, not stupid, she corrected and wandered into the kitchen to pace aimlessly. Reckless, foolish, but not stupid.
She couldn’t have stopped him. Even if she’d begged, pleaded, even if she’d turned on the tears herself. He’d have carried the weight of them when he walked away, but he’d have walked.
Yes, he’d always moved well for a big man.
She heard Max coming toward the kitchen and hurriedly reached into the cupboard for mugs.
“Right on time,” she said brightly. “Coffee’s just up.”
“Morning coffee’s got to be one of life’s best smells.”
She turned then, stared at him as his words echoed her father’s in her mind. His hair was still damp from the shower. Her shower. He’d smell like her soap. He’d slept in her bed. He’d been inside her.
She’d given him all that. But after a ten-minute visit from her father, she was holding back trust, and truth.
“My father was here.” She blurted it out before she could question herself.
He set down the mug he’d just picked up. “What?”
“He just left. Minutes ago. And I realized I wasn’t going to tell you, wasn’t going to say anything. I was going to cover for him. It’s conditioning, I guess. Or partly. I love him. I’m sorry.”
“Jack O’Hara was here? He’s been in the house, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you. I don’t expect you to understand what a step this is for me, but I’m telling you.” She tried to pour coffee, but her hands were shaking. “Don’t hurt him, Max. I couldn’t stand it if you hurt him.”
“Let’s just back up a square here. Your father was here, in this house, and you cooked me dinner, went to bed with me. I’m upstairs making love to you and he’s hiding out—”
“No! No! I didn’t know he was here until this morning. I don’t know when he got here, let himself in. He slept on the couch. I let Henry out, and when I walked into the kitchen again, there he was.”
“Then what the hell are you apologizing to me for?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“For what, three minutes? Jesus Christ, Laine. You put that kind of honesty bar up for us, I’m going to keep rapping my head on it. Give me a break.”
“I’m very confused.”
“He’s been your father for twenty-eight years. I’ve been the guy in love with you for about two days. I think I can cut you some slack. Okay?”
She let out a shuddering breath. “Okay.”
“That’s the end of the slack. What did he say, what did he want, where did he go?”
“He didn’t know about Willy.” Her lips trembled before she managed to press them together. “He cried.”
“Sit down, Laine, I’ll get the coffee. Sit down and take a minute.”
She did what he asked as everything that had been aching was now shaking. She sat, stared at her hands while she listened to liquid hitting stoneware. “I think I might be in love with you, too. It’s probably an awkward time to mention that.”
“I like hearing it.” He set the mug in front of her, then sat. “Whatever the time.”
“I’m not playing you, Max. I need you to know that.”
“Baby, I bet you’re good at it. Considering. But you’re not that good.”
The cocky tone was just what was needed to dry up threatening tears. She looked at him then with a definite flash of amused arrogance. “Oh yeah, I am. I could swindle you out of your life savings, your heart, your pride, and make you believe it was your idea to hand them over with a bow on top. But since it looks like the only thing I’m interested in is your heart, I’d rather it really be your idea. Jack could never play it straight with my mother. He loved her. Still does, for that matter. But he could never play it straight, even with her. So they didn’t make it. If you and I go into this, I want the odds in our favor.”
“Then let’s start by figuring out how to handle your father.”
She nodded and picked up the coffee he’d brought her. She would be steady, and she would be straight. “He sent Willy here to give me a share of the take. For safekeeping, from what I can gather. You should know that if that had gone through, I’d have taken the stones, then passed them back to him. I’d have given him considerable grief about it, but I’d’ve done it.”
“Blood’s thick,” Max acknowledged.
“From what I can gather, he got worried because Willy didn’t call him—and his, Willy’s, cell phone’s been off. So he changed the plan, came here to pick up the dog.”
“What dog?”
“See, it was a pooch, not a pouch. Or, the pouch is in the pooch. God, it sounds like a bad comedy routine. But I didn’t get the pooch with the pouch, so my father figures the cops scooped it up with Willy’s effects. And he believes Crew—he verified Crew, by the way—tracked Willy here, just like you did, and that’s what spooked Willy and had him running into the street.”
“There’s not enough coffee in the world,” Max murmured. “Go back to the dog.”
“Oh, it’s not an actual dog. It’s a figurine of a dog. It’s one of Jack’s old gambits. Hide the take in something ordinary so it can be passed—and passed over by whoever’s looking to get it back—until the heat’s off. Once he hid a cache of rare coins inside my teddy bear. We strolled right out of the apartment building, chatted with the doorman and walked away with a hundred and twenty-five
large inside Paddington.”
“He took you on a job?”
His very real shock had her lowering her gaze to her coffee mug. “I didn’t have what you’d call a standard childhood.”
Max closed his eyes. “Where’s he going, Laine?”
“I don’t know.” She reached out, covered his hand with hers until their eyes met. “I swear I don’t know. He told me not to worry, that he’d take care of everything.”
“Vince Burger has Willy’s effects?”
“Don’t tell him, Max, please don’t. He’ll have no choice but to arrest Jack if he shows up. I can’t have any part in that. You and