by Maria Luis
Unless . . .
“Jesus Christ.” His hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly he was surprised it didn’t snap. “Anna—”
“This is it.” She pointed to an Arts-&-Craftsman house to their right. “You can pull up behind that car.”
He did so, steering wheel still clenched tight under his palm. “Anna,” he tried again, “please tell me that I’m wrong. That Mardeaux isn’t Julian’s—”
“Father?” Her voice was quiet, resigned. “I wish that I could tell you that he wasn’t.”
Before he had the chance to respond, she was out of the car and charging up the short walkway to her front door. Get your head back into gear, he warned himself before climbing out of the car.
His hip twinged as his left foot hit the walkway at an odd angle, and he bit back a curse. For both Anna and Julian’s sakes, Luke needed to be on top of his game. There was no way he’d let her handle the brunt of tonight’s events on her shoulders, alone.
Not going to happen.
The front door was cracked open when he reached it, and he shut it behind him. His ears pricked at the sound of voices coming from the second floor. He eyed the flight of stairs. No matter how much he’d progressed, stairs were still his worst enemy.
Didn’t look like he had a choice.
Grasping the balustrade, Luke hauled his sorry ass up the stairs. Each step was a little tougher than the last, but he didn’t stop until he’d reached the top. Then, he didn’t stop until he’d found Anna and her son, camped out in what could only be Julian’s room.
The kid must have heard Luke’s heavy footfalls, because his chin jerked up and he met Luke’s gaze. Those familiar blue eyes were red, as though he’d been crying.
“Jules.”
The minute the kid’s name left his mouth, Julian’s shoulders slumped and he clambered to his feet, swaying as though he wanted to dart over to Luke but wasn’t sure if it was okay.
Luke wasn’t the kid’s dad, biologically or otherwise. But in the course of a month, he and Julian had grown to be close friends, and that was a start to hopefully, one day, being looked at like a father figure. It was for that reason alone that he opened his arms, and said, “C’mere, kid.”
Julian didn’t wait.
He hit Luke’s chest, head ducked down, and Luke met Anna’s gaze over her son’s blond hair.
Dammit, but he felt his own eyes sting at the way Jules clung to him. “You’re good, kid, you’re good,” he murmured, palming the kid’s back between his shoulder blades. Moira had done that to him when he’d been younger, and it had always made him feel better. “Did you tell your mom what happened?”
With a shake of his head, Julian pulled back. “He called my cell phone while I was at Kevin’s.”
“It’s almost midnight.” Anna stood, her arms banding around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together. “There’s no way the prison would let him make a call this late.”
“Earlier,” Julian corrected with a downcast look at his bare feet. “He called earlier.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
The kid shoved a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. “You had your party, Mom. I didn’t want to bother you.”
Anna gave a little cry and swept forward, grasping her son by the elbows so he had no choice but to meet her gaze. “You come first, Jules. Always.”
Young blue eyes found Luke, questioning the validity of that statement. “Always, Jules,” Luke confirmed, speaking the truth. “I plan to marry your mother one day, and even then, you’ll come first—to both of us.”
Blondie’s head whipped in his direction.
Yeah, you heard that right, he wanted to say. But all he did was smile wickedly, letting her interpret his words however she wanted to, for now, at any rate.
Her mouth pulled into a tremulous smile before turning back to her son. “Tell me what he said, Jules. What did Tony want?”
“He . . . he knows about everything.”
That stopped Luke cold. Heart thundering in his chest, he grunted, “What do you mean that he knows everything?”
“He knows about Sassy.” Julian swallowed, his skin taking on a greenish color. “He knows about you running La Parisienne, Mom. He knows about . . . how much money you make.”
Anna’s pallor now matched her son’s. “How the hell does he know any of that?”
“Language,” Julian teased weakly, licking his lips. “But he also knows about you and Luke.”
What. The. Fuck.
Luke’s brain went into overdrive. For years, he’d been a part of covert operations around the world. For years, he’d played both sides of the fence, depending on what was needed of him at that time.
The enemy.
The ally.
There were many things that he’d done over the years that he wasn’t proud of, but one thing he’d been unfailingly good at, was seeing to the crux of a problem. Working out the puzzle, deciphering codes.
“He wants something.” Luke twisted at the waist, wanting to rest his hip but refusing to sit down. He met Julian’s gaze head-on. “He told you what he wants, didn’t he?”
Julian swallowed, hard. In a pained voice, he whispered, “He wants Mom to hire him an attorney to get him out of jail.”
Luke let out a bark of laugher. “The asshole is in jail for murder. I remember that, right before I left for deployment last year. I remember his name being plastered over every news station. I remember Brady—” He cut off, planting his hands on his hips as he drew in a deep breath. Calm, he needed to remain calm, even though he wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard for trying to exhort anything out of Anna. “Point is,” he said, voice tightly leashed, “he’s in jail. He has no rights, Jules. He can’t actually demand anything.”
Anna’s hand went to her throat, her feminine fingers brushing the underside of her jaw. “Why now?” Her eyes squeezed shut. “The interview today. Someone must have told him about the interview with Claudia.”
“Blondie,” Luke said, “did you hear what I said? He can’t demand anything from you. There’s no way any of that would fly in the court of law.”
“He promised to contact the media if we don’t.”
Luke’s eyes flew to Julian. “Explain, kid.” He gentled his tone. “What are you talking about?”
“If Mom doesn’t get him an attorney, he said that he’d contact the news and tell them that he’s my dad. He said that everyone would know—TV people wouldn’t want to work with Mom anymore, and everyone at school would find out that I’m a . . .” Another swallow, this one accompanied by his eyes slamming shut. “Everyone would find out that I’m the son of a murderer.”
“Fuck him.”
Julian’s eyes cranked open at Luke’s words. “What?”
“You heard me, Jules. Fuck. Him. Will he say something? Who the hell knows? But will it affect you?” He moved forward, his limp more pronounced than it had been in weeks. “You know who my dad was?”
The kid shook his head, not that Luke expected otherwise.
“My dad was a member of the Dixie Mafia.” Luke pushed at the memories, recalling his mother crying the minute his dad had decided he’d prefer to save his own life than protect theirs. He’d left and never once looked back. “He killed, Jules. He stole. He ran white-collar operations like he was born to it. And then when he’d pissed off the wrong guy, he came under fire. You know what he did?”
But it wasn’t Julian who answered but Anna. She stepped forward, her shoulders straight, her blue eyes glued to his face. “He left,” she said, and then slipped her hand into his. “He left you and your mom and your sister.”
Luke swallowed at the love he saw in her eyes. She hadn’t yet said the words, and neither had he, but he knew that she felt the same way he did. In a hoarse voice, he muttered, “He did. He left, and for all I know, he was killed on his way out of Louisiana.” He looked to Jules. “But I’m nothing like him, kid. I’ve spent my life serving my c
ountry, protecting my family. And there are people, not as many anymore, who remember what my dad did for a living. If they judge me for his actions, that’s on them. If Hollywood, or the kids at your school, judge you or your mother for crimes that y’all didn’t commit . . .”
“Fuck them.”
Anna didn’t even correct her son, for once. Instead she whispered the words, too. Her gaze latched onto her son. “I love you, Jules. Stay with Luke, all right? I need to call the attorney, just in case. I want to make sure we have everything covered.”
“It’s midnight,” Julian started.
“This is what I pay him for.” Anna tugged at Julian’s short sleeve, and he dutifully dipped his head so she could kiss his forehead. “Stay with Luke.”
She squeezed Luke’s hand on the way out, blowing him a kiss as she hurried from the room.
For a moment, neither he nor Julian said anything.
And then: “I love your mom, kid.”
Julian shuffled, then grinned. “I know.”
Luke nodded. “But I know you’re not telling her everything.”
This time, the kid grimaced.
“How did Mardeaux know about any of this? The interview? Your mom and me? Sassy? They don’t get TV in jail, Jules. Which means he was given that information through another source. You know who told him.” Luke lowered his voice, his gut telling him he knew exactly who the snake was. “It’s the same person who gave Mardeaux your cell phone number.”
“It is.”
Yeah, he thought so. Luke drew in a deep breath through his nose. “Which house is his?”
“The red one, the one to our right.”
He looked at the face he hoped would one day be as familiar to him as his own. “Stay here with your mom, Jules.”
“Luke—”
“Stay with your mom.”
He had a goddamn vet to take care of.
Chapter Thirty
Anna pressed the phone to her ear. “Thank you so much, Mac. Seriously, I can’t say thank you enough for taking my call so late at night. It’s a bit of . . . extenuating circumstances.” She laughed awkwardly. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
Did anyone ever expect to receive a phone call from their deadbeat ex-boyfriend from jail? A man she hadn’t heard from in fourteen years?
Extenuating circumstances didn’t even cover it.
Her attorney echoed her laugh, sounding tired. “No worries,” Mac said, “I’ll look into everything first thing in the morning. Don’t worry about it.”
Anna thanked him one more time before hanging up the phone. She tipped her head back, glancing up at the ceiling. Today had been . . . long. Between the interview from hell to the miscommunication with Luke, to having sex with Luke, to everything else. Well, she wouldn’t be surprised if she slept for the next five days.
Or if she found another gray hair down there.
It was days like this, when shit hit the fan, that she was thankful her natural blonde hair hid the majority of her aging.
Hauling herself off the kitchen chair, she headed for the stairs and for Luke and Julian. Her mind’s eye brought forth the image of her son launching himself at Luke’s chest, as though what he needed right then was the strength that only a man, a man old enough to be his father, could provide.
Even as her heart warmed at the thought, it chilled with the reminder of what Luke had suffered through during his childhood.
Sometimes it felt like the two of them were mirror images of each other: similar experiences, just at different times in their lives.
Another reason his soul called to hers, she just knew it.
“Jules?” She hit the top rung of the stairs, expecting to find her son and boyfriend (was he her boyfriend?) still in his bedroom. She stopped short, her gaze darting around. “Where’s Luke?”
“I called Brady.”
She blinked. “What?”
Julian stared down at his phone. “I didn’t know what else to do. He’s going over there and he’s already hurt. Mom, I don’t want anything to happen to—”
Anna grabbed her son by the shoulders. “Jules, what are you talking about? Why did you call Brady? And where did Luke go?”
“To Mr. Ajax’s house.”
Startled, Anna reared back. “Why would he go to . . .” Oh, no. Oh, no. She pointed at her son. “Call Danvers, too, Jules. Stay right here. Don’t move.”
“Mom, I already did!”
She heard her son’s shout as her bare feet pummeled the staircase. She’d kicked off her heels the minute she’d stepped foot inside earlier, but right now, she didn’t have time to worry about shoes.
Her gaze snagged on Julian’s baseball bat by the front door.
Screw it.
She grabbed it, threw open the door, and rushed outside.
“Tell your kids to go upstairs, Ajax.”
“So you can beat the shit out of me? No thanks.” Anna’s neighbor reclined back in his kitchen chair, throwing a glance to his two sons. “Stay there, y’all. Don’t move.”
Luke had definitely felt inclined to come over here and beat Ajax to hell—but he’d seen too many young faces be traumatized by the sight of violence over the years. Violence that he, himself, had often delivered.
He wasn’t about to pull that sort of stunt in front of Ajax’s kids. One was Julian’s age, the other one much younger.
“Dad,” said the older one, “should we call the police?”
“Don’t worry about it, Toby. We’re good—aren’t we, Mr. O’Connor?”
Luke grit his teeth, his hands fisting at his sides. “Sure are.”
Ajax grinned brightly, showing off straight white teeth, and folded his arms across his chest. “Plus, Toby, Mr. O’Connor is a cripple. Not much he can do to me when he’s likely to be on his ass in seconds.”
How wrong would it be if he just clocked the guy in the face—just one more time. Once was all he’d need. Enough to get his point across: mess with the Bryce family another time and Luke would purposely see his ass in jail for conspiracy to blackmail.
The military might not be city law enforcement, but Luke was well aware of state laws. By helping out Anthony Mardeaux, Ajax had drawn a fat, red X on his back.
The moment Luke had nearly busted down the front door, Ajax had known what was up. He’d opened the door, accepted Luke’s fist to his face, and then offered Luke a beer like the smooth sweet talker he no doubt pretended to be every day of his life.
“How do you know Mardeaux?” he demanded, watching Ajax’s hands. As long as he could see his hands, he was good.
“Old college friends. I knew Anna, too, back at Tulane. Doubt she remembers me. She was too wrapped up in my roommate to notice when anyone else was around.” Ajax tipped his beer up to his mouth, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Only time I ever saw her naked, Mardeaux was deep inside her. I came back early from class sometimes, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of what she wore beneath her classy clothes.” He looked to his boys. “Go upstairs.”
“Dad,” Toby started, but was soundly cut off.
“Go upstairs, you hear me?”
The boys fled the kitchen, leaving Ajax and Luke alone.
The douchebag at the table took another pull of his beer. “Where were we? Oh yeah, I was talking about how hard I used to get for your girlfriend. Imagine my surprise when I just so happened to move in next door to her. It was like all my college fantasies were about to come true.”
Luke didn’t register his feet moving, but then his hands were around Ajax’s throat, squeezing just hard enough to inspire fear in the other man.
Except that Ajax appeared to be a lunatic because all he did was grin. “You going to kill me, Mr. O’Connor? Be just like your father? Don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors about dear Sean O’Connor. Total asshole, am I right? How do you think people would react to finding out that his son is just like him?”
“I’m nothing like him,” Luke growled, planting his knee into Ajax�
�s stomach to keep him in place. “You got a place for your kids to stay once you end up in jail? Because that’s where you’re going to go, fucker.” He leaned in, meeting the man’s gaze. “I hope you and Mardeaux are real tight after all, because his face will be the best thing you see for the next five to seven years.”
Luke didn’t expect it.
The searing heat in his left thigh.
His bad leg crumpling beneath him.
His vision swimming as he heard a familiar feminine shout.
Bone crunching.
A body landing next to his.
Holy fuck, was that Anna wielding a baseball bat?
Shitty vision or not, blinding pain in his leg or not, he watched as the love of his life came to his rescue.
And, maybe, if it had been under any other circumstance, he would have laughed because this was the first time he could ever remember that someone had been there for him, willing to go all the way to make sure he was safe.
Except, shit.
No.
She had to stop.
“Blondie!” He heard her half-sob, half-warrior-queen shout, saw her hazy shadow move to the side. “Anna, stop.”
“He stabbed you,” she said.
Huh. So that’s what the burning fire in his leg was all about.
Ajax let out a groan beside him, and then there was the sound of feet tromping into the house.
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Brady. Luke almost laughed with relief. “Is that a kitchen knife sticking out of his leg?”
Another male voice. “A butter knife, I think.” Danvers. Of course. “Who knew that shit could draw so much blood?”
“Are you assholes going to help me or just let me bleed out?” Luke seized air into his lungs, drawing in deep breaths. “Also, please tell me Ajax isn’t dead.”
“He’s not dead.” Anna’s familiar perfume swirled around him as he felt her kneel by his side. Her gentle hands went to this chest, and her breath caressed his face as she kissed his forehead. He felt something wet fall—a teardrop, he realized.