by Nina Croft
Emma had turned her back on her, siding with her husband. But Darcy knew her sister would have come to her senses eventually and seen Steven for what he was. And Darcy would have been there to help her get away from him. Start a new life. Instead she and her sister had been estranged. She hadn’t seen Emma since the court case. She wouldn’t have even known about Lulu’s birth if Sam hadn’t told her. Sam had known Emma well; her sister had often come to the gym to meet Darcy, and he was fond of her, though their friendship hadn’t survived Emma’s marriage. Among his other attributes, Steven had been a racist bigot. It was one of the reasons he’d disliked Darcy so much, and had done his best to drive a wedge between her and Emma. Because in Darcy, their Japanese heritage was clear, and he hated any reminder that his wife had mixed blood.
But ultimately, Emma had forgiven her. Shortly before the accident, she’d written to Darcy, asking her to make sure Lulu was okay if anything ever happened to her. Had she had some sort of premonition?
Why the hell hadn’t she left the bastard?
So Darcy had been determined to check that her niece was safe and happy, and then she’d planned to back out of her life. Because she was trouble and no good to anyone.
But from the moment she’d set eyes on Lulu, she’d experienced a connection she hadn’t even imagined was possible. It tugged at her heart, and from that point on, everything had changed.
Now she couldn’t walk away. She needed to see her niece again, just be a small part of her life. She didn’t intend to make a nuisance of herself.
She’d had a go at Matt Peterson last night about leaving Lulu with a stranger, but really, he was probably doing the best he could. Lulu looked healthy and happy. And Darcy had talked to the nanny. The woman was well trained and came from the best agency. It must be costing him a fortune and she knew from the report Nate had drawn up that Matt wasn’t a wealthy man. All he had was his captain’s salary.
But he’d pissed her off.
And she’d lost her temper. The story of her life.
Plus, he’d been so angry that she’d had a little frisson of concern—maybe he shared more than looks with his brother. Maybe he had a disposition to match. In which case, she owed it to her sister, and her niece, to somehow get Lulu away from him. Though she had no clue what that would involve. She was hardly in a position to take on a kid, even if she wanted to. She was on parole, for God’s sake.
This morning, she’d made no concessions to her appearance. She’d dressed all in black to suit her mood, black jeans, a black T-shirt and Doc Martens. What was the point? He wasn’t coming. Clearly, he believed the load of crap Steven had told him about her. Mentally unstable? She almost wished the bastard was alive so she could kill him.
She glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock exactly.
Something made her look up. There he was, right on the dot. He spotted her at the table and weaved his way toward her. He wasn’t in uniform this morning but looked immaculate, in gray pants and a white button-down shirt. Even his shoes were shiny. Hair combed, cleanly shaved. He looked…perfect. He stopped by the table, and she looked up and into his blue eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“What changed your mind?”
He shrugged and sank into the chair across from her. A waiter appeared, and Matt ordered a coffee. “You want anything else?” he asked her. They were being so civilized. She hadn’t even touched her drink yet, so she shook her head. He sighed. “It occurred to me that we need to finish this. I have the feeling that unless we’re clear, you’re going to keep coming at me. And I don’t want that. I want you out of our lives. So what’s it going to take?”
Was he trying to buy her off? Her temperature rose with her temper. “You think you can pay me to get out of Lulu’s life?”
“We just need to settle the price.”
He was amazing. “You don’t have enough money.”
“How do you know until you ask?”
“Because you live on your salary and right now, most of that goes to pay nannies and babysitters.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“The same way I knew you’d be at that club the other night. I had you investigated.” What the hell was she doing? He was here, and she was supposed to be getting him to listen to her, not winding him up. Actually, he didn’t even have to listen to her. He just had to read the report lying on the table between them.
At that moment, the waiter arrived with his coffee and he bit back whatever words were hovering on his lips. Darcy took a few deep, calming breaths. She could do this. “I’m sorry. But I knew nothing about you, and you refused to speak to me. I had to find a way to get you to listen. Whatever your brother told you about me, it’s not the truth.”
“Why would he lie?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t like me. He didn’t want Emma to have anyone she could turn to. Your brother was a violent man. He drank, flew into rages.”
“You’re lying.”
But there was a hint of confusion in his expression. She felt a flicker of hope. Reaching out, she slid the file across to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I’ve got no proof of what Steven did to my sister, but I thought, if I could show you what sort of man he was, then maybe you would at least listen to me.”
He was going to refuse. A tic jumped in his cheek.
Pick it up.
At last he did. She held her breath as she waited. Nate had gotten the report while he’d still been on the force. It was a list of disciplinary actions against Steven Peterson. He’d been on report numerous times, excessive use of force, drunk on duty. At the time of his death, he’d been on his last warning. Another infringement and he would have been kicked off the force. There was also a coroner’s report stating that Steven had been three times over the alcohol limit when he’d crashed the car, killing himself and her sister. That had been kept quiet, never coming out at the inquest. The force looking after its own?
He stared at the last sheet for a long time. “I don’t believe this.”
“It’s true.”
He shook his head.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t want…” But she trailed off because he wasn’t listening. He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, the file still clasped in his hand. Then without another word, he turned around and walked away.
Darcy stared after him. She half rose, meaning to follow, make him listen. But in the end, she sank back into her seat.
Even if she caught up with him, he wouldn’t hear her out now. For the first time, she saw it from his point of view. All she’d cared about was getting him to listen to her side of the story. But she’d just revealed to him that his own brother had been little better than a murderer.
That was bound to take some getting used to. She just had to hope that once it all sank in, he would come back and give her a chance.
…
Matt had been walking for fifteen minutes before he realized he was heading in the opposite direction of his car. He kept walking anyway. At first, his mind was blank, because he really didn’t want to think of the contents of the file in his hand.
Finally, the thoughts started creeping in and he knew he couldn’t put off thinking about it anymore. He passed a café and backtracked, went inside and found a corner booth. When the waiter came, he ordered a coffee and sat staring at the closed file until the cup was placed in front of him and he could put it off no longer.
He opened the file. There was a card stapled to the corner—Darcy’s name and a cell phone number. He went to the back page first. The report from the accident that had killed his brother and his wife outright. Steven had apparently been three times over the legal alcohol limit at the time of his death. In Matt’s mind, that was little better than murder. He’d only met Emma once, at the wedding, which had been a small affair, held in a registry office, and with no celebration afterward. Darcy hadn’t been
present. Emma had been totally different from her sister. Only the blond hair was the same, though Emma’s had been long and silky straight. Her eyes were blue and her face rounded. She’d seemed sweet and very much in love with Steven. That was four years ago. Now she was dead.
He read the other reports. Most were from job disciplinary actions. Steven had been suspended twice.
Could this all be a fabrication? Surely he would have had some inkling if it were true.
He got out his phone and looked up the number of the station where Steven had worked. He’d met his brother’s partner at the funeral—he’d seemed a decent man. When he got through to the switchboard, he asked to speak to Detective Sergeant Sands, gave his name, and said it was a personal matter.
The man picked up almost immediately. “Captain Peterson. How can I help you?”
“I just wanted to ask a few questions about my brother.”
“What kind of questions?”
He thought for a moment. “What sort of man was my brother?”
“What’s this about? Steven’s dead. What difference can it make?”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m Steven’s daughter’s guardian.”
“Lulu, yeah, I heard. How is she?”
“She’s good. But I’ve been approached by her maternal aunt who wants access to her. She was the one woman Steven wanted nowhere near Lulu, so I refused to see her.”
“You’re talking about Darcy Butler? Christ, Steven hated that woman. And not without good reason—she broke his arm. He said she’d humiliated him, swore he would get his own back, and I suppose he did. She spent time for that.”
“She just gave me a file. It says Steven was drunk at the time of the crash. That he had numerous disciplinary actions against him. I need to know if it’s true.”
The man was silent for a moment. “Look, what can I say? He was my partner, but he had issues, and when he drank, he was a downright mean bastard.”
“So the file is true?”
“I’m guessing so. I’m sorry. A lot of us thought the Butler woman got a rough deal, but the force looks after its own, and Steven’s wife backed him up.”
“Thank you.” He ended the call and sat staring at the phone. He could contact the coroner’s office and check the report, but he knew what he would hear.
How could he not have known this?
He tried to remember his brother as a kid. Had there been anything then? He’d had to stop him a couple of times from bullying some younger boy who lived down the road, but that was normal, wasn’t it? Just boys being boys. And Steven had always had a temper. But the truth was, Matt had distanced himself from his family as soon as he was old enough. He’d loved his parents, but they’d driven him crazy. They’d split up and gotten back together five times before he was seventeen. The emigration to Australia had been after the last reconciliation, when they’d decided a total change of scene might keep them together, and be exciting. They hadn’t been back to the UK since, and Matt had seen them four times in those years. He had a ten-year-old sister, Hannah, who he hardly knew, born in Australia. He talked to them regularly—he found them easier to like at a distance. But then his mother had always said she was sure he’d been swapped in the hospital at birth. She could never have produced such an organized child.
Had they known any of this? He stared at his phone. Should he?
He’d gone into combat and not felt as terrified as he was now. It would be early evening over there, so his mother would still be awake. Finally, he hit the number and waited as the connection was made.
His mother answered straight away. “Sweetheart, how are you? Is anything wrong? Is Lulu okay?”
“Lulu is fine,” he answered. “I just had something I needed to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
Christ, how was he to put this? Maybe he should have thought it through a bit more before he’d called. But it was too late now. “Did Steven have any…history of violence?”
She was quiet for what seemed like an age.
“Mom?”
“Why are you asking now?”
“Someone gave me a report stating that Steven had been drunk at the time of the crash. Other stuff as well. Disciplinary actions at his work.”
“Who? Why now?”
“Emma’s sister. She wants to see Lulu. I’d refused—Steven said she was violent, unstable. I’m beginning to believe he lied.”
“We never heard anything. We thought everything was fine.”
Something in her voice caused his suspicions to stir, churning in his stomach. “But you expected to hear something?”
“Steven was in some trouble before he left here. A fight. He nearly killed a man. We managed to settle out of court, but the arrest was on his record. They turned him down for the police academy here. You remember—he always wanted to be a detective, even when he was a little boy. That was why he returned to the UK. Everything seemed to be going so well.”
“And out of sight, out of mind.”
“That’s not very kind, darling.”
No, it wasn’t, but he wasn’t feeling very kind. How the hell had he not known this? But he was as much to blame. He’d made no effort to get close to Steven since he’d returned to the UK. Had he somehow sensed his brother’s innate violence and steered away? If he had made that effort, would Emma be alive now? Could he have stopped Steven? He knew the idea would haunt him.
“When he married Emma, we thought he’d calmed down. Found what he wanted in life.”
“Emma’s sister claims he was”—he could hardly get the word out—“abusive.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. The poor girl. She always seemed like such a sweetheart.”
“And Steven as good as killed her. He was drunk. Lulu was in the car with them. She’s lucky to be alive.”
“We didn’t know, Matt. We thought he was fine.”
What was he supposed to say? It was too late now for anything he said to have any meaning, or do any good. “How’s Hannah?” he asked instead.
“She’s good.” He could hear the relief in his mother’s voice that he’d changed the subject.
“Give her and Dad my love. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He ended the call and closed the file in front of him. He should phone Darcy. It looked like he owed her an apology, but he couldn’t face her right now. He needed some time to think things through, get his head straight. Instead he got out the card with her number, punched it in to his phone, and sent her a text.
We need to talk. Same time and place tomorrow.
In the meantime, he’d work himself up to that apology.
He had a flashback to watching her fight last night, all hard-assed attitude, the tattoos and the nose stud. She was hardly what he’d want as a role model for Lulu. But he no longer felt he had the right to deny her access to her niece.
Christ, what a mess.
And he hated messes. He needed to find a way to get some order into the situation. Bring everything back on track.
Chapter Five
This time, he was there waiting for her at the same table. But then she was five minutes late. There had been a last-minute situation up at the gym, and Sam, her manager, hadn’t arrived yet, so she’d had to sort it out.
She’d wanted to be on time, to be in place and waiting when he turned up—she wanted to be in control of the coming meeting. Also, she was guessing that punctuality was high on Captain Mathew Peterson’s list of positive attributes, and she was going to do her best to impress him. To make this relationship work. Not that they had a relationship or anything. But she had given herself a stern talking to. No more losing her temper.
She was in the right, and he presumably must see that now or he wouldn’t have arranged this meeting. All the same, she planned to try for a little humility.
She was interested to see how that would work.
His gaze burned into her as she crossed the road from the gym. She’d even worn a dress, black, sleeveles
s to show off her tattoos, ankle length—though split up the side to show her black Doc Martens, embroidered with blood-red roses.
There was a look in his eye she couldn’t quite fathom. In all that had followed, she’d sort of forgotten that first night. He’d wanted her. She had a flashback to the feel of his erection pressed against her belly, and heat washed through her. She pushed the memory away; it would only confuse an already difficult situation.
He was out of uniform again, but looking just as sharp. He stood up as she approached. An officer and a gentleman. She waved at a passing waiter. “Can I have a coffee, please?”
“Sure thing, Darcy.”
She sat down in the seat across from him, her gaze drawn to the file on the table between them. Then she waited for him to speak.
“Tell me what happened,” he said. “Why you went to prison.”
It wasn’t what she’d been expecting—an apology perhaps—and she thought for a moment. How much should she tell him? All of it, probably. She took a deep breath and started from the beginning.
“Emma met your brother when she was seventeen. Our parents had been killed in a plane crash a few months earlier. She was still reeling from that, and I think she saw Steven as someone strong she could lean on. And I suspect he loved that.”
The waiter put her coffee down, and she tossed him a smile.
“Go on,” Matt said.
“I didn’t like him from the start. And the feeling was mutual. But if Emma was happy, then I was good. But one night, she phoned me up crying. I went around. He was gone, but she had a split lip and a black eye. I wanted to go after him, but she begged me not to, said he’d just had too much to drink and he hadn’t meant it. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I tried to make her promise not to see him again, but she wouldn’t.”
“Why the hell would she stay? Why didn’t she report him?”
“I don’t know. I’d have killed the bastard.” She and Emma had always been opposites. Emma had been a sweet and placid child. Darcy had been a monster, into everything. Despite that, they’d been close growing up. But the death of their parents had hit Emma hard. Hell, it had hit Darcy hard as well, but maybe she’d fared better because she’d felt responsible for her sister. She hadn’t allowed herself to fall apart. “Anyway, it went on. Occasionally she would call me, and I’d go pick her up, get her away until he’d calmed down. They got married and she didn’t even tell me. She probably knew I’d try and talk her out of it.”