“How’d it go?”
A moment passed before Coop realized Tim referred to his Chicago trip to secure extradition of the man responsible for a string of fires resulting in at least two fatalities, and not the bizarre conversation he’d just shared with his father. He picked up a file, leaning forward to hand it across the desk.
“They’re willing to extradite unless the victim of his latest fire dies, but the prognosis looks good.”
“That’s what we wanted to hear.” Tim opened the file to skim the top page.
“Yeah.”
Tim locked onto Coop’s face. “It’s good news. So why do you look like you just caught your girlfriend in bed with another man?”
Coop scrubbed a hand over his jaw, bristly with the beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow. “My father was hit by a truck three days ago.”
“Damn.” Tim straightened in the chair. “Sorry, Coop. Is he okay?”
“Bumps and bruises, concussion and a broken foot. He’ll be sore for a while, but it looks like he’ll be fine.”
“And?” Tim prompted, handing back the file.
Coop set it aside and absently clicked a pen on and off with his thumb. “And he got married.”
“The colonel got married?” Surprise made Tim’s thick blond brows slam together to form one bushy slash.
“He claims he’s in love with her.”
Tim shook his head. “Your dad has blown through a lot of women over the years, but he didn’t marry any of them. Maybe he is.”
Coop grunted, hearing his father’s sentiment echoed in his friend’s reasoning.
“Who is she? Have you met her?”
“About an hour ago. Her name is Silvia Burke. She runs a dog training service.”
“A dog trainer? How did he meet her?”
“Her niece owns his building and lives downstairs. She and Silvia run the dog thing together.”
“A dog trainer who owns a building in Long Island City?”
Coop nodded. “That was my exact reaction. Apparently the building was part of an inheritance.”
“You want me to check her out? Silvia, I mean, not the niece. Off the books, of course, on my own time.”
Conscious of the legal considerations inherent in his position, Coop never broke the rules. In the process of doing his job, Tim often balanced precariously on the blade of justice, but Coop never had reason to doubt his ethics. He wasn’t surprised by the private offer.
“I hadn’t thought that far.” He had thought far enough to know he would be checking out the niece through a closer, much more personal inspection. The renewed tightening of his stomach muscles made him smile. “But checking her out might not be a bad idea. Dad may not be loaded by Manhattan standards, especially since buying the condo, but he’s not exactly broke.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Not much, other than her name. I assume she lives in the area, but you couldn’t tell by listening to her. Deep south I’d say, from her Scarlett O’Hara accent.”
“A southern belle?”
Coop chuckled, seeing again his father’s bride in his mind’s eye. He tipped back in his chair. “She’s a little hard to describe. Her mode of dress is straight out of the sixties, but I’d put her at closer to forty-five or fifty.”
“What about the niece? If I run into trouble, I may have to cross-reference to get a hit.”
“Rylee Pierce, mid-to-late twenties. She owns the dog training service. The Canine Academy. You can start there.”
“Silvia Burke,” Tim repeated. “I’ve heard that name somewhere.” His eyes grew unfocused as he stared into inner space. He snapped his fingers. “Isn’t Silvia Burke the administrator of The Adam’s House Foundation?”
“The military charity?”
“That’s the one. They’ve been advertising their big Fourth of July fundraiser over on Roosevelt Island.”
Coop tapped the pen against the edge of the desk, considering his impression of his father’s gypsy wife before sitting forward. “Dad’s Silvia runs the dog service with her niece. That must be a different Silvia Burke.”
“I’ll see what I can find.” Tim pushed to his feet. “The colonel married,” he repeated, shaking his head.
****
Rylee let herself inside Elliot’s condo, waggling her pointed finger in front of Pippin’s nose in the sign for quiet. Beside him, Belle was the picture of patience. The Boxer’s serene temperament tended to calm the ten-month-old Great Dane, and for this exercise, Rylee needed all the help she could get. In her opinion, a good portion of Pippin’s behavioral problems stemmed from a hypersensitivity to the emotions of his handler. Tension, whether positive or negative, flipped Pippin’s switch.
The coming conversation should have him bouncing off the walls.
What were Elliott and Sil up to, and why didn’t Elliott want his son to know they were married? The song and dance they performed earlier didn’t bode well for Sil’s future happiness, especially considering Coop’s comments before he left.
Rylee liked Elliott. What’s more, she owed him for resurrecting the spark missing in Sil since Adam’s death, three days after he’d arrived in Afghanistan, eight years ago. While her cousin’s death left a hole in Rylee, losing her son had flattened Sil. Since meeting Elliott, Sil’s natural buoyancy had returned. If Elliot hurt her by being less than they believed him to be…
The colonel had some explaining to do.
Which would have to wait. A commercial blared on TV, not quite drowning out the snuffling snores from the man on the couch. Spotting Elliott, Pippin lost focus and started in his direction, but returned to heel at the snap of Rylee’s fingers. She was anxious enough to consider stomping over to Elliott herself, to poke him awake and demand some answers. She ignored the urge, continuing into the kitchen where Sil’s flour-coated hands wrestled a large ball of dough on the table.
For Pippin, Elliott’s presence was a curiosity. Sil’s was a temptation he couldn’t resist. He paid no attention to Rylee’s signal to halt, his large paws scrabbling for purchase on the hardwood floor as he leapt for Sil. Rylee popped his leash. Startled by the unexpected pressure at his neck, he halted then stood quivering. To her satisfaction, he followed Belle’s example and dropped to his haunches at her command. She extended her hand, palm down, and both dogs dropped to the floor.
“Good dogs,” she praised, showing her palm. “Stay.”
“Impressive.” Sil eyed Pippin. “He would have been jumping and licking a couple of days ago.”
“He’s smart, but emotionally motivated, so I’ll say this as serenely as possible.” Rylee propped her hands on her hips. “What the hell was all of that about earlier? Elliott almost drowned himself in his soup to avoid telling his son you’re his wife. What’s going on, Sil?”
“Hush,” Sil scolded, her eyes darting in Elliott’s direction.
“He’s out cold.” Rylee snorted. “The building could collapse and he wouldn’t notice.”
“His pain pills have kicked in.”
“Uh-huh.” Rylee went to the refrigerator. She pulled out a pitcher of sweet tea, setting it on the table with a thump. “And you’re not going to distract me by reminding me he’s hurt. How could he do that to you, and why would you let him?”
Sil grimaced, resting her hands on the makings of her biscuits. “That’s not how it is, Rylee.”
“Really? Then explain, because I don’t understand.”
“Elliott simply wanted to tell Coop about us in private. When he showed up like that, Elliott got a bit flustered and didn’t know what to say.”
“Didn’t know what to say?” Rylee spread her hands. “How about, hey, son, meet your new step-momma?”
At her sharp tone, Pippin whined. Before he could scramble to his feet, Rylee firmly commanded, “Pippin, stay.”
The whining increased and indecision shown in his gaze, which snapped back and forth between her and Sil. “Stay,” she repeated.
He dropped hi
s head to his paws with a mutinous look.
Rylee turned her arched brows on Sil, who sighed.
“It’s complicated.”
“Why? I know you said they have issues, but they seemed to get along okay to me. Why would Elliott assume Coop would have a problem learning you’d married?”
“Any problem Coop might have wouldn’t be with me, specifically, but with the situation.” Silvia grabbed a hand towel to wipe her hands, and then used the damp cloth to cover the ball of biscuit dough. “Coop was just a boy when his mother left. After the divorce…well, Elliott didn’t handle things very well. A lot of women came and went out of that little boy’s life, Rylee. Being a man and a soldier on the move more often than not, Elliott didn’t recognize what the constant upheaval was doing to Cooper. His womanizing caused a rift between them. The relationship is still on the shaky side.”
Rylee knew all about father-child conflicts and, in her opinion, holding onto them was a complete waste of energy. She snorted. “So…what? You’re going to keep your marriage a secret from him? Because I have to tell you, Sil, that sounds like a badly written sitcom to me. Cooper Reed isn’t a little boy anymore. What does Elliott think he’ll do when he finds out you’re married, throw a temper tantrum?”
Sil grinned. “Nothing so dramatic.” She plucked two glasses from the cabinet and brought them to the table for the tea. “From what I understand, discussions between them can sometimes get a little dicey. Elliott, bless his heart, wanted to spare me the experience. He called Coop after you’d both left and explained the situation.” She sat down, leaning back in the chair with her glass. “Which is a pure shame, if you ask me. There is nothing I would have enjoyed more than watching two such fine looking specimens go toe-to-toe over little old me.”
Rylee couldn’t help but snicker as she dropped into a chair. That was Sil. Men delighted her, even when they behaved like pre-pubescent idiots. And though Rylee would never admit it, Elliott’s and Coop’s altercation was something she wouldn’t have minded seeing herself. As Sil so bluntly pointed out, the Reed men were yummy.
“So, what was the verdict?” Rylee picked up her glass. “Did the hunky lawyer pitch a fit when he found out his daddy got married?”
“Hunky?” Sil parroted, slapping her fingertips over the shocked little “oh” she formed with her lips. She chuckled when Rylee frowned. “Sugar, it warms my heart that you noticed. You’re far too oblivious when it comes to men.”
“Not oblivious,” Rylee corrected. “Busy.”
Rylee’s infrequent dating, or more precisely, the reason behind her disinterest in dating, was one of her aunt’s favorite subjects. When Sil cast a cautious glance in Elliott’s direction, Rylee knew they were about to revisit the issue.
“A real man wouldn’t give a damn who your daddy is. If you don’t bother to look, you won’t ever find him.”
“What are you talking about? I look. I went on a date three weeks ago.”
“You went to dinner three weeks ago, and took on two new students the very next day so you’d be too busy to give the man a second opportunity to learn more about you.”
“Please.” Rylee scowled. “He stared at my boobs the entire meal. On the cab ride home, he actually had the balls to announce he was about to give me the best orgasm of my life. He’s lucky I didn’t make sure he never had another orgasm in his life.” She shook her head. “What’s with guys who consider a steak and a glass of wine foreplay?”
Sil laughed.
“Besides, I let a guy learn more about me once and look how that worked out.”
Sil’s laugh died on a disgusted frown. “Marcus Perry is a mama’s boy and his mama is an overbearing, ignorant bitch.”
Rylee agreed with the assessment of her ex-fiancé and his mother, but that didn’t change the facts. When your father was famous for bilking thousands of people out of billions of dollars, people tended to paint you with the same brush, deserved or not.
“Face it, Sil, once people learn I’m Ponzi Pete’s little girl, my innocence doesn’t matter. Keeping my true identity a secret from strangers is one thing, but I’m uncomfortable with the idea of developing a relationship with a guy while lying by omission.”
Sil reached across the table to cover Rylee’s hand. “Just as people are wrong for equating you with your daddy, you are wrong to equate all men with that weasel Marcus.”
“Even if that was what I was doing, and I’m not saying it is,” Rylee added quickly. “I already feel like a one-armed juggler. Between the dogs and Adam’s House, a man is the last thing I need in my life.”
“You love the dogs.” Sil waved off her argument. “As for Adam’s House, Brian could run the Foundation’s projects with his eyes closed.”
Sil had a point. The dogs were a joy and Brian Hurley was more suited to his chosen work than any man Rylee knew. Not only did Brian have the talent to handle the foundation’s projects, he’d loved her cousin Adam like a brother, just as Rylee had. Growing up next door, Brian was Adam’s friend long before Rylee came to live with her aunt and cousin, and like them, Brian welcomed Rylee into his life with open arms. To hear Sil tell it, Rylee, Adam, and Brian grew to adulthood exploring the streets of Jackson, Mississippi like the three musketeers.
Life changed with Adam’s death, but Brian’s friendship eased the grief. And when Rylee suggested he help grow the foundation named for the man they’d all loved, he jumped at the opportunity. Under his guidance, the foundation’s projects were flourishing, putting Rylee’s unwanted inheritance to good use.
She had been stunned the morning of her twenty-fifth birthday to receive a visit from an attorney representing the estate of Agnes Pierce. Her uber-rich maternal grandmother hadn’t approved of Peter Morris, and had cut Rylee’s mother out of her life long before Rylee was born. Rylee had never even met the woman, so learning she was the recipient of Agnes’s estate was a shock.
She immediately knew she couldn’t keep the hefty inheritance. Ponzi Pete’s victims would scream bloody murder if they discovered his only child was suddenly worth thirty million. Besides, wealth, or more precisely the pursuit of wealth, had destroyed her family.
Upon receipt of the inheritance, Rylee chose River View, the smallest of the old warehouse buildings included in Agnes’ bequest, to make her home. She contracted Brian to do the rehab, with the idea of offering the remaining units to returning vets, in honor of the sacrifice Adam and so many others had made.
River View turned out even better than she envisioned, and the experience was so rewarding she couldn’t help thinking why stop there? With Brian’s assistance, they could turn Agnes’ remaining warehouses into affordable housing units for dozens more deserving vets.
Never one to think small, Sil pointed out how others might agree with the sentiment and the concept of The Adam’s House Foundation was born.
Figuring out the legalities took some doing, but Rylee’s anonymous contribution got things off the ground. Because of her father’s notoriety, Rylee kept her name out of foundation business, but no detail escaped her notice, and ultimately, she had the final say when it came to Adam’s House’s interests. To the world, however, Silvia was the force behind the mission, and Brian Hurly was the muscle.
“Speaking of Brian.” Rylee noted the time on her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to meet him in twenty minutes to check out a building he has his eye on.”
Having reached the limit of his juvenile attention span, Pippin was up and scrambling across the room the moment Rylee shifted in her chair to rise. He dove for Sil, who laughed and blocked his approach. Once she convinced him to sit properly, she turned a raised brow on Rylee.
“This conversation isn’t finished.”
Rylee laughed mirthlessly, reaching for Pippin’s dangling leash. “It never is.”
Sil patted Pippin’s head before rising. “You’re too precious, inside and out, to let your father’s legacy hold you back from building a full life.”
“We
ll, you’ll have to keep your fairy-godmother wand on idle for now. I’ve got work to do.”
Rylee called Belle to heel and headed for the living room.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Sil called to her back. “We’re expecting you for dinner tomorrow night. A family thing. Brian will be here.” She paused before adding in a satisfied drawl, “And the hunky lawyer will be here, too.”
Chapter Four
The sidewalk teamed with lunch hour activity, crowded with people eager to take advantage of the perfect summer day. A good test for Pippin, Rylee brought both dogs along for the twenty-minute walk. Though his enthusiasm for the swirling throng tested Pippin’s focus several times, he did well. Rylee wasn’t surprised. Since coming to the academy two weeks ago, he proved both intelligent and eager to please. In fact, except for that disaster the other day with Elliott and Sil, which hadn’t been the dog’s fault, he responded to Rylee’s intensified instruction like a willing student. It was time to bring in his owners.
She had some concerns with the Wilsons. While Bob Wilson remained indifferent to the family pet, Pippin intimidated Bob’s wife Emily. Neither of them appeared capable, or willing, to project pack-leader status, which meant nothing but trouble considering Pippin’s size. Unless the couple changed their behavior, no one would be happy. If that were the case, they would be better off finding Pippin another home—and getting themselves a cat. She planned to tell them just that and hoped the warning would sink in.
Rounding the corner onto Center Street, she spotted Brian’s lanky six-foot frame. Affecting his typical, lazy slouch, he leaned against a rail fence enclosing a small courtyard. Behind him, a large brick warehouse sat back from the street. Legs crossed at the ankles, he held a cell phone to his ear. A denim work-shirt rode his wide shoulders and chest, the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a dusty smudge marred one thigh of his Khaki slacks. Scuffed work boots covered his large feet.
That Dating Thing Page 3