Mr. Dangerous (The Dangerous Delaney Brothers Book 1)

by July Dawson

  I nodded and went in ahead of her.

  I had known, in a distant kind of way, that this was where my father had been attacked When I walked into the condo, with the modern photography prints on the gray walls and expensive Brazilian hardwood underfoot, and I saw the coffee table kicked over on its side, a glass spilled across the floor, it came home.

  Suddenly I could imagine my father in a fight for his life, tripping over the coffee table. My stomach dropped with dread and rage.

  I knelt to right the coffee table, picking up the glass to take it to the sink. It was sticky from the spilled liquid. The bitter, honeyed scent brought me back instantly to my father's study when I was a boy, after my mother died. My father, multi-tasking, drinking Scotch as he read us bedtime stories. I'd bet Naomi's father hadn't been drunk every night before his kids were even in bed.

  "Are you okay?" Naomi asked.

  "Fine," I said. "Absolutely. I'm going to take the art off the walls, move the heavy stuff. You want to get started searching the bedroom?"

  "Sure," she said. "Call me if you need help with the big stuff."

  That thought made me quirk an eyebrow, feeling slightly better. I tried to push away the image of Mitch’s struggle, what might have ended up being his last minutes of consciousness. The odds were high Mitch would never surface from his coma again.

  Naomi disappeared into the back of the condo, and I was grateful to have space to myself for now.

  I searched the apartment systematically. I knew I was searching in the wake of the criminals who had hurt my father, and I would have to be more thorough than they had because if there was anything easily found, they would have already stepped over Mitch’s body carrying it. If they’d just been after money and valuables it would be obvious from what they’d taken. And if they were after something else…

  I moved to the sideboard, mechanically sweeping the inside of drawers and underneath the cabinets before the top of the sideboard itself caught my eye. Mitch had photos of us boys in silver frames. One of them showed him kneeling on the deck, an arm around my waist and Nicky’s. I leaned against him, smiling, showing off a smile missing my front teeth. Something twisted inside me.

  Naomi came back into the living room. "I didn't find the key. Or any papers that seem like anything pertinent. But your dad has... a collection. Of sentimental stuff."

  "Nothing matters except the key to the lockbox, laptops, hard drives, USB sticks, that kind of thing." I said brusquely.

  She hesitated. "All right. I'll go search the kitchen. Maybe he hid something in a bowl or a cereal box."

  "Thanks.”

  "There's a mirror in there that looks heavy," she said. "You might want to go in and move it, look behind. I couldn't."

  I nodded. She disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the rustle of her at work, opening cabinet doors and searching through every object. Ridiculous. Couldn't Mitch have trusted his kids with whatever his secrets were, so that we didn't have to search in his wake through pots and cereal boxes for a reason for someone to try to kill him?

  I finished the living room and went into the bedroom. The oak closet doors stood open, the clothes subtly disarranged, as if someone had searched the inside of each jacket. The shelf that ran along the top of the closet was empty, and the boxes that must have once filled it were instead on the bed, the tops in a pile on the thick carpet. I expected to see files, but the boxes were full of stuff. I frowned, trying to make sense of what looked like a yard sale in boxes: baseball mitts worn to gray at the center, yearbooks, birthday cards.

  I pulled out a card with balloons on the front, and suddenly I was eight years old again. Joe was with me. We’d stopped at the drug store when Joe was driving me home from Little League. "This one," I'd told Joe. "Can we get Dad a real balloon too? Just like this one?" Joe had put a hand on my shoulder, hugging me. "Sure. Your dad loves balloons, just like you." Of course, the memory was of Joe; I didn't remember giving Mitch the card. I would have assumed that he threw it away.

  But he hadn't. These boxes of crap were my crap, Liam's, Josh's, Nicky's. I thumbed quickly through it, some of the items bringing up strong memories. It must have all carried a memory for Dad, something that reminded him of a time with his young sons. I bit my lip against a sudden tide of emotion. Why the fuck hadn't Mitch done anything with this sentiment when it still would have mattered? When we could have tried again to have a relationship as a father and a son?

  Back to work. I could worry about my father and my father's feelings and my father’s awful legacy when I had time, when everyone was safe. I slapped a lid down on top of one of the boxes.

  But a book in one of the bins caught his eye. A kids' book. The Boys' Handbook of Treasure-Hunting, Code-Breaking and Adventure-Seeking. I didn't remember it from childhood, so maybe it had been a gift for the younger boys. I plucked it out of the bin, rifling through the pages, looking for a key taped amidst it. But there was nothing.

  Still, a thread of doubt made me decide to keep the book. Just in case.

  "Rob?" Naomi stood in the doorway, her eyes on me worried, although she glanced around at the pile-up of sentimentality without saying anything. "I found a leather laptop bag and a docking station for a laptop, but there's no computer in the apartment."

  "I think I should talk to my father's lawyers," I said. "Whoever came after Mitch, I don't think they were just looking for valuables. I think they were looking for information."

  "Why's that?"

  I tucked the book under my arm, reluctant to leave the condo behind without answers. "Laptops aren't the easiest thing to steal. They're too easily traced." I glanced around at the mess, fighting a surge of fury. "Beyond that? I have a feeling."

  There was an insistent tapping on the front door. Naomi stared at me, wide-eyed.

  I held a finger to my lips, gesturing to her to stay put, then moved past her quickly on silent feet. Besides the bedroom doorway, the motion-activated camera feed had turned on above the two-way speaker I could use to communicate with the person at the door. Two men in police uniforms stood at the door. Well, that was both fast, and not fast enough; no one had helped my father. If they were truly the police. I didn't feel like I could trust anyone now.

  I glanced at the door, which was heavy enough for me to think it had a steel core beneath the dark wood, and the reinforced hinges. My father had set the bedroom up as a safe room.

  Why the hell had Mitch felt he needed a safe room, even once he’d retired? He must have seen this end coming.

  "Stay in here," I mouthed to Naomi, touching the latch on the inside of the door. "Lock yourself in."

  There was no way out of the condo except back through that door where the maybe-police waited.

  She nodded. I went quietly down the hall, and she eased the door shut behind me. A tiny bit of stress dropped away as I heard the click of the bolt. At least for now, Naomi was safe.

  I called the security department for the building, which I still had in my phone after demanding an explanation of what had happened to Mitch. Despite having advertised state-of-the-art security, the truth was their physical security was one guy watching the CCTV feed. When Security answered the phone gruffly, I said, "This is Officer Smith at precinct D-4. Trying to make sense of a message here. Did you call us with a possible B&E in progress?"

  "Yeah," the guy sounded aggravated. "I did. You mean there's no --"

  I hung up on him. Good sign. But just in case, I stood to one side of the front door when I pushed the intercom button. "Yes?"

  "This is the police. Come out with your hands up. Now."

  "Yes sir," I said, making my tone easy, already pulling my money clip out of my pocket. "My name's Rob Delaney. This is my father's condo." I unlocked the front door again and stepped out into the hall, still tense for a fight in case things went sideways.

  "ID," the one cop said, pushing me against the wall. I already had my hands up, and I waggled the clip in my hand.

  The cop took it from
me roughly, pulled out my ID, and looked me over. "It's him."

  I felt the tension ease slightly in the hallway. At least no one was inclined to shoot me right now.

  "What're you doing here?" A young cop with a heavy Boston accent gestured at the crime scene tape.

  "I know, I don't belong here," I said. "I'm just trying to figure out what's going on with my father. He's in a coma at --"

  "We know." The young cop said. "I found him."

  "You did?" I asked. "Can I ask you some questions?"

  "Oh, no, Mr. Delaney," he said. "We're going to ask you some questions."

  "Hold on," I said. "I have to call my girlfriend."

  "You have to call your girlfriend? Really?"

  "Well," I said. "She's in there."

  The cop said, “You better get her out here. You both are in trouble.”

  I didn’t feel like I was in that much trouble, really, now that no one was pointing a gun at me. Everything else was negotiable.

  Well, except for maybe Naomi’s ire as she stepped out besides me into the hall, her palms above her head like she was about to break into a gospel song. She shot me a dark look.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed.

  27

  Naomi

  I drove us in near silence away from the police station, as the sun set that evening.

  "You sure know how to show a girl a good time," I finally said, flipping down the visor because the sun was in my eyes.

  "You're not going to hold that against me."

  "They took my lock-picking kit." I had spent hours crafting those picks. I couldn't believe I'd let Rob know about it in the first place: it was the most random, slightly embarrassing hobby to have picked up. I couldn't believe Rob had been impressed.

  "They didn't charge us with anything."

  "Not being charged with a crime is not how I want to come to define a good day."

  "Sorry," he said.

  I didn't want Rob to apologize. I felt bad for badgering him, if that was how he took it. I wanted to make him feel better. To make small talk. To be playful even though all I felt was exhausted.

  "It's all right." I pulled over into the minuscule parking lot of a city 7-11. I’d been too eager to get away from the police, and we hadn’t talked about where we were going besides not jail. "Where do you want to go now? Hospital?"

  "No," he said shortly. "No good going there, he's not awake. We can head back to the house for now."

  "And then what?"

  "Then I'm going to do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this. Make sure you and my family are safe."

  "And in the meantime..." I trailed off.

  "In the meantime, you can take a vacation."

  "There's no such thing as a vacation for me. Especially not with your grandmother in the house."

  "I told her, she can make her own tea."

  "You said that to her?" I glanced over at him from the road.

  "I did. We Delaneys are blunt with each other, at least."

  "Rob. She must know..." I hesitated. I couldn't put it on him, not right now, that his grandmother might be interfering with my business. The whole thing seemed too preposterous to say out loud. Why would Rob’s grandmother see me as a threat to his eventual marriage to an appropriately WASP-y, Ivy-educated type?

  Rob shrugged. "I told her, I'm worried Naomi is in danger because she's been seen with me. Which is true. That's the only reason that man might have accosted you in the hospital. Otherwise, no one would know..."

  Rob's voice was cool, but his hands flexed, as if he were fighting the impulse to make a fist.

  I couldn't resist. "No one would know what?"

  The look he gave me was pointed. "Naomi."

  I shrugged, turning back to the windshield. Fat plops of rain began to ping against the glass, and I hit the wipers. "What are you going to do next?”

  "Are you trying to drive home that I don't have much of a plan?"

  "I'm trying to figure out where we're going, actually. As your chauffeur."

  He sighed. "Once my brothers fly in, you don't have to worry about that. As soon as we make sure you're safe, everything can go back to normal for you."

  "Oh."

  "I thought you'd be happy about the idea."

  "I am." I'd gotten a text from Alice that they'd lost yet another client while we were at Mitch's condo. I had to find out ASAP if Rob's grandmother really was behind this, and if so I had to put a stop to it. But would that mean confronting her or quietly exiting Rob's life? Either way, the thought made me ache. "If it actually goes back to normal."

  "What does that mean?"

  I waved the question off.

  He sighed again. So I was surprised when he said, "It's late. We haven't eaten. We should stop."

  "I thought you only relaxed in Castle Delaney."

  "It's going to be a lot more of a castle. Joe's got quite the security set-up on order for me. But for now?" He slung his arm casually over my seatback, and even though he didn't actually touch me, I felt a shiver of desire and tension run through my body.

  "For now, you're safe with me, wherever we are," he promised.

  I wished that was true for my heart.

  Back at the house, I found Alice waiting up for us when we came inside.

  Alice looped her arms around my neck. "I was worried about you.”

  "You should be," I said, gently disentangling from her arms.

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means Rob almost got us arrested. Did Mom check in on my cats?"

  "Yes."

  "Why are you still here?" I chided Alice. "You have work and homework and a million things to do..."

  "I'm not leaving you to swim in the pool and eat Thai delivery on your own."

  "Are you worried after all?" I felt a flat edge of fear, a reminder of that moment I'd run from the man in the elevator.

  "I like free food."

  "Speaking of. I have to run this to the fridge." I took the leftover pizza box from Rob and headed back through the house into the kitchen.

  Rob's grandmother set the kettle on the gas stove with a clatter.

  I stopped abruptly in the doorway. I was still unseen, but it would obvious if I walked away now with the pizza box that I was trying to avoid Rebecca. That I was afraid of her.

  In such a big house, how was it possible I couldn't get away from the woman? I had been thinking about what I would say to her for hours, but now that we were both here, I didn't want to.

  Rebecca turned, raising her eyebrows. "Hello, dear. Would you like a cup of tea a well?"

  I squared my shoulders. "I would love one. Thank you."

  I headed over to the big stainless steel fridge and set the pizza box on an empty shelf. Someone had spilled orange juice in the fridge. I stared at the small, sticky orange spot for a second and then forced myself to close the door without wiping it up.

  I didn't owe these people perfection. Not right now.

  Honestly, the Delaneys would probably be better people if they all cleaned up their own messes anyway. Like Rob had been trying to do when he headed into the Navy.

  "Are you all right?" Rebecca asked, her tone cool.

  I took that as an invitation. I closed the fridge door as if I hadn't just been caught staring into the crisper in a moment of transcendent understanding. Rob might not be able to talk about his feelings very well, but I thought another piece of his puzzle had clicked clearly into place for me.

  "I've had a long day," I said. "We keep losing clients. For some reason. Usually, people are quite happy with us."

  "Oh, dear." Rebecca said. She pushed the wooden tea box across the island towards me. "Well, I recommend mint tea for clarity."

  I looked over the tea bags and plucked out a teabag of apple-cinnamon. I smiled sweetly. "I think I've had as much clarity as I can handle."

  "Oh?" Rebecca asked. "That's wonderful."

  "I think maybe someone is trying to ruin my family business."

  “Oh? H
ow peculiar. You seem like such a sweet person."

  "Mm," I said. "So why would someone have it out for me? Maybe they want me to just sit this situation of Rob's out. To disappear from his life. Right when he needs me."

  "Oh, I don't think you need to make decisions for Rob's sake. He has his family to help him in this tough time." Rebecca smiled tightly at me across the island. "How often does anyone really need their own personal locksmith?"

  "Yeah," I said. "Well, that's beside the point. I won't be bullied."

  "When did you and Rob start this relationship, anyway?" Rebecca asked tartly. "A week ago?"

  "I'm not sure I'd call it a relationship." I said, quoting Rob.

  Rebecca shook her head. "In my day, we believed sex was precious. For within a marriage."

  "In your day, almost every firstborn baby was 'premature', even if they weighed eight pounds. And those rules were only for women."

  Rebecca smiled thinly. "So you claim you’re doing this for… equality?"

  "I wouldn't want to marry someone who wasn't any good in bed." I said. Then, softly, so my words couldn't carry out of the room, I added, "Rob is very good in bed. I'm willing to take out another ad or two for new clients."

  "In my day, we would have called a girl like you a shameless hussy." Rebecca said.

  "In my day, we have some choice words to describe women like you too," I promised. The kettle began to whistle. My hands felt like they should have been shaking with anxiety from the argument, but they were steady. I shut off the burner, lifted the kettle and filled our mugs with hot water.

  "You don't want to go to war with me, honey," Rebecca said.

  "It seems to me like the Delaney family is already at war." I took my mug and tea bag. "Thank goodness this is all out in the open now. I thought I'd have to sneak into Rob's room tonight to be polite. Instead I can go share this mug with him."

  I headed for the doorway, but even though I held my head high and walked away, Rebecca wasn't going to let things go without the last word.

  "He doesn't like tea," she said to my back. "You don't even know that. You don't know the first thing about him or his family or his world."