"Yes. Come back to my place. You can stay there until your bus leaves in the morning."
Addy gasped behind me. "Jacqui, you can't—"
"Of course, I can." The older woman looked back at me, her expression almost daring me to turn down her offer. "I'll even drive you to the station myself—if you still want to leave."
"Why wouldn't I want to leave?"
"Because staying at my place means we'll continue with this conversation and your misplaced worries over the battle-axe." She hefted my bag and gave me a small smile. "Do we have a deal?"
I wanted to say no. If I was smart, I would say no. Absolutely nothing good would come of continuing this conversation. But Jacqui was right about one thing: I didn't think hanging out at the bus station was a good idea, or even if it was allowed. The last thing I wanted to do was wander the streets of New Orleans at night, dragging a bag filled with all my belongings behind me.
There was nothing to like about her offer but—"Okay, fine. We have a deal."
"Wonderful!" Her smile widened before she turned toward Addy. "You'll join us, of course. It'll be just like that one night you stayed over yourself. Remember? After you and your father had that small disagreement?"
There was something in Jacqui's tone of voice that made me take a cautious step back. The bright flash of understanding in Addy's eyes only added to my sudden wariness. They were up to something, both of them—a suspicion that was concerned when Addy suddenly laughed.
"I do! We had so much fun that night, didn't we?"
"Hmm. Some more than others, I think, but yes." Jacqui moved toward the door, her free hand closing around my arm as she pulled my bag behind her. Apparently, she was no longer interested in staying here now that a decision had been made and quickly led us from the apartment.
I ignored the wave of sudden sadness that washed over me. I was leaving, really leaving. I'd never see Dylan again. Would he be angry? Upset? Or maybe he wouldn't care at all. Maybe our time together meant less to him than it did me—
I shoved those pitying thoughts to the back of my mind and closed the door behind me. A quick check to make sure it was locked then we were walking down the hall toward the elevator, just the three of us. Part of me felt like a prisoner being led away, a feeling made even sharper since both women were flanking me like they were afraid I'd attempt escape.
But I wasn't going anywhere. The truth was, I didn't have anywhere to go.
We stepped outside and I blinked against the late morning light. I started to ask Jacqui if we were walking back to her place or if we were driving when I heard a screech behind me. All three of us stopped and turned toward the sound. I didn't know what I expected to see but it certainly wasn't the woman barreling down on me—
Or the uniformed officer trailing behind her.
"You! You thieving little whore! You thought you could get away with it, didn't you? Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"
I backed up, my survival instinct kicking in and urging me to run. Jacqui's hand tightened around my arm and I heard her low hiss of warning through the buzzing in my ears. I stayed where I was, but barely.
Mrs. Young closed the distance between us, her full face red and twisted with fury. She lifted one heavy arm and pointed at me with a shaking finger. "Where is it? What did you do with it?"
The officer caught up to her, his dark eyes reflecting the weariness etched on his face. Weariness and resignation, like he'd been forced to do a job he had no interest in doing.
"Mrs. Young, you need to let me handle this."
Jacqui stiffened the tiniest bit beside me and I almost turned to ask her what was wrong. I didn't have the chance because Addy stepped forward, the bright smile on her face focused solely on the officer.
"Good morning, Officer. I'm Adelaide Landry. Is something wrong?"
I choked back an inappropriate bark of laughter. If Addy's attempt at name dropping was supposed to subtle, she had failed miserably. Not for the first time, I wondered exactly what connections her family really had because the officer definitely recognized the name...and so did Mrs. Young.
"Ms. Landry." The officer nodded in acknowledgement then offered a smaller nod at Jacqui and me. "There seems to be some concern about—"
"Concern?" Mrs. Young's shrill voice interrupted the officer. "There is no concern! That little whore is a thief!"
I stiffened at the accusation and opened my mouth to argue with her. Addy quickly nudged me in the side and I snapped my mouth closed—probably a good thing since I had no idea what might have come out.
"I'm sorry, Officer, but this woman is obviously mistaken. My friend here isn't a thief." Addy's gaze moved to Mrs. Young and a definite chill entered her voice. "Or anything else that this woman might accuse her of."
"How dare you! Who do you think you are—"
"Mrs. Young, please. I will handle this." The officer turned back to us, resignation clear on his face. "There seems to be some concern about a jewelry set that's gone missing. A pair of earrings and a necklace. Mrs. Young claims that they were last seen in the possession of your friend."
As soon as he said the word jewelry, I stiffened. A sense of doom, sharp and biting, blindsided me. It wasn't just the doom I felt, though that was bad enough. One thought ripped through my mind, freezing me in place.
I was screwed. And there was nothing I could say or do that would get me out of the situation that was ready to blow up around me.
All eyes were focused on me, the expressions ranging from Mrs. Young's look of triumph to the slight hardening in the officer's dark gaze. I couldn't see Jacqui or Addy, not with each of them beside me, but I sensed their confusion.
I wanted to deny it. To shake my head and tell everyone that the bitter woman was wrong—
But I couldn't.
Screwed? No, that didn't even come close.
The officer stepped closer and motioned at the bag sitting on the sidewalk next to me. "Do you mind if I have a look?"
Jacqui stepped forward and shook her head. "This is my—"
I placed my hand on her arm and shook my head to stop her from saying anything else. As much as I appreciated what she was trying to do, it would only make things worse.
I bent down and unzipped the duffle bag. My hand went to the inside pocket and closed over the velvet jewelry box I had tucked inside—and completely forgot about it. Nausea welled inside me, sharp and bitter. My fingers shook as I pulled the jewelry box out and stood back up. I didn't miss Mrs. Young's sharp yelp of triumph, or the smaller gasps of surprise from Jacqui and Addy.
I handed the jewelry box to the officer and quickly stepped back. "It was a misunderstanding. She asked me to wear them for the wedding and I forgot—"
"Morgan, don't say anything else." Addy's low warning echoed in my ear, bringing tears to my eyes. It wasn't anger or accusation I heard under the warning in her voice, it was understanding and belief.
In me. In what I was trying to say.
A muscle ticked in the officer's hard jaw. He studied me with dark eyes then opened the box I'd given him. The pearl earrings and matching necklace glowed in the sunlight and I couldn't help but wonder if that light was directed at me, a spotlight of accusation and guilt that I had no answer for.
The officer closed the box and looked first at me then at Mrs. Young. I had no idea what she saw in the man's gaze but she stiffened her shoulders and pointed an accusing finger at me. "I want you to arrest that whore. Now!"
Addy stepped forward, that bright smile back in place. "Officer, this is just a misunderstanding. Now that the jewelry's been returned, surely you can—"
"This is not a misunderstanding. She's a thief and I want her arrested."
"I think we'll continue this discussion at the station." There was a hardness in the officer's voice that made Mrs. Young step back—and made my stomach drop to my knees. I sucked in a deep breath and swallowed against the bile creeping up my throat when the officer stepped toward me. One hand closed ar
ound my arm. Visions of handcuffs being slapped on my wrists flashed in front of me and I almost jerked out of his grasp. I probably would have if Jacqui's strong hand hadn't closed over my shoulder and squeezed.
"You'll be fine, cher. We'll get to the bottom of this. Don't worry."
I wanted to believe her, I really did. But I couldn't, not when I knew better. One look at the expression on Mrs. Young's face told me that she was out for blood—mine.
And she wouldn't be satisfied until she had it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dylan
"Arrested? What the fuck do you mean, arrested?" I didn't bother to keep my voice down, knowing it wouldn't have helped. Fury ripped through me, drowning the shock I'd first felt when Nathan had handed me his phone. There had been something in his eyes that jacked up the worry I'd been feeling since last night and I almost didn't take it.
A part of me wished I hadn't.
I tightened my grip on the phone and stepped away from Nathan. The look I shot him threatened death and dismemberment if he even so much as thought about taking the phone away from me. Smart man, because he believed me.
I turned away from him and walked toward the large window that overlooked the tarmac. Bright sun reflected off the concrete and from the metal body of the plane at the next gate. Our gate was empty and had been for the last two hours, thanks to a weather delay in whatever city our flight was coming from.
I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose hard enough to see stars, and forced an uneven breath from my lungs. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to lower my voice.
"Tell me what happened."
"That's what I've been trying to do, hockey boy, but you've been too busy screaming to listen."
My hand tightened around the phone again. "Jacqui, I swear to fuck—"
"We still don't have the details, not all of them." Jacqui's voice changed, becoming more business-like. I wasn't used to hearing her like this, without her usual amused and sometimes flippant tone. For some reason, that worried me even more than the news she'd called with.
"What happened?" My own voice was short and clipped and low.
"We were heading over to my place when she was confronted by that old battle-axe—"
"Who?"
"Mrs. Young, the mother of Morgan's ex-fiancé. She happened to notice Morgan at the restaurant the other night."
I closed my eyes as a piece of the mystery puzzle snapped into place. "That was why Morgan was in such a hurry to leave."
"Apparently."
"How'd she find her?"
"I'm not sure and that isn't important, not right now. What's important is that Mrs. Young accused Morgan of stealing some jewelry."
"Bullshit. Morgan isn't a thief."
"I'm aware of that."
"And she doesn't wear jewelry."
"I'm aware of that, too, but that's a discussion I'll have with you later."
I ignored the comment and exhaled my impatience. "Then why the fuck was she arrested if she didn't have the jewelry?"
"That, cher, is the problem. She did have it."
"What? No, she couldn't have. I would have seen it—"
"I think you probably did."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Was she, by any chance, wearing a set of pearl earrings with a matching necklace the day you found her in your apartment?"
"How the hell should I know? I wasn't paying—" I stopped, frowning as an image of Morgan popped into my head. I had no trouble remembering the dress with its yards of virginal white satin and lace but the jewelry was another matter. I couldn't swear to it but maybe she had been wearing jewelry.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose again. "I don't remember. Maybe she was."
"Maybe. Or it's possible she took them off before you saw her."
"Yeah. Maybe. What does that have to do with anything?"
"The set belongs to Mrs. Young. She was adamant that Morgan wear them for the wedding. Some nonsense about tradition or something."
"Okay, so? She took them off and forgot about them. Can you really blame her? I doubt she was really thinking too hard about it. Not a big deal."
"Not to any reasonable person, no. Unfortunately, Mrs. Young is anything but reasonable, cher."
"But Morgan didn't steal anything. She can just give them back and that's that."
"Yes, well, she tried." Jacqui's sigh echoed through the phone and my stomach automatically clenched and twisted. She sounded tired...and worried. Neither was a good sign, not coming from Jacqui. "She was mortified, Dylan. I've never seen anyone look so...so horrified, not even my father. It was painfully obvious she expected us to believe the worst."
"But you didn't, right?"
There was a long pause, followed by Jacqui's low voice. "You have no idea how lucky you are that you are not within striking distance of me right now. Of course, we didn't. I can't believe you'd think—"
I cut off Jacqui's threat with a veiled one of my own, one that should be crystal clear in the tome of my voice. "What the hell happened when she tried to give them back?"
"Apparently that wasn't good enough. Mrs. Young wasn't satisfied and pushed the issue, demanding that charges be brought against her."
"So of course, that's what happened, right? Morgan was automatically guilty because this woman said so."
"I'm not entirely sure."
"What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"The officer didn't handcuff her. To be honest, I got the impression he didn't even want to be involved."
"But he got involved anyway."
"He didn't have a choice, hockey boy."
I squeezed my eyes closed and sucked in a deep breath, knowing she had a point. Neither the realization or the deep breathing helped.
I opened my eyes and glanced at my watch, silently cursing the delay once more. If our commercial flight had arrived on time, I'd already be home. Hell, if we left after last night's game like we usually did, I would have been there when this happened—
My eyes snapped open at the thought. "When did this happen?"
Silence greeted my question, one that went on long enough that I pulled the phone away so I could check the screen and make sure the call hadn't disconnected.
It hadn't.
"Jacqui. When did this happen?"
"Yesterday. Just before lunch."
"Yesterday." I repeated the word, my voice so soft I doubted she even heard me. My next words came out a lot louder—loud enough that I was sure everyone three gates down could hear. "Yesterday? And you're just now fucking telling me?"
A hand clamped down on my shoulder, the grip hard and unforgiving. I whirled around, ready to throw Nathan off if that was what it took—only it wasn't Nathan, it was Coach Somers. Nathan was right next to him, wearing an identical expression of warning.
Right at that moment, I didn't give a fuck. I only cared about Morgan and whatever hell she was going through. I started to shake off Coach's hold but stopped when Nathan jerked the phone out of my hand. That distracted me enough to keep me from doing anything stupid.
How long that lasted was anyone's guess.
Nathan's gaze held mine as he put the phone to his ear. "Jacqui, it's me. What's going on?"
I leaned closer, needing to hear the details, but Coach tightened his grip on my shoulder and tried to lead me away. I fought against it, at least until I turned around and got a look at Coach's face. He wasn't pissed, the way I'd expected him to be. In fact, he actually looked understanding and sympathetic.
It wasn't a good look on him and that somehow made the entire situation a thousand times worse.
"Sit down, Gleason. Have a drink."
"I don't want—"
He pushed me into a seat and shoved a bottle of water into my hand. "Don't care. Drink."
I clenched my jaw and quickly uncapped the bottle, then took a long swig just to make the man happy. I must have been thirstier than I thought because I
ended up downing half the bottle.
"Whatever's going on, we'll get it figured out."
I shot a look of disbelief at the coach then shook my head and turned back to Nathan. He was still on the phone, his back to me.
"Good game last night. I saw a lot of hustle out there."
I turned back to Coach, shocked into silence. Was he actually going to talk about last night's game? Now?
He stretched his legs out in front of him, looking like he was ready to settle in for the long haul. "Feels good to have back-to-back wins. We were overdue."
I grunted and took another swig of water, a smaller one this time.
"You had some decent plays out there, Gleason."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"I think it was a good choice, moving you up to first line. You really seem to click with Tracey."
I nodded, not having any idea how to respond. Coach either didn't notice or didn't care because he kept talking, his voice droning on and on—until he stopped. I jerked my head up at the sudden silence and noticed him staring past me.
"I think Shaw's done with his conversation. I'll let you two talk." Coach pushed to his feet then gave me a warning look. "Quietly. No need for the entire damn airport to hear what's going on."
I nodded, letting him know I understood the warning. A few seconds later, Nathan dropped into the empty seat next to me. The expression on his face told me everything I didn't want to know. That didn't stop me from asking.
"What happened? Where's Morgan?"
"That's what they're trying to figure out."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means they're trying to find out what's going on. Addy called one of the family lawyers, thinking he'd have everything settled in a matter of hours." Nathan glanced at me then looked away. "That's the main reason they didn't call when it happened."
I brushed that excuse off—I didn't really care, not right now. I'd want a better explanation later but my main concern was Morgan. "Addy was obviously wrong about the attorney. Or did he decide not to go?"
"No, he went."
"But?"
"Morgan sent him away. Said she didn't want his help."
Troublemaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 2) Page 14