Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (33 page)

When she returned, Storm caught her hand. “Dance with me.” He led her to the dance floor and held her too close, not that she minded. “Happy?”

“Yes, very happy. Thanks for doing all this.”

“I didn’t do anything. Everyone here planned this; all I did was drag you back. Did Pete and Nicki give you a hard time?”

“No more than usual. Pete made it all the way up the stairs without looking as if he were going to pass out. It was a big improvement.” She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed him in while Rocki sang a ballad—another perfect moment. She wanted to dance with Storm forever.

“What do you think of Thomas?”

“He seems really nice. I’ve always wondered what one of those guys looked like.”

Storm ran his hand down her back, stopping just short of the point of indecency. “One of which guys?”

“The guys who can drop ten million on a toy.”

He leaned back, dipped his chin, and stopped dancing. “
No Censor Ship
is a hell of a lot more than a toy.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to demean it. But still, I can’t imagine buying a house for a tenth of that price, and I’d be able to live in it.”

He pulled her hip to hip and started moving again. “You could live on
No Censor Ship
if you wanted to.”

“But Thomas doesn’t.”

“No, he’s more of a penthouse-on–Park Avenue kind of guy.”

She pulled away to look at his face. “What kind of guy are you?”

“You don’t know?” He seemed surprised.

“I thought I did, but then I see you with Thomas and you seem to fit right in. It’s obvious that you’re good friends. How many of your friends are like Thomas?”

“Rich? I’m not rich if that’s what you’re asking. Not compared to most of the people I know through business. They’re clients, Bree. I design boats, see that they’re built correctly, and spend a lot of time with my clients during the design process. Some become friends; some don’t.”

“But you have no trouble mixing with them. You’re as easy with Thomas as you are with Francis and Patrice.”

“Some of them, sure. People are people—no matter how much money they have in the bank. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that money is not the measure of a man. That should be clear to you when you look at Dickerbocker.”

Bree raised her eyebrow. “I don’t think Daniel is rich.”

“He dresses as if he is. A guy doesn’t walk around in thousand-dollar suits and handmade Italian shoes unless he makes a good living.”

She gave him a Brooklyn shrug. “I guess, but I never looked at him as anything but a coworker.”

“You went out with him once.”

“Who told you? Patrice or Rocki?

“Both.”

“Of course they did. Sometimes I wonder about my friends.”

Storm kissed her forehead. “They love you; we all do.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m more concerned about us than our friends.”

“And my having rich friends is a concern?”

“I don’t know. I worry that I wouldn’t fit in with Thomas’s crowd.”

“No one who gets to know you would ever think you’re not incredible. You impressed the hell out of Thomas, and believe me, not many people do.”

“You do.”

Storm spun her around and dipped her. “I’m just an impressive guy.” He pulled her up and then kissed her, proving his point.

Storm had been home for more than a month without having had a morning to sleep in. The first morning he thought he’d be able to started with a crash. The sound of Nicki charging through the living room like a herd of elephants was followed by D.O.G.’s excited bark. She had a few days off school for Rosh Hashanah, so he’d worked until three in the morning, knowing today would be spent with Nicki underfoot. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes, dragged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, stepped out of the bedroom, and found his laptop swimming with…“Orange juice?”

Nicki froze, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I cleaned it all up. I even washed it.”

He spotted the trail of water from the sink to the table. “In the sink?”

Her head bobbed up and down like the bobble-head doll Bree had on her dashboard. “Whenever I spill anything, Bree rinses it off in the sink.”

Storm sat down, held his aching head, and silently fired off a long list of curses. He’d gotten better about not cursing out loud, but no one said he couldn’t think them.

He’d been there a month. He juggled his work with taking care of Pete and Nicki. He followed the Daniel Knickerbocker investigation Thomas had waged, making sure Bree wasn’t caught up in whatever illegal activities Daniel seemed to be up to his eyeballs in, and kept a close eye on her so that she wouldn’t be caught in the middle when the story hit the presses. Added to all that were working at the bar and spending time with Bree.

He’d been pushing his limits for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to rest. Most nights he got out of bed after Bree fell asleep and tried to catch up on his work. He was tired, dog tired, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d backed up his computer. Fuck.

It had been days, which meant he had probably lost a week’s worth of work. It was, he reminded himself, his own damn fault, not Nicki’s.

“I’m s-s-sorry.” She hiccoughed and dissolved into gulping tears.

“It’s okay.” He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid, for leaving his computer on the table, for not backing it up, and for not getting enough sleep.

When he opened his eyes, Nicki wasn’t only crying; she was shaking. “Hey.” He went to put his arm around her and she flinched, not just a blink but a full-body flinch, arms protecting her face, torso bent, ready to flee. Damn, she was terrified. Nicki thought he was going to hit her. It stopped him cold. Memories of his father’s hand, the one thing he never wanted to get in the way of, flashed before his eyes. His insides churned but not in fear, not like he was headed for a bruising, not like sitting
in the back of a cruiser with his hands cuffed, and definitely not like the night he ran out on Bree. This fear was the realization that he was on the other end. No, he was not his father. He’d never turn into the monster his father was. He took a deep breath. A strange sense of calm enveloped him, and the huge weight he’d carried his whole life lifted off his shoulders. He’d never turn into his old man. Never. “Nicki, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tapped his knee, and D.O.G. came over to him. He gave the dog a pat, and Nicki stepped closer—within reach, but she still didn’t trust him. He tried not to take it personally. He knew how it felt to be on the wrong side of an irate man. He wasn’t irate at anyone but himself, but that could be hard for a little kid to figure out.

He took a deep breath, picked up the computer, and took it back to the kitchen, letting it drip over the sink. “I guess we need to go shopping.”

“We do?” She took a gulp of air and wiped her face with sticky hands.

“It looks like I need to buy a new computer.” And see if anything could be salvaged from the hard drive. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, did his best to soak up whatever liquid was left, and then stood the computer on its side to dry on the drain board while he got ready to go. “Do you want to come with me, or would you rather go down to the bar and stay with Bree and Pop?”

“You’re not mad?”

“At you? No, it was an accident. I’m mad at myself. I’ve told you to clean up after yourself how many times? I should have followed my own rules.”

Nicki ran to her room, and he wondered if he should get Bree. He didn’t want to go after Nicki if he was going
to scare the crap out of her again. Damn, the look on the kid’s face brought back so many memories, memories he thought were dead and buried. Spilling juice at the breakfast table had earned him a smack on the side of his head that ruptured his eardrum. He wondered what his dad would have done to him if he had single-handedly destroyed a computer and a week’s worth of work.

He shook his head and turned to find Nicki standing there with her hands behind her back. “Hey.” He forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look menacing. He crouched down in front of her. “I wondered where you went. I was just going to call Bree to help me find you.”

Nicki held her hands out. “I went to get my money. It’s not much, but I want to help buy you a new computer since I wrecked yours by accident. I didn’t mean to.”

This smile came naturally. God, he loved this kid. “How much you got there?”

“Twenty-four dollars and sixty-seven cents.” Most of which was change.

“Wow, that’s a lot of money.”

Nicki nodded. “I save whatever I find.” Her eyes went from young and innocent to way-too-old. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

“Thanks for the offer, Nicki, but I don’t want to take your money. You keep that for something special, okay?”

She looked at him with her big brown eyes still spiked with tears. “But you are special.”

Storm tried to swallow a tanker-sized lump in his throat, reached out, and grabbed the kid to pull her into a hug. Damn, his eyes were tearing like a freakin’ pansy. “So are you, Nicki. If I ever have a kid, I hope she’s just like you.” He kissed the top of her head.

Nicki clung to him like a little monkey, and he was in no rush to get away. He’d walk all over Brooklyn with her attached if that was what she wanted. He’d proved to himself that he wasn’t his old man, never would be, and it was as if a whole new world opened up to him. If all kids were like Nicki, he wouldn’t mind a few of his own—as long as he kept his computer away from them. He wondered what his and Bree’s kids would look like. He hoped to hell they’d take after Bree; Lord knew he caused enough trouble as a kid to make him wary of their taking after him. But with a normal family, maybe they wouldn’t be so set on getting into trouble.

“If I ever get a dad of my very own, I hope he’s just like you too.”

“I love you, Nicki.” He held her away a little bit so they were eye to eye. “You never have to be afraid of me. I don’t hit little girls, or even big girls. Ever. Understand?”

She looked at her sneakers, which were covered in orange juice, and dug her foot into the carpet.

He put a finger under her chin and made sure she was listening. “No one should ever hit you. If anyone tries, you come get me, and I’ll take care of him, okay?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He smiled at her tear-stained face and held her sticky hands in his. “You’re a hot mess, kiddo. You go wash up, change your clothes, and then we can go computer shopping.”

 * * *

Bree stood in the kitchen, eavesdropping on the two people she loved most in the world and wondering if she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life.

Nicki and Storm loved each other. They might very well be father and daughter, and Bree had kept them apart. Not in a physical sense, of course; the way Nicki clung to Storm showed that much, but not telling Storm what she knew was wrong and so much worse than she’d ever imagined.

Why could she see it now and not a month ago when she and Pete had talked? What she’d done was selfish. Bree had never thought of herself that way; now, she wasn’t so sure.

The last month with Storm had been perfect, and no matter how many times Pete told her that Storm might run if he found out Nicki could be his child, she’d known in her heart he would never leave a child of his own. He would never leave Nicki.

What became glaringly obvious as she watched Storm and Nicki together was that she wasn’t so confident he wouldn’t leave her. Maybe that was why she’d promised Pete she wouldn’t say anything to Storm. She was afraid he’d leave her.

Guilt stole the air from her lungs and burned her eyes. She had to tell him. He might never forgive her and she might never forgive herself, but he had a right to know. She’d already waited too long. She needed to talk to Pete first. She couldn’t break his confidence. Together, they’d have to figure out how to tell Storm.

“It’s just a computer, Bree. It’s not that bad.”

“What?”

Storm had spotted her and pointed to the computer sitting in the dish rack. “I think the hard drive is fried. Nicki spilled her juice on it and then tried to wash it off in the sink.”

“Oh God. You have a backup, right?”

Storm rubbed his neck. “If the hard drive is fried, I figure I’ve lost about a week’s work.”

“You’ve been working every night and not backing up?”

He looked guilty. “You knew I was sneaking out of bed to work?”

Bree shrugged. “I don’t sleep well without you anymore. I rolled over one night to throw my arm around you and found the dog there instead.”

Storm slid his arms around her and laughed. “I’m sure D.O.G. enjoyed the attention.”

“To say the least. But why would you think you had to hide your work from me?”

“I wasn’t hiding. I was just working during business hours in Auckland. There’s a seventeen-hour time difference, babe. Things like conversations on Skype have to be had on their time, not mine. My assistant needs questions answered, and assignments to complete.”

“What happened when you found your computer?”

“I did a lot of silent cursing, and when I looked up, Nicki was shaking. She thought I was going to hit her, Bree. The kid flinched when I reached for her.”

“I know.”

“You were here?”

“No.” Great, now she wasn’t only selfish, but she was also a liar. “I just know Nicki gets scared when she does something wrong. If someone waves a hand near her, she flinches. I took her to a game once, and she was terrified. She doesn’t talk about what happened to her, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the signs.”

Storm fisted his hands. “She’s a great kid, Bree. She should never have to be afraid.”

“And so were you. Look at what you went through.”

“I was a guy.”

“A little boy. I remember when you came here. You had a broken arm, and a cast as big as my whole leg. It went almost to your shoulder.”

Storm shrugged it off.

“You were two years older than Nicki and as skinny as any of those kids from Ethiopia I used to see in
National Geographic
.”

“I could take care of myself.”