Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (35 page)

Pete leaned forward and looked from Logan to him and back again. “Nicki’s mother is Marisa Sotto. She was a waitress at the bar before you boys left. Do you two remember her?”

Logan nodded and paled.

Storm couldn’t believe it. “Fuck, Marisa is Nicki’s mother? Why am I just finding out about this now?”

Logan looked from Bree to Pete. “And what does this have to do with us? What’s the deal?”

Pete ignored their questions and continued without skipping a beat. “Marisa didn’t work here long; she was a much better flirt than a waitress. A few years later, she came back asking for work, hauling around a toddler, and God forgive me, I didn’t give her the time of day.”

“Why should you have?” Logan asked.

Logan had never liked being kept in the dark; neither did Storm. What Storm didn’t like even more was that he and Logan were the only ones shocked by this news, which meant Bree already knew all about it.

“Because I could do the math, son, and there aren’t
enough Hail Marys in the world to make me worthy of forgiveness for that one stupid, selfish mistake.”

“I’m not following you, Pop.”

Storm crossed his arms. “Neither am I. What the hell are you trying to say?”

“When Marisa left Nicki with me, she said Nicki was my granddaughter and that she was better off with me.”

Logan turned white and Storm felt as if he’d just taken one in the solar plexus. Nicki was Pete’s grandchild? What the hell?

“I’ve racked my brain trying to remember what went on back then. Logan, if I remember correctly, you had a girlfriend that summer, and Slater kept himself closeted with his computers.” Pop looked Storm in the eye and then down at his hands. “Storm—you were always the impulsive one back then, and you took off.”

Logan’s shocked face twisted into an angry grimace. Storm had rarely seen Logan mad; he’d always been the calmest of the three of them. “Is that what this is all about? You want to know if Storm or I fucked Marisa? Why didn’t you just ask us?”

Storm shook his head, his embarrassment choking him. He couldn’t deny what Pop had said about him being impulsive back then; it was the truth. He took a step back, as if putting more distance between them would stop whatever it was that was happening. “I was just wondering the same thing.” He felt sick, the same sick he’d felt when he was a kid and knew he was in for a beating from his old man. He planted his feet, ignoring the inner voice that screamed at him to run. This was Bree and Pop. They loved him. They’d never hurt him. He took a deep breath and told himself he was imagining things.

“Storm.” Bree finally looked him in the eyes. And what he saw there was horror, guilt, and fear.

His heart sank. How long had Bree suspected Nicki was his? How long had she kept it from him? Why? Did she tell him she loved him, thinking he was Nicki’s father and she’d be getting a twofer? Was she in love with him, or the idea of having a ready-made family? “How long have you known?”

She made a move to get up, but his warning look kept her rooted to her chair.

“Answer the question.” His voice shook with anger; his gaze shot between Bree and Pop. The two of them looked guilty as hell. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Right now the only thing that matters is Nicki, and unfortunately, she’s not mine.” As he stared at Bree, blood rushed through his ears, drowning out the sound of the air conditioner; sweat dripped between his shoulder blades; disbelief coated his throat and tasted like bile. “There was only one girl I was interested in back then, and it wasn’t Marisa. As much as I wish she were, Nicki isn’t my daughter.” He took a shaky breath and stared at the woman he loved and his own father. “You thought I was capable of running out on the mother of my child, my own kid?”

Neither said a word.

“I take that as a yes.” He turned, then gave Logan a crushing hug and a clap on the back. “I’m glad you’re here. If Nicki is yours, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.” He cleared his throat—forcing the words past the lump of what was probably the remains of his heart. “She’s a daughter any man would be blessed to have. I’ve got somewhere I have to be. I’m on the six forty-five to Auckland.”

 * * *

Storm didn’t spare Bree or Pete a glance as he went to the room he’d shared with Bree and slammed the door. He made it to the bed before his legs gave out. He’d been beaten up, broken, and thrown away before, but he’d never hurt this bad. His hand shook as he scrubbed it over his face.

The door opened and Pete stepped in.

Storm stood on wobbly legs and stared down the man he respected more than any other—the man who was the only father he’d ever really had; the man who had just betrayed him. “Why?”

Pete cleared his throat. “You never told me why you ran, son. I knew how you felt about having children. You were afraid you’d hurt them. You told me you’d rather die than turn into a monster like your old man. If Marisa told you she was pregnant…” Pete’s face crumbled, and he raked his bony hand through his hair. “I asked you why you left, and you wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t want to believe it, but shit, Storm.”

“And you asked Bree.”

Pop nodded and put a hand on the dresser to steady himself. “She said you left because of her.”

“But she didn’t believe she was the only reason, did she? She had so little faith in me, she thought I not only ran away from her, but from the girl I supposedly knocked up, and my baby?” Storm turned away from his father. He needed to get out of there. He dug out his duffel bag and ripped his clothes off the hangers, stuffing them inside.

“Bree loves you.”

“How could she love a man she could even think would do that? How could you?”

“You’re my son.”

“Maybe.” Storm dropped the bag and looked at his father, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from shaking him. “But I never thought the father I trusted and loved would keep the fact that I might have a child from me. What am I supposed to think, Pop? Since Nicki isn’t my kid, do you think you’re off the hook? Am I supposed to say, no problem? No harm done? Am I supposed to just forget about it?”

“I’m sorry, son. Everyone makes mistakes. I hope in time you’ll forgive me. I’m not perfect, but I love you. I always will.”

“Yeah, I’m just not sure I want that kind of love.”

Storm watched his dad leave looking like he’d aged ten years; then he turned and set the duffel bag on the bed beside D.O.G., who let out a sympathetic whine. “I know just how you feel.”

“Do you?”

The sound of Bree’s voice had every muscle in his body tightening as if someone had taken a ratchet to them. He rubbed his stiff neck. “I was talking to the dog.”

She walked into the room they’d shared, sat on the bed beside D.O.G., and toyed with his floppy ear as if gathering her thoughts while his whole world shifted off its axis.

She straightened her shoulders, raised her chin, and looked him in the eye before angrily wiping away a tear. “We were wrong not to tell you. Pete wanted to wait until Logan returned. It was his decision to wait, but I’m just as guilty. I agreed to it. I promised not to say anything. This morning when I saw you and Nicki together, I knew how very wrong we were to keep it from you. I should never have agreed not to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“How could you think I’d run out on Nicki? I love that kid.”

“I knew you’d never run out on her. I just wasn’t sure you wouldn’t run out on me.”

“You were wrong, Bree. I’m not running out on you. I got a call from the boat builder. There’s a problem, and it’s costing eight thousand dollars plus penalties for every day work stops. I’d have to leave regardless. Now that I know the truth, I guess the timing is actually fortuitous.”

“Fortuitous?” Silent tears rolled down her cheeks unhindered. “I was wrong. I’m a coward. I know that and I’m sorry. Forgive me, Storm. I love you.”

“You say you love me, but I’m not even sure you know your own mind. Is it me you love, or the family we could have had together if I were Nicki’s father?”

Her mouth opened as if she intended to deny it, and then closed.

The pain he’d been fighting slammed into him again. “You don’t even know, do you?”

She jumped off the bed. “I never thought that. You have to believe me.” She came toward him, reaching for him, her arms open.

“Don’t do this, Bree.” He held up his hands. He couldn’t take it if she touched him. If she touched him, he might just fall apart. He took a giant step back and almost ran into the closet door. “I have a plane to catch. I can’t do this now. I just can’t.” He turned away and wished he could leave all his clothes. If he thought they’d let him on a plane without luggage, he’d be gone.

“Storm, no matter what you think, I love you. I have since I first met you, and God help me, I always will. If I
could go back in time, I’d tell you as soon as I found out. I’m so sorry—”

Her words shot through him like bullets, leaving his heart bleeding. He sank down onto the bed and stared at his feet. “Me too.”

He didn’t breathe again until he heard the snick of the door. He dragged in a breath, and then another, and then another just as he used to when he was beaten until his body hurt so bad he thought he’d pass out.

If he kept breathing, he’d keep living. He didn’t have much of a choice. He had promises to keep and a little girl who needed him. Even if Nicki wasn’t his daughter, she was still his kid.

His phone rang and he thought about not answering it, until he saw it was Thomas.

“Yeah.” Storm hardly recognized his own voice.

“Storm, I got everything I need. The story is going to print.”

“You got Knickerbocker?”

“He’s as crooked as you thought. He owns all the property the city is buying for the Harbor Pier Project, and with the zoning change, that property, and all that surrounds it, is worth millions more today than it was a month and a half ago. Can you say conflict of interest?”

“You’re keeping Bree out of it though, right, Thomas? I don’t want her hurt by this.”

“It won’t touch her. She’ll come out smelling like the rose she is. You have my word.”

“I’ll hold you to it. I’m leaving on the six forty-five to Auckland. I have a problem to take care of down there.”

“What’s going on?”

“The bulb weight on a Class 40 is more than two hundred
pounds off, and I have to figure out what the hell is going on. I have to get down there.”

“Understandable. When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll e-mail you the article. Look for it, and thanks for the tip—I owe you, my friend. We’re going to blow this whole thing wide open.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t touch Bree and we’ll call it even.”

“Storm, are you okay?”

“I’ll live.” He just wasn’t sure he wanted to. “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

Storm disconnected and called for a cab. Five minutes later, he was packed and stacked at the front door ready to go.

“Whatever you said to Bree had her running out of here in tears.” Logan sat at the table, peeling the label off his beer. “Are you sure you want to leave like this?”

Storm checked his watch. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. All I know is that I have to get back to Auckland to see if I can save my contract, my professional reputation, and my company. After today, they’re about all I have left.”

Logan pulled him into a guy hug, clapping him on the back. “Say good-bye to Pop at least. He didn’t look too good after you talked. He’s in his room.”

Storm dropped his briefcase and nodded. When he knocked on Pete’s door, he heard a grumble and let himself in. “I’m taking off.”

“Are you planning on coming back home?”

Damn, he wanted to think of Red Hook as home. He’d felt more at home here with Bree than he’d ever felt anywhere before in his life. Even the pain he felt
now couldn’t tarnish the sense of peace coming home had given him. He hoped it wasn’t lost. “I promised Nicki I’d be back to see her.”

“Good. I just hope it doesn’t take you another five years.”

“It won’t. Try to behave, Pop. I’ll see you.”

Pop got out of bed and grabbed him in a hug. “I love you, son. So does Bree. It’s my fault. I made her promise not to tell you.”

Storm’s eyes burned. “I’ve got a cab waiting. Bye, Pop.”

Pop released him. He grabbed his luggage and took the steps two at a time. The cab screeched to a halt when he hit the sidewalk. He climbed into the backseat, gave the driver Patrice and Francis’s address, and steeled himself to say good-bye to Nicki.

 * * *

Patrice and Rocki banged on Bree’s door until she opened it. Her eyes were swollen. She’d finally stopped crying, but the second she saw Patrice and Rocki, she broke down again.

Patrice pulled her into a hug. “Storm stopped by the house to say good-bye to Nicki.”

“How did she take it?”

“Much better than I expected. Within a few minutes she was smiling and playing with the girls again. It was weird. I don’t know what he said to her, but she only shed a few tears.”

Rocki looked Bree up and down, “You, however, did not take it as well. You look like a snot factory. What happened?”

It took Bree a few minutes until she could talk; then she went to the couch and collapsed. “Pete thought Nicki might be Storm’s child, and I didn’t tell him.”

Rocki crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her leopard-print kitten heels. “Why?”

Patrice passed Bree a handful of tissues.

“Because I was afraid that when he found out, he’d leave me. Because I’m selfish and stupid and a coward. Because I was too blind to see how much he’d changed, and I didn’t trust him.”

Patrice stood with her mouth open. Rocki just shook her head and, for the first time, kept silent.

Bree looked from one to the other. “Well?”

Rocki cocked her hip and rested her hand on it. “For once in your life, you’re right. So what are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do? I apologized. When I told him I loved him, he said he wasn’t sure I even knew my own mind, and then he left. He’s gone. He’s flying back to the Godzone. What can I do?”

Rocki rolled her eyes. “Is he the only one who can jump on a plane and fly to Auckland?”