Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore (29 page)

“What was it like moving here?”

Jericho thought of the mother he hadn’t known, the loud stepfather who made a living in sales, and the transition from the harsh but beautiful terrain in Wales to Boston’s thriving city culture. “I thought I might go insane until Abby was born. Keeping up with her gave me something to do besides get into fights with the other boys at school.”

She reached across the console, taking his hand and laying it against her cheek. “You’re a good man, Jericho.”

“I’m running out of road here.”

“Turn right at the next light. It’s another two blocks down.” She brushed her lips over the tips of his fingers until his cock was pushing uncomfortably at his fly. “That night when you, Dante, and I made love for the first time, you said something I didn’t understand.”

“Welsh.” He remembered that moment, when he’d felt more connected to the two of them than he ever had to another living creature.

“Say something in Welsh.”

“Mae’n golygu i byd a mi pan fyddwchyn dweud ein caraid wneud.” It means the world to me when you say we made love. The statement was so easy to say in a language he knew she couldn’t understand.

“It sounds like you’re swallowing your words!”

He loved the musical sound of her laughter. He loved the way she made him feel. He loved the way she pushed Dante out of his selfish mode. He loved her, just as he’d always loved Dante. Even when he hadn’t realized that was what he felt.

“You can just stop at the front and let me out.” Her enthusiasm died as Jericho slowed the truck to wind his way through the media circus camped in front of the building.

It looked as though someone had decided to hold a press conference at the front doors. Jericho’s protective instincts went on full alert. “Let me drive around the corner, and we’ll work our way back that way.”

“No, no, no.” She was already scratching at the door, trying to find the handle. “That fucking asshole! He can’t. He can’t do that to her.”

She finally found the latch and threw the door open, sliding out of the truck before Jericho could brake to a complete stop. “Suri! Stop! Wait for me.”

Cursing, Jericho swung over to the curb, wedging his big truck between two news vans and cutting the engine. He leaped out the door and slammed it shut, ducking around the back and trying to see which way Suri had gone.

Suri wondered what the odds were that this whole thing was because of someone else’s mother. The way her luck usually went, slim and none were probably her best chances.

She dodged a TV crew, the lady reporter checking her teeth in a mirror. The media seemed to be everywhere. Had O’Callaghan actually called a press conference here at the nursing home? What purpose could this possibly serve? The guy was a politician. Surely it wasn’t good for his campaign to publicly announce the existence of a former mistress suffering from a debilitating disease and her stripper daughter.

The staff of Our Lady was standing at the front entrance, trying their level best to bar the unwanted parade of reporters. Suri dashed up the ramp, feeling as if she’d just run a gauntlet.

“Jen? Is that you?”

“Nance!” Suri pushed her panic to the back of her mind. This was no time to lose her composure.

“Thank God you’re here.”

“What’s going on?”

“I was hoping you could answer that, Ms. Robertson.” The administrator, Nicolette Spaulding, pushed her way in front of Nance. “These people are here to speak to your mother. We can’t tolerate her creating this type of disruption. It isn’t healthy for the other residents.”

“You think my mother caused this?” Suri was ready to strangle the snooty bitch. They’d already gone toe-to-toe plenty of times over her mother’s bills.

Jericho appeared by Suri’s side, putting an arm around her shoulders. His commanding presence made Nicolette back up a step. “Is Ms. Robertson’s mother in any condition to cause a commotion like this?”

“Well, no.”

“Then if you’d be kind enough to let us inside, perhaps we can try and straighten things out.” Jericho took another step forward and used his badass aura to drive his point home.

Was this what it felt like to truly have someone on your side? Suri wanted to weep with relief. Reaching down, she put her hand in Jericho’s and hung on tight, reassured by the gentle squeeze she received in return.

As soon as they got inside the building, she saw her sister, Kim, cowering by the wall. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a too-small T-shirt. Her messy blonde hair was stuffed up into a plastic clip, and she was wearing last night’s makeup. Years of dealing with her sister’s bad choices told Suri in no uncertain terms what had happened.

“What did you do?” Suri demanded.

“I didn’t know this would happen.” Kim’s whining made the hairs on the back of Suri’s neck stand on end. “He offered me money.”

“Who?”

“Some guy named Flaherty. He came to the apartment. Wanted to know all about you. The dude had hundred-dollar bills, Jenny.”

Flaherty? Flaherty had gone to her apartment and asked questions about her? Was the asshole trying to get vengeance for the incident at the Triptych, or was he using Suri’s connection to O’Callaghan to discredit a political rival? Either way, the man deserved a second pistol whipping.

Jericho already had his phone to his ear and was talking in terse monosyllabic sentences to someone on the other end. Probably Dante. Great. Just what she needed. The two of them were going to decide she was far more trouble than she was worth.

Suri counted to twenty, forcing herself to calm down. There was no point in yelling at Kim. Her sister would dissolve into a watery mess and be useless. “What did you tell him? I need to know everything.”

“He asked if we were full or half sisters and where our mom lived. I told him your father was some politician named O’Callaghan and mine was a bouncer from Mattapan. Don’t worry. I made sure he knew my dad married our ma. When I told him she got sick and we had to put her here, he was really sympathetic. He paid me like six hundred bucks.”

“You
told
him that?” Sometimes Kim’s complete lack of sense was frightening.

“It’s true, isn’t it? You’re some rich guy’s cum stain, and Ma married my dad cause she loved him.”

Being called a cum stain was the least of her worries. Suri buried her face in her hands, trying to see a way out of this. It was obvious what had happened. Flaherty had found a massive weapon to use against Liam O’Callaghan in his last-ditch attempt to secure a senate seat. Her. But the election was today. Why wait until the last possible second?

Jericho slid his phone back into his pocket and moved in close. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She had the oddest feeling that if she could stay right there forever, things might not turn out so bad. He smelled so good. His body heat soothed the tension from her muscles, even though she knew it could only be temporary.

“Wow, who’s the hottie?”

The obvious interest in Kim’s tone made Suri roll her eyes. Her sister had just screwed up so epically there was no possible way to fix it, and she picked Jericho’s hotness to focus on?

Jericho ducked his head to murmur in her ear. “Dante is on his way. He’ll have an idea how to handle this.”

She wanted to believe him. But she didn’t like the idea of putting Dante in a position like this. “This is business, Jericho. This shit is the sort of thing Dante keeps files on. I’m the best kind of ammunition there is.”

Jericho put his thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re not business.”

UNTIL HIS CAR pulled up in front of Our Lady of Perpetual Hope, Dante had thought Jericho was exaggerating. The sidewalk in front of the private nursing facility was littered with camera crews and news anchors. It looked like paparazzi gone wild.

He leaned forward, touching the driver’s arm. “Felix, drive around back, will you?”

Felix didn’t comment, used to Dante slipping past security or through side entrances to avoid the spotlight.

Jericho’s quick and dirty rundown of Flaherty’s idiotic decision to use Suri like a political game piece, combined with what Dante had already learned about her past, put him in a complicated spot. Complicated because what he should have done was contact Liam O’Callaghan and find out how much he wanted Dante to call in some favors from his local contacts to bury the story and make it yesterday’s news. Then Dante would contact Flaherty, issue the necessary threats, tighten the noose, and cut off his balls. Flaherty was already banned from every illicit club on the East Coast. Offering him amnesty would be a powerful motivator. The entire situation would leave Dante with favors from two heavy-hitting Massachusetts political figures.

But that would have required him to throw Suri under the bus. No matter how much business sense it might have made, Dante couldn’t do it. He couldn’t discredit her, drag her through the mud, call her a whore, and make her mother the scarlet woman of Boston.

That would’ve hurt her, and it would’ve hurt Jericho. Neither was acceptable.

“Mr. Torres?” Felix glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Jericho’s truck is here, Felix. Just head on back to the club and tell Terrence to open as usual this evening, no matter where the two of us are.”

“Sir?”

Dante gave the bouncer his best devil-may-care smile. “You heard me. We’ll be fine.”

“All right.”

He stepped out of the Lincoln and watched it disappear down the street on its way back to Dorchester. Too bad he couldn’t just pack up Jericho and Suri and follow it home.

How had this all become so complicated? Was it somewhere between feeling Jericho’s hands in his hair as Dante sucked his cock and fucking Suri’s tight little ass while Jericho filled her pussy? Or had it happened when he’d drifted off to sleep with Suri snuggled up beside him and Jericho’s arms wrapped protectively around them both?

Thoughts like those were best left for later. At the moment, he had something else to focus on. The layout of the nursing facility was straightforward. Dante entered through a side door probably left ajar by an employee sneaking out for a smoke. He took a direct path through the resident hallways, passing a glass-enclosed courtyard and a giant birdcage.

When he finally reached the main lobby, he could see Suri huddled in Jericho’s arms. They’d retreated to a corner away from the front windows. A waif-thin blonde paced nearby. She was nibbling her fingernails like an addict needing a fix. He couldn’t imagine that creature being related to Suri, but it was obviously her sister.

Jericho took immediate note of his entrance, murmuring to Suri. When she lifted her head, Dante could see she was trying desperately not to lose control. Her expression, more than anything else, told him this was the right choice. She belonged with them, no matter what.

“I’m so sorry, Dante.” Her voice was strung so tight he expected to hear it crack.

He met Jericho’s gaze over her head, opening his arms to embrace her. It was tempting to pull Jericho close as well, but Dante could see his friend was deep into his protector mode. Nothing escaped his sharp gaze. He was watching Kim, the staff, and the reporters gathered outside.

“Did you call him?” Jericho’s lips barely moved when he talked, his tone pitched for Dante’s ears only.

“Yes.”

“And?”

The barest shake of his head and Dante knew Jericho understood. Flaherty had been unwilling to call off the dogs. Jericho’s body stiffened until Dante could see the rage outlined in every muscle.

Suri lifted her head. “I should go out there and say something. I’ll just take the blame—lie or something. You’ll wind up with so much ammo against the two of them that Asylum will be set for life.”

“Princess, you’d make a terrible politician,” Dante teased.

Jericho’s patience was too far gone for jokes. “So?”

Dante thought about Senator O’Callaghan’s reaction to meeting Suri at the luncheon. “The fund-raiser was the first time you’d ever laid eyes on your father, wasn’t it?”

She nodded.

“You’re certain? Your mother didn’t meet with him when you were little? She never dated him; he never helped you guys out?” Dante could tell by the loosening of Jericho’s jaw he was starting to get the picture.

“Ma and Liam had a short relationship while he was a student at Harvard and she was waiting tables at a bar in Allston.”

He saw a potential hole in his plan. “Waiting tables? Or stripping?”

“Does it matter?”

Dante placed a kiss on her forehead. “You of all people know I have no problem with strippers. They’re beautiful women who deserve respect just like anyone else. But yes, in this case, it does matter.”

“She was a waitress. She never stripped. She’s always had two left feet and no sense of rhythm. She got pregnant with Kim two years later by a bouncer at one of her jobs, and they got married. After that, she started tending bar.”

“Call him.” Jericho’s voice was hard.

Suri looked from Jericho to Dante. “Call who?”

“Liam.”

“You’re going to call him down here? They’ll eat him alive! After what Kim told Flaherty, I’d be shocked if they weren’t already camped out in front of his house.”

“Which is why we need to hurry up and talk to him before he makes a move,” Jericho insisted.

Dante thought of the clipped conversation he’d had in the Lincoln on the way over. “I already did.”

Jericho visibly relaxed, but Suri grabbed the front of Dante’s dress shirt as if she were searching for an anchor in a storm. “Why would you do that?”

He gently threaded his fingers through hers, lowering her hands and saving his buttons. “Because the only way for this to end without Flaherty being declared the winner is for you to reconcile with a father you’d never really known until today.”

“But my mother, she can’t—I can’t do this to her.” Big, fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“He’s going to have to pay for her care,” Jericho guessed. “That’s the only way for him to come out of this looking like the good guy.”

“What are you talking about?” Suri’s tone suggested she was at wit’s end.