Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2) (15 page)

She didn’t know why, and she tried not to be hurt, and she’d mostly succeeded, but still, a tiny part of her felt a twinge of disappointment. Neither he, nor her fallback position Nigel, was answering their phones, so she figured they caught a case and she would see them when they were done. Well, one of them in particular, at least she hoped so.

There was much to discuss, over whatever he planned to make for dinner. She’d even planned to keep her clothes on for most of it! Snorting at her train of thought, and the puzzling need to lie to herself, she continued dusting until each cabinet was clean. The phone still hadn’t rung, and she wasn’t waiting around.

On her way home, she stopped by the Elbow Room and picked up a flat ironed steak sandwich with extra horseradish and onion rings to go. At least if she was alone, she didn’t have to worry about having scary breath.

Nahia had more than enough scary things in her life to deal with right now, anyway. In addition to the amazing video they’d captured, her recorder and Nigel’s both managed to document the experience in the room. There were things she hadn’t heard at the time, or maybe had just been too freaked out to process. Things McManus said, phrases that made no sense in context. She wanted Nico’s take on them, as well as to discuss the potential final return trip to the house.

As much as she didn’t want to cause friction with him by going back to the house, it was too dangerous to let random people wander unaware into the house. Nothing riled a ghost up like messing with their environment, and refurbishing a house definitely qualified.

She dropped her take out on the coffee table and toed off her shoes, flopping onto the couch with a huff. Half a sandwich in one hand, remote in the other, Nahia flipped through the channels on her TV, finally settling on the original ‘Jaws’, because watching a big sentient fish attack hapless beachgoers never failed to make her smile. Her lips twitched at the idea, wondering what Nico and his psychology background would say about that.

Realizing horseradish without a drink was a bad idea, she went to the kitchen for a glass of honey whiskey with a splash of lemonade for color over ice. Nothing like a getting a good brood on alone, in her apartment, on a Monday. Not so much that Tuesday would be an issue, but enough to make Monday suck a little less.

She was on her way to dump her stuff in the trash when a noise at the door stopped her. It was almost a knock, followed by a heavy sliding sound. Her gaze fell to the knife block on the counter before deciding she’d look first and fillet later. One look through the peephole had her throwing back the locks and flinging open the door.

It was Nico on her doorstep, face haggard, suit disheveled, jacket crumpled in his hand, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He had one arm braced against the door jamb, like standing up straight was no longer possible. He looked in her eyes, took a deep, quivering breath, and said, “Nahia, she’s gone,” right before collapsing into her arms.

He’d been too late. The hostage situation had run well into the evening and the phone calls and texts had started around 5:00. Her concussion was actually more severe than they’d realized initially, and eventually, she’d succumbed to complications from a clot. Nico tried to find solace in knowing she hadn’t suffered, but it was cold comfort for a man who couldn’t come when she’d needed him most.

After the first voicemail he’d gone straight to the hospital, hearing the news in the chapel from Peter, who’d been surprisingly calm for a man who’d just lost his mother. Nico wasn’t nearly so self-possessed, collapsing into a pew in mute despair. Every kindness she’d done him, every meal prepared, every piece of advice she’d given him ran through his mind all at once like the loudest opera ever, with the requisite all-death ending.

The noise only got louder as he called his mom and then his Nonna. Inconsolable would have been the polite word, completely undone was more accurate. Wailing, gnashing of teeth, and flight plans. They would be here tomorrow. It was too much at once.

He’d had to leave, to get away from the antiseptic smell and the carefully apologetic doctors. As sadness and rage warred within him, he knew he couldn’t go back to work, couldn’t even process trying to write a report today, but neither could he go home. The thought of being alone right now, there was not enough liquor on the planet to accommodate such a fate. At wit’s end, he could think of nowhere else to go.

Nahia took him into her arms without question, her strength and compassion a much needed balm to his completely disarrayed emotions. She said nothing as she led him to her couch and sat him down, lowering the volume and pulling him close to hold him with his head on her shoulder and her arms around him. It took a little doing, but she arranged them on the couch with her head on the pillow at one end and him sprawled out on top of her with his head under her chin, her arms solid and consoling as she held him, a buoy for him to cling to in a turbulent sea. The end of Jaws on the TV made him smile weakly, Mrs. I’s favorite movie, and they lay on the couch in murmuring quiet occasionally punctuated by a John William’s score.

“You’re surprisingly comfy.” He smiled against the soft skin of her chest as the movie ended. She smelled like honey and lemons, and her fingernails running over his scalp and down between his shoulder blades seemed to draw the stress out of him one stroke at a time, leaving peace in their wake.

Her chest shook with silent laughter and she leaned up to kiss the top of his head like he’d done so many times to her. “What are friends for?” She plucked her chunky glass tumbler from the table and took a sip above him before pressing the glass into his hands. “I think you might need this more than I do.”

“Thanks.” He leaned up slightly, taking a sip and immediately regretting it. “I had no idea you liked antifreeze,” he rasped, his throat suddenly raw from the potent potable.

Nahia blinked slowly at him and took her glass back, throwing the rest back in one long swallow before leaning over to put it back on the table.  “What? I was at home, wasn’t driving. Figured I could drink what I want.”

He sat up, only to lean on his knees and hold his head in his hands. Though neither her words nor tone implied any kind of upset, he felt like he should apologize. “I didn’t call.”

She sighed deeply and dropped her head back onto the couch. “I know.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he added, “I had a situation.” He didn’t like talking about being a negotiator, because it gave people all kinds of misconceptions about him. It wasn’t something he hid, exactly, just didn’t discuss.

Nahia raised her head, her expression curious, but otherwise impassive. “I didn’t ask.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up involuntarily. She didn’t ask questions of him, but he always felt like spilling his guts to her anyway. “It was the concussion. She threw a clot, had a stroke.”

“I’m sorry.” It was a platitude that he knew she meant from her heart.

“Nonna and my mom are beside themselves. They’re flying in tomorrow.” His mind started swimming with the thoughts of picking them up and accommodations. They’d only seen his new place and city in pictures. He normally went home to see them a few times a year. The farther his mind travelled down that road, the more anxious he became. “You have anything besides that scary shit you’re drinking?”

She nodded and hoisted herself off the couch gracefully, taking her glass with her. Pausing in front of him, she trailed her fingers across his cheek, asking, “Stronger or not as?”

He caught her hand and kissed her palm, so unbelievably grateful for her kindness and empathy. “Regular whiskey if you’ve got it. That diesel fuel you’re drinking damn near blinded me.”

Nahia snorted and waved off his whining, putting a little extra swish in her step to show how much she didn’t care about his disapproval of her liquor choices. “I can handle that.” She came back a moment later with a shot glass filled with a liquid so red it was almost black. “Here.”

Nico took the offered glass and threw it back in one swallow, feeling his throat and taste buds mutiny immediately for the second time that evening. “Holy Christ, that was awful!” he croaked. “What the hell was it?”

She smirked and took the glass back to the kitchen, running some water in it before setting it next to the sink on a rack to dry. “Lacryma Christi. I thought it was appropriate.”

The tears of Christ, given his mood, she couldn’t have been more right. “You are an intriguing woman, Nahia Nizhoni.” Intriguing, kind, humble, loveable, unimpeachably old school, and so many other things that drew him to her. Just being in her presence was a comfort to him at this point.

“I’m glad you think so.” She killed the light in the kitchen, leaving them bathed in the bluish glow of the television and the far off golden shimmer of the streetlights below. When she got to the couch next to him, she held out her hand. “Come on.”

He allowed her to pull him to his feet and then waited while she shut off the TV. When she returned to his side, she linked her fingers with his and led him to the bedroom, but he pulled up short after a couple steps. “I didn’t come for this.” He appreciated the sentiment, and the gesture, but that wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d showed up on her doorstep.

The flash of teeth in her gentle smile caught his eye. “I know.” Nahia pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of him and untying his shoes. She dispensed with them and his socks before reaching for his belt buckle.

He stayed her hand by lightly grasping her wrist. “You don’t have to do this.” When she only blinked in response, he released her hand and she resumed her work, opening his belt and pants, and starting on the buttons of his shirt. “I didn’t bring anything to sleep in.”

Her lips twitched and eyes shone in amusement, but she was undeterred. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow.” She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, leaving it pooled around his wrists and him clad only in his tank top and open pants.

Nahia got to her feet and dragged him with her, his pants skinning down his legs in record time. She collected them, and his shirt, and folded them before setting them on the chaise lounge across the room.

“I need to call and see what the arrangements are for Mrs. I.” He wasn’t looking for reasons to leave, but it felt strange to have her silently tending to him in an almost reverent, loving manner.

She made quick work of her jeans and tank top before folding back the covers of the bed. The sight of her in only tiny emerald lacy panties while bent over the bed was quite the distraction, though probably unintentional on her part. “Also will be dealt with tomorrow.” Patting the spot on the bed beside her, she beckoned him to her side.

Nico thought about denying her, even though he was mostly naked, as was she, but the emotional depletion of the day weighed heavily on him, and in the end it was easier to get some sleep and, as she put it, deal with everything else tomorrow.

As soon as he slid into the bed, she adjusted the covers and turned on her side away from him, reaching back to pull him close around her. Nahia laced her fingers with his over her belly and snuggled back into him with her back against his chest and her legs fitted around his. Her hair smelled of chocolate and coconut as he nestled his face in it before brushing it aside to kiss the side of her neck. “Thank you,” he whispered into the darkness.

She turned her head back to meet his lips once before getting comfortable again. “Don’t mention it.”

Nico was up and gone early in the morning, well before her 9:00 a.m. alarm, but Nahia wasn’t surprised. He’d been out of sorts when he’d arrived, and any hurt she’d felt had dissipated as soon as she’d taken in his harried appearance. She’d given in to her need to support and comfort him, because he looked so ready to break. He hadn’t even looked that way on the ghost hunt, and that was after the whole flying furniture thing.

Her morning was slow. She showered leisurely, drank her coffee without haste, and made it to work on time. It was almost like her life was normal again, only it wasn’t. There was still the matter of the house, the safety on the workers who would be doing the remodel, Nico’s somewhat-grandmother’s death, and the impending arrival of the greater Verrazzano clan. 11:00 a.m. was too early to start drinking, right?

“You look like you could use this more than me.”

Nahia blinked as Mags handed off her delicate cup of tea, her mind hearing her words to Nico from last night clearly. She’d made it into the middle of the store before the thoughts racing around her brain had impeded her physical progress. Leaving her standing there, arms still laden with her bags, and nothing to show for it. She shook her head to reorder her brain. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Thank you.” She sipped the tea and continued on to put her stuff away behind the counter.

Mags raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter. “Rough night?”

“Not for the reason you’d suspect.” She set the pink china cup on its matching saucer in front of her redheaded friend. It was still half full. Blindly, she reached up onto the shelf and pulled down her box of tarot cards and began shuffling.

“You and Nico have a fight?” Even as she asked the question, she looked like she didn’t believe that could possibly be the answer.

She shook her head. “No, his…” she groped for the word, “semi-grandmother passed away last night.” Even as she said it, she kept her hands moving, like that would soothe her brain. When the moment felt right, she set the deck down and cut it.

Mags straightened away from the counter and sobered immediately. “Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.” She cocked her head to the side, a strange, but serene smile coming to her face.

Nahia knew that look well. “Whatcha seein’?”

The redhead in the billowy white shirt that hung off her shoulder snorted before she managed to contain the laughter. Her eyes cleared and she sipped her tea primly as her gaze settled back on her friend. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“You know I hate it when you do that, right?” She smiled in spite of her irritation and began her three card spread. Guidance right now would be greatly appreciated, because with all the different branches of the mayhem tree breaking off in her life, finding the trunk would be optimal.

First card was the Death card, upright. Neither terribly auspicious nor unexpected, given the reason for her spread. It represented transitions, transformations, endings and beginnings. Most likely referring to Mrs. Iannuci’s passage from this world to the next, as well as the advance and transformation of her relationship to Nico, it wasn’t the horrible card it was billed to be.