Here Comes Trouble (18 page)

“It works for us if it does for you. We’re not risk free ourselves,” Jackson said, not quite able to cover the look of surprise in his eyes.

“We understand each other, Jackson. We both want to make sure those who deserve it get what’s coming to them. Mine’s just a bit more personal.” He covered Sheila’s hand with his and squeezed, unable to look in her direction as echoes of his earlier conversation with his doctor rang in his ears. “I rarely trust anyone, and even then it’s not easy. Aligning myself with you and your business is the right move. I’ll have Veronica draw up the papers and bring them to your office.”

“I’d be happy to work with her on the pertinent details,” Nathan said, and Sheila rolled her eyes at her brother’s eagerness.

“So.” Malcolm slapped his hands together, feeling more energized than he had in while. “What did your scan of that bill of lading reveal about where Dad’s keeping those stolen paintings?”

“Oliver Technologies has its own courier company, correct?” Nathan asked Malcolm.

“One thing the old man and I have in common. Dad doesn’t trust anyone, especially outsiders.” Malcolm confirmed.

“Well, it seems as if three large crates were picked up at what was Klein Storage six months ago and delivered to a private residence in Malibu.” Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out the scanned copy. “Does that address mean anything to you?”

Malcolm read the document, a slow smile creeping across his lips. “That’s the family beach house. As far as I know it isn’t used much. It would make sense for Dad to have the paintings kept there until he needed them.”

“Now that I have this”—Nathan tapped the jump drive—“I’m going to see what arrangements he’s made for those crates from here on. In the meantime, I’ll get the schematics to the house—”

“No need.” Malcolm reached for his tea. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get a look at them and confirm.”

“Yeah, because your dad’s just going to hand the keys over,” Sheila said.

“Don’t have to ask him.” He swirled the tea in his glass and smirked. “It’s Gran’s house.”

“I have an even better idea,” Jackson said. “Something to add that extra element of panic where you’re father’s concerned.”

“What are you thinking, Dad?” Nathan asked.

“I’m thinking Nemesis is ready to come out of hibernation. But first things first.” Jackson got to his feet and aimed a pointed glare at his daughter. “I am declaring tomorrow Nemesis and TIN free. Your sister’s had this barbecue planned for weeks and she expects you to be there. Malcolm, consider yourself invited if you haven’t been already.”

“I have been. By Wonder Woman, no less.”

Jackson snapped his fingers. “That reminds me, I have to remember to call about that delivery for the party.” He dug out his cell phone as he got to his feet.

“I, um,” Sheila stammered, and shredded what was left of her croissant. “I don’t know how long I’m going to stay at the party. I have a lot I have to get done—”

“Then I suggest you get it done today because you’re taking tomorrow—all of tomorrow—off. You hear me? You two, too.” Jackson pointed at Nathan and Malcolm. “Barbeques are firing up around nine.” Jackson rapped his knuckles on the table as if pounding a gavel. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

“I thought it would be harder coming here.” Through the closed windows of Malcolm’s rented SUV, Sheila smelled a hint of charcoal mingling with the promise of fireworks and celebratory festivities. “It feels like it should be harder.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Malcolm captured her restless hands as she gazed at the swaying tire swing hanging from one of the two giant oak trees in the front yard of the refurbished Victorian on Tumbleweed Lane. Her sister had worked miracles with the house not the least of which was giving the Fiorellis plenty of living space for their expanding brood of foster children. Sheila could only imagine what Morgan and Gage would do when it came to their recent home purchase just across the street.

“Brandon’s funeral.” It was the first time she’d said the words without feeling as if she was going to shatter. “You wouldn’t know it, but not so long ago this house could have rivaled the Addams Family for atmospheric monstrosity.”

The light-blue exterior accented with crisp plantation shutters and sturdy wraparound porch reminded her of how things could change for the better. In honor of the holiday, dozens of patriotic colored balloons had been tied to the railings and branches of trees. An enormous flag billowed in the breeze. A scene like this made art thievery and Nemesis feel worlds away.

“I can’t believe it’s been almost two months. All I can think about now is the day Gina rallied the troops and called in all hands to help Morgan fix this place up. She’d been trying to do it all herself so the Fiorellis could focus on the kids. On top of running the foundation, overseeing the center’s construction, and helping with the kids.”

“Jesus, it runs in the family.” Malcolm’s lightheartedness made her smile.

“Afraid so,” she chuckled and squeezed his hand. “Nearly forty people came that day. Friends, family. You’d have thought Home Depot exploded on the front lawn with all the trucks and tools lying about. But we did it. It was like setting her free so she could focus on her life.” And now her sister was doing just that. Starting her own life with the man she loved.

“It’s a beautiful home.”

“Mmmm. And that one”—she pointed up the street and off to the left at the pale pink two-story—“that’s project number two. Gage’s baby this time. Can you imagine refurbishing a house to relax?”

“Personally, sawdust makes me break out in hives. So.” He squeezed her fingers. “You done stalling?”

“Yes.” She sighed, unsure how she felt about him understanding her so well. “Hey.” She tugged him in when he pushed open the door. “I know this family thing is a little strange for you, but I’m glad you came with me today.”

He brought her hand up and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “So am I. Let’s go.”

She planted her wedged sandals on the grass as the front door crashed open and Kelley Black came flying out, a red towel tied around her neck, a sparkling gold rope looped around her waist.

“Sheila, you’re here.” Like one of those 1980s suction-cup cats, Kelley launched herself into Sheila’s arms and locked her arms around her neck. “Wait until you see what your daddy brought. It’s a bouncy house that looks like Wonder Woman’s invisible plane. It’s so cool!”

So that’s what her father had been up to yesterday.

“If it’s an invisible plane, how can you see it?” Malcolm asked as he circled around the SUV, unlatching the trunk as he passed before joining them.

“I’m Wonder Woman, remember?” Kelley rolled her eyes.

“Oh.” Malcolm inclined his head as Sheila hefted Kelley up higher on her hip. “Then how will we see it?”

Kelley bopped him on his head. “Because I said you can. Come on inside. Morgan and Angela are in the kitchen organizing all the food.” She kicked herself free and reached for Sheila’s purse to heft it over her shoulder, almost knocking herself off her feet when it whipped around and bashed her in the butt.

“Where’d you get the gold lasso?” Sheila asked.

“Gina made it for me.” Kelley twirled a la Wonder Woman and landed in her new trademark “bullet proof” pose. “Isn’t it great?”

“It’s perfect.” At least it would be until Kelley started tying people up. “Everyone here already?” She could hear the echoes of voices tumbling out of the backyard as she let Kelley pull her toward the front door while Malcolm unloaded the massive bowl of fruit salad she’d brought.

“Um.” Kelley’s nose wrinkled. “Lydia’s taking a nap. Drew is at Daniel and Theresa’s but they’ll all be here soon, along with Liza and Gina.” Kelley grabbed Sheila’s hand and dragged her toward the house. “Oh, wait until you see what me and Lydia have done with our room. And did you know Morgan and Gage have been making the basement into a game and play room? It’s going to be so cool. Gage is going to teach me and Aiden and Cedric how to play air hockey as soon as we get a table.”

“Sounds great.” Sheila’s stomach dropped as she rested her hand on Kelley’s head. When the little girl went silent, she bent down to her level and brought her in close with a hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”

Kelley dug the toe of her purple glitter–encrusted tennis shoes into the seam in the walkway. “I was just wishing Brandon was here for the fireworks tonight. He loved blowing things up.”

Sheila nodded. Her throat burned. An eight-year-old had an easier time battling her emotions than Sheila did. “Yes, he did.” She stroked the short blonde waves that not so long ago hadn’t existed. While she looked more like Tinker Bell than an Amazon warrior, costume non-withstanding, she was alive. Which was all that mattered. “I think part of me expects to see him racing around the yard with that tool belt of his.”

“Remember how his pants almost fell off?” Kelley giggled. “Because the hammer was too heavy?”

Sheila nodded again. When had smiling become painful?

“It’s okay to be sad.” Kelley planted her palms on Sheila’s cheeks as Malcolm stopped beside them. “Right?” She scrunched her face up at Malcolm.

“Definitely okay,” he agreed. “As long as you remember it’s okay to be happy, too. From what I hear about Brandon, that’s what he would have wanted.”

Kelley nodded so big her entire body rocked. “Yes, he would. Now come on.” She grabbed Sheila’s hand with both of hers, dragging her up the steps. “There’s so much for you to see.”

Before she knew it, Sheila was standing in the entry, the staircase looming above her, voices echoing from the kitchen. Malcolm edged her forward a titch so he could close the door. Kelley had vanished as Sheila inhaled the intoxicating aroma of baked beans, spicy barbeque sauce, and fresh baked bread, a staple of the Fiorellis given their recent foray into the bakery business.

“Where do I go?” Malcolm asked.

“Through there,” Sheila pointed to the doorway to the kitchen as she looked to the top of the stairs.

“You first.” Malcolm nudged her as if she were a stalled frog in a jumping contest. “I’m not going in there alone.”

“Coward.”

***

Malcolm watched from the kitchen window as Sheila kicked off her ridiculously impractical shoes and waded into the kiddie pool at the far end of the backyard with the mini pseudo-Amazon and the Juliano twins. A steady stream of friends and family began spilling into the backyard soon after he and Sheila arrived. Malcolm lost track of names within seconds, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling more welcome among a group of strangers.

The invisible plane Kelley had raved about looked more like a collection of giant clear plastic bubbles to him, but imagination was its own special magic at age eight. Far be it for him to counter Kelley’s interpretation of the bouncy house that currently occupied a good quarter of the backyard and housed what looked like every kid in the neighborhood.

He hadn’t realized the invitation to the party had extended to his own electrical crew along with Kent, the construction foreman, his husband, and the construction workers from the center. And then there were Gage’s former police colleagues, including two older cops and a young woman with long brown hair who everyone called Bouncer.

“How did you get stuck shucking all the corn?” Morgan Tremayne balanced a large watermelon in her arms and dropped it onto the island behind him.

“I said give me a job,” he said and pulled a handful of silk free from a glistening golden cob. “I guess hoping for a set of tongs and a slab of ribs was pointless.”

“With the amount of testosterone around here, you would’ve had to line up by six this morning to stake a claim at one of the fire pits.” Voices echoed in the front hallway. Doors banged. Children howled with laughter. And Morgan glowed. Her round, pale porcelain features were accentuated by the tight ponytail on top of her head. Her cutoff jeans and oversized red gingham shirt encased a much more lush and rounded figure than Sheila’s lithe one. It was the sisters’ differing views on footwear he found most amusing. Morgan’s feet were bare.

Morgan hefted herself up on the counter next to him and started to peel away husks. “Thank you for helping get her here.” Morgan angled a look outside as Sheila dumped a bucket of water over Gina Juliano’s head. “I’ve been trying for weeks to get her to come to the house. I was beginning to think it wouldn’t happen.” She poked a finger into his shoulder. “But you did it.”

“Nathan mentioned you’re the family crusader. You turned your grief into a fight.”

Morgan inclined her head, the surprise in her eyes making him smile. “I didn’t think he paid that much attention.”

“He pays more attention than you realize. They both do.” Malcolm had to remember to watch what he said. Morgan didn’t have any idea the length to which her family had gone in support of her work; the risks they’d taken. Or how much she’d inspired them. “You know, when I dated Sheila before—”

“Sorry I missed that go-round.”

“Yeah, you were at school. But Sheila couldn’t stop talking about you, about how you were going to change the world. I’d never seen that before in a family. The way you all support one another, how much you seem to care.”

“We love each other.” Morgan shrugged. “Nothing special about that.”

“Trust me, there is.”

Morgan tossed a shucked cob into the sink. “Your father did a real number on you, didn’t he?”

“It’s his specialty,” Malcolm admitted. “Profit and reputation above all else. Even family.”

“Then it’s no wonder the two of you never got along. You care about people, Malcolm. And I’m not talking about those checks you write. I saw it with Sheila earlier, and with Kelley the other day at the center. The fact that you came here today despite your terror.”

“Who squealed?”

“Please,” Morgan snorted. “You think I don’t know we intimidate the hell out of most people? But we’re like the mafia. Once you’re in, you’re in. No way out. I like you, Malcolm. Despite the fact you dumped my sister five years ago.”

“I didn’t dump her,” Malcolm said. “Exactly. Things got . . . complicated.”

“And now she’s happy again.” Morgan reached over and grabbed his arm, squeezed until he glanced over at her. “Because you’re here. And that’s all I care about.”

“I have been sent to retrieve the corn.” Nathan stumbled in the back door just as a water balloon exploded against the back of his head. He shook himself off like a wet dog and slammed the door as howls of laughter followed. Malcolm couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend look so . . . relaxed. The beige Bermuda shorts, the flip-flops . . . he looked like a reject from
Point Break
. “Malcolm, buddy. My old friend—”

“Warning, bullshit wading ahead.” Morgan hopped off the counter. “Methinks my brother has spotted your very single, very pretty lawyer.”

“Veronica’s not mine to speak for,” Malcolm said, chuckling as Nathan swatted at Morgan as she headed outside. “You’re welcome to give it a try, but I’ve seen more confident men than you get shot down.”

“You, my good man, underestimate my powers of persuasion. Not to mention my dazzling good looks.” He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, offered one to Malcolm, who declined, gesturing to the herbal iced tea he’d poured earlier. His stomach was doing the jumps again. “You, um, sure I’m not getting in the way of anything with you and Veronica?” Nathan asked.

“You’re asking me that knowing I’m involved with your sister?”

“Excellent answer.” Nathan toasted him. “And that was a big-brother test by the way. Tread carefully, my friend. For everyone’s sake.”

“Sheila knows what she’s getting into.” Malcolm finished with the corn and shoved the last of the cobs into a metal bucket. “I’m not staying.”

“Nothing stopping you, though. Just sayin’. Thanks for this.” He hefted the bucket and headed out to the grills. Sheila waved to him from outside, the smile on her face turning into a scream as she ducked under the force of three buckets being poured over her head. So much for keeping her snug cutoffs and blue peasant blouse pristine. He laughed, storing this memory away for later. When he needed to remember just how precious—and perfect—life could be.

***

“April sixth.” Theresa Juliano clasped her hands together against her ample chest and beamed at her son and future daughter-in-law. Sheila stood to the side, fingers over her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the expression on her sister’s face. At barely five foot nothing, the amount of power this woman wielded was astonishing. “You know what this means?” Theresa’s voice carried enough to capture the entire backyard’s attention. Even the group playing a ruthless game of Twister courtesy of giant spray-painted circles on the grass froze in place as their ears perked. “Oh, we can start planning the wedding.”

“You were not exaggerating.” Malcolm squeezed Sheila’s shoulder. “Morgan and Gage look like ducks in a shooting gallery.”

“I’m getting out of the line of fire,” Nathan said and ducked behind Malcolm. “Dad?”

“Right behind you,” Jackson agreed, clinking his bottle against Malcolm’s glass. “Watch yourself.”

“Wh-what?” Malcolm watched them leave. “Sheila, what is he talking—?”

“Relax.” Sheila patted his hand and tried not to giggle at the fear in his eyes. “This is one of Theresa’s calmer days. Hang on.” She wedged herself between Morgan and Theresa and felt her sister grab the waistband of her jeans as if ready to wield her like a shield. “The planning will have to wait a while. As duly appointed wedding consultant, I’m not available for another month at least.”