Tyler O’Neill’s Redemption (16 page)

He didn’t know that if she could go back in time she’d go to Paris in the 1800s. Or that her favorite book in third grade was
Little House on the Prairie.

All this paper, yellowed and soft with age, the pen fading to pencil as he went deeper into the box, carried clues about a sister he didn’t really know.

But he was determined to find out. To stick around and know her.

His future was wide-open and dusted with possibilities. He had a chance to make amends and earn back the family he’d left behind.

“You find anything?” Richard asked, his head poking up through the crawl space.

“No gems,” Tyler answered without looking up. Even as a kid, Savannah’s research was so freaking thorough, no wonder she became a professional researcher; it was like a gift or something.

“I’m thinking I must have missed something in the—”

“They’re not here, Dad,” he said, turning a page in the report only to find a drawn diagram of a penguin, adorable in its crudity. “We’ve been through every inch of this house. Every inch. And there are no gems.”

Richard wiped his forehead, leaving a trail of cobwebs and dust. “You might be right. But we haven’t really searched the—”

“I am right,” Tyler said, setting the report neatly back into the box. “This search is done. It should have been done before it even started, but as of now—” He put the lid back on the box and shoved it into its space in the eaves. He pulled out another box simply marked Katie.

A niece that he barely knew.

“It’s over,” he finished.

He tore off the lid. Dust and baby powder wafted up to him, a smell so foreign it could have been frankincense and myrrh.

“What you got there?” Richard asked, pulling himself up into the attic. The boards creaked and Richard paused, as if waiting for the floor to give up under him.

“Baby things,” Tyler said, taking out a pink blanket and what looked like a well-loved stuffed rabbit missing an ear. It was sticky, but smelled good, like jelly and baby shampoo. “Katie’s.”

It had been a few years since he’d seen his niece, but saying her name brought back the sensation of her hand in his, that wild-child spark in her eyes. He’d taken her down to the restaurant in the hotel where he’d been living and they’d had pancakes for dinner, ice cream for breakfast. He’d taken her swimming in the big wave pool and taught her to float on her back, her little belly sticking up like an island out of the water.

Tyler put the rabbit by his knee, pulling out a tiny pink baby hat and a hospital band.

Hope was a rocket he forced himself to sit on. Juliette hadn’t turned him down today, hadn’t laughed or smacked him. Instead, she’d stared at him with dry and level hazel eyes, and said she didn’t know.

It wasn’t a yes, but it sure as hell wasn’t a no, and that was all that mattered.

Though he wished, he really wished, that Katie was here. That Savannah was here. Margot. All of the women in his life that he’d neglected and abandoned. They could join hands with Juliette and yell at him, or whatever they wanted to do, but they’d be here.

“That’s my granddaughter,” Richard said, pulling out from the box a picture of Katie and Savannah in the courtyard, back when it was a jungle.

Tyler snatched the photo out of his father’s hands. “You’ve never even met her,” he snapped.

“Blood is blood, Tyler.”

“You sound like an idiot,” Tyler said. “Laying claim to people you left behind, like you have the right.”

“I was left,” Richard said, indignant. “Your mother took you children away—”

Tyler was stunned by the lies Richard kept telling himself to make his pathetic life okay. Though Tyler had to admit, he used to do the same.

“Remember my first big win?” Tyler asked.

“Of course,” Richard said, as if Tyler had won a college football game instead of taking people’s money.

“You’d gotten me that fake ID and paid my way into that big game in Henderson. I won more money than I’d ever seen. You said, ‘that’s my boy,’ and used my money to buy rounds for the bar.”

Richard looked taken aback. “It’s what you do—”

“It’s what
you
do,” Tyler said. “It’s the Richard Bonavie way, and I ate it up.”

But no more.

“You should think about moving on, Dad,” he said, stroking Katie’s blanket, the fine weave catching on his newly calloused fingers. “The gems aren’t here.”

“Where should we go?” Richard asked. “Back to Vegas? Europe? I know a guy who runs a game outside of Paris.”

Tyler looked up at him, Richard’s face so familiar it might as well have been his own.

“I’m not going with you,” he said. “I’m done.”

Richard looked confused. “With what?”

“With that life. With gambling and stolen gems. I’m done with the Notorious O’Neills. I want something better.”

“Done with it?” his dad asked, laughing. “Oh, so you’re just going to be someone else now? Like it’s that easy? You never graduated high school and you have no skills besides cards.”

“I think you’re getting us confused,” Tyler bit out.

“Yeah, well, you and me, we ain’t that different. You think you can just walk away from who you are, but trust me. Blood always wins out. I don’t know shit about that Notorious crap—but you are who you are and you can’t run from that.”

Dad left the attic, slamming doors behind him.

Part of Tyler wanted to follow him, insist that his father was wrong. That his life was a choice, not a legacy. But there wouldn’t be any point.

He was starting a brand-new life. Right now. This moment.

Tucking his niece’s artifacts back in the box, Tyler’s knuckles brushed something hard in the corner. He tilted the box to see.

At the bottom was a red velvet bag, shiny and worn with age and handling. An unraveling gold string kept the top pulled tight. A little girl’s treasure bag, he thought fondly, wondering if he should pry into it.

Curiosity won out and he scooped it up, surprised at its heft. He loosened the string, tipped it into his palm, and the red bag burped out a giant thirty-karat diamond.

The notorious part of your blood will always find you.

If this wasn’t some kind of cosmic proof, he didn’t know what was and it turned his stomach to lead. The hope that had been powering him since this afternoon sputtered and died.

He quickly ran over his options. He could hide the gem back in the box and pretend he’d never found it, but there was no guarantee that Dad wouldn’t come hunting up here tomorrow. Dad could
not
have this gem.

This can of worms could not be opened. Ever. Not if he wanted to keep Juliette.

How did this even get here?
he wondered, not sure which of his family members put it here. His mother? She was the most likely. She might have hidden the gem here when she broke in last month, but the attic was nearly impossible to get to.

Margot?
he wondered. But that didn’t make any sense—she’d been paying Mom stay-away money for years. If she really wanted Vanessa to stay away, Margot could have just given her the diamond.

Either way, word could not break that this gem had been found in The Manor. His family would be torn apart.

Tyler tucked it into his pocket, the weight like a fiery coal in his pants. Downstairs, he paused, waiting for sounds from his father making dinner, but the house was quiet.

Good.

Tyler went into his room and tucked the gem into a pair of black socks and then into his duffel bag. It would be safe there until he figured out what to do.

“Wow,” Miguel said, tilting his head. “I guess we should start on the house next, huh?”

“I didn’t think a new porch would be such a big deal,” Tyler answered. “But you’ve done a great job. You’ve got real talent as a carpenter.”

Miguel shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Tyler could see the boy preening under the praise. “You know, those houses we’re building are starting up pretty soon.” Miguel’s stillness was complete and Tyler got this wild sense of satisfaction, a total sureness that he was doing the right thing. “I could use you on a crew.”

“A job?”

“Yup.”

“A raise?”

“Probably not.”

Miguel blinked and blinked again. “You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Ah, kid, you’re gonna break my heart.
“I don’t?” he joked.

“I tried to steal your car and I’ve been coming—”

“Stop, Miguel. It’s been fun having you here. You’re clearly a good kid and frankly, it’s just a job,” Tyler said. “A hard one. Do you want it?”

Miguel kicked at the edge of the porch, his hands wrapped up in the extra baggy edge of his shirt. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

“Great! Now, I feel like we should celebrate.”

“You want to play cards?” Miguel asked. “Whenever I feel like celebrating I play a little hold ’em.”

“If nothing else, kid, you are persistent.” He gave the kid’s shoulder a shake. The boy had bulked up over the past three weeks. Between the food and the work, he’d become strong, was beginning to take the shape of a man.

“How about you come out to Remy’s with me tonight? Have some crawfish, listen to music.”

“I’m not old enough,” Miguel said.

“Oh, trust me, it don’t much matter out at Remy’s. Not if you come with me.”

The boy rubbed his cheek on the shoulder of his shirt. “I…I can’t be away from Louisa that long,” he said.

Tyler nodded. He’d forgotten about Louisa. “Of course. Then how about I go buy you a burger in town?”

“What about the chief?” Miguel asked. “She’s gonna be here in a little while to pick me up.”

“Oh, right,” Tyler said. “Well, she can come, too.”

“You guys still fighting?” Miguel asked.

“We were never fighting,” he lied.

“You know what girls like?”

“This should be good.”

“They like it when you tell them they have a nice butt. They pretend they’re offended, but they secretly love it.”

“You think I should tell the Chief of Police she has a nice butt?” Tyler asked.

“Worth a shot.”

Tyler howled. “Call her. Tell her to meet us.”

Primping for Tyler O’Neill.

Again.

She was about to sit across those cracked red Formica booths and try not to touch her leg to his. Try not to brush her fingers with his, and she was going to die a little every minute.

Nothing, absolutely nothing good could come of this.

At some point over the past few days, a slew of confusing and conflicted emotions and feelings had walked in the door forgiveness had opened.

Desire, for one. A big one.

Curiosity, another. Curiosity to see if it would be the same between them, as hot and consuming and mindless as she remembered.

And once she’d started thinking about hot and consuming and mindless sex with Tyler O’Neill, she’d been unable to stop. Which left her here, primping like a teenager.

She stepped out of her car, slamming the door behind her, and looked right into the laughing gaze of Tyler O’Neill staring out the window from their old booth.

He’d seen her. Great. Just great.

She was nineteen all over again, catching Tyler’s eye in this very place for the first time.

“You look beautiful,” Tyler said when she walked in the door.

She didn’t know how to take compliments anymore so she awkwardly nodded and blushed so hard her hair smoked.

The air smelled like fat and calories and her stomach practically leaped out of her body. It had been hours since her yogurt this morning. A kid in a paper hat and an ice-cream-splattered apron came and took her order for one of the Double Specials.

The kid seemed dumbstruck for a moment, such was the power of a little red lip gloss, and then shuffled off.

Without the boy there, her lips and tongue were heavy with all the things she needed to say.

I forgive you. I miss you. Can you make me feel like you used to?

“Where’s Miguel?” she asked, and Tyler pointed behind her at the far booth.

Miguel sat, arm across the top of the seat, looking every inch like Tyler a decade ago—talking to two girls who couldn’t seem to get a word out without giggling.

“Oh, boy,” she muttered.

Tyler laughed. “We ordered and the second those girls walked in he was gone.”

“You hurt?”

“Tremendously,” he said, and pushed a red plastic cup filled with ice and soda at her. “Might as well drink this, Miguel won’t notice.”

She took the soda and felt as if she stood on the edge of a cliff, breathless and scared. There was so much to say and she didn’t know how to start. Where to start.

She looked to Tyler for help.

The air between them sizzled. It was too hot to talk.

“So, we’re done with the porch,” he said, looking away, playing it cool.

She blinked, unable to change directions so quickly.

“That’s…ah…that’s great,” she said.

Tyler nodded, stretching his own arm across the top of the bench seat. His was darker from all the hours spent outside, his hair bleached nearly white by the sun, and she had to force herself not to stare. Not to follow every curve of muscle and pulse of vein with her eyes.

“He’s going to take the job I offered him.”

“I expected he would.”

“Has he told you how counseling is going?” Tyler asked, clearly unfazed by the pheromones in the air. “He won’t tell me anything.”

Talking business cooled her off and she managed to relax in her booth, stretching her legs out beside Tyler’s. “I think it’s helping Miguel and Louisa. Ramon is actually going to some of the sessions, too.”

“Really?” Tyler asked, as surprised as Juliette had been when she’d heard.

“But he’s still drinking. He spent the night in the drunk tank last weekend.”

Tyler sighed heavily through his nose. “I wish we could get those kids out of there.”

“I’ve applied to be a foster parent,” she said, letting her little secret out into the light of day. Tyler’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“What?” she snapped. This is why she hadn’t told anyone, because people would think she was crazy.

“That’s a fantastic idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. What’s happening?”

“I have one more orientation meeting and then a home visit before I’m approved.”

“Wow.” Tyler smiled. “That seems fast. Is that fast?”

Juliette nodded. “Nora’s helping me. She’s worried about Miguel and Louisa, too.”

“Nora Sullivan?” Tyler asked. “Are we talking about the same woman?”

“I know, but trust me, she’s actually a big softie.” Well, maybe
softie
was a bit of a stretch, but she certainly wasn’t quite the bulldog she appeared to be.

“I’m proud of you, Juliette,” he said, so serious, so earnest. “The world needs more police chiefs like you.”

Without even thinking, she put her hand over his, like putting her palm on a fire. Small explosions blasted through her and she wanted more. Unwittingly, she wrapped her fingers around his palm, feeling the calluses and warmth. The life.

His eyes flickered shut for a moment, as if he felt it all, too, and he just couldn’t bear it.

“I talked to my dad,” she whispered, the words spilling out of her mouth like water from a fountain. “He told me what he did. Your father’s address and everything. I understand why you left and I understand why you kept him a secret when you came back.”

Tyler’s throat bobbed and she could hear his breath sawing out of his lungs. The world had shrunk down to them. To the air between them. His eyes and her need to touch him.

“Will you tell me about finding him?” she asked.

He closed his eyes and pulled his hand away from hers, leaving her palm cold and empty. “You don’t want to hear about it, trust me.”

“You’re wrong,” she breathed, and grabbed his wrist, her fingers on his pulse. “I want to hear everything about the last ten years. Talk to me,” she said, tilting her head, trying to smile. “I used to have to beg you to shut up, remember?”

His lip twitched.

“It was like you’d never talked to anyone before,” she said, laughing. “Some nights, I’d just put the phone on my pillow and take a little nap.” A lie, they both knew it. She’d hung on his every word.

“I’d never talked to anyone like you,” he said, his eyes roving over her face. “Never to anyone who listened like you.”

“I’m listening now,” she said. “Tell me how you found your dad.”

After a long moment his thumb brushed her hand and his fingers curled around hers, holding her hand in his palm like a little bird. “He was in Vegas, just like your father said. He’d just won a big purse and he loved showing me what a big man he was. He let me move in and within six months the money was gone. He’d been kicked out of most of the games in town, so I started to play to support us, keep us off friends’ couches.” He shrugged. “We’ve been a happy little family ever since,” he said, the sarcasm a cloud around him.

It hurt her, that sarcasm, because it didn’t even begin to hide the pain.

“I’m sorry, Tyler,” she said, and he held up his hand.

“Whatever happens, from now on, no more apologies,” he said. “We were kids. Your father was wrong, I was wrong. And maybe, just a little bit, you were wrong—”

“Me?”

“Talking about giving up law school?” Tyler tsked his tongue.

“My decision,” she said. “Not yours, not my father’s. Mine.”

“You’re right. That was up to you,” he said, waving his hands and absolving her of guilt. He wasn’t joking. Again, the fact that he didn’t hold a grudge just killed her.

Was there a chance? A real chance that this man was as good as she wanted to believe? Was the truth, the shining, diamond-hard truth buried under dirt and distraction, that he was a rare man? One who deserved her love and respect? Her adoration?

There was only one way to find out. She had to try.

“Then no more lies,” she said. “I won’t apologize anymore, but you can’t keep anything from me anymore.”

No lies?
Tyler thought, his stomach bottoming out.

Like, I found a priceless stolen gem in my grandmother’s attic? A gem that could implicate my whole family in who knows what kind of mess?

You can trust her,
he thought, desperate because the weight of this gem was growing slightly intolerable. But one look at her face, so earnest, so firm and beloved, and he knew he could not get her wrapped up in this.

This gem was Notorious O’Neill business all the way.

“Is that so hard?” she asked. There was a smile on her lips, but he could see the balances in her eyes, the way things were tipping out of his favor the longer he waited.

He’d call Carter, should have done it yesterday. The two of them could figure this out. Make a plan. Ditch the diamond someplace where no one would ever find it.

She would never know.

“No lies,” he said, and nodded. “I can do that.”

Luckily the waiter showed up with a tray of food, preventing him from having to elaborate.

“Miguel!” Tyler called, waving him away from his girls.

The smell of cheese and bacon and pickles wafted up from the foil-wrapped treasures in front of them and Juliette dug in. Her appetite had always been one of those things Tyler loved about her. Watching her eat food had turned into one of the more erotic aspects of their relationship. He didn’t even want to guess the number of ice cream cones he’d watched that girl demolish.

“Oh,” Juliette groaned, and Tyler’s body went hot. The woman even made a cheeseburger sexy. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Hey!” Miguel said, coming to stand at the edge of their table. “You drank my pop.”

“You snooze, you lose,” Juliette said, taking a big slurp.

“That’s cold, Chief,” Miguel said. “Cold.”

Miguel reached over and snagged a handful of Juliette’s fries and her smile was something new, or rather, something old. The old Juliette sat here, surrounded in sparkle and gold dust. His heart leaped and love flooded him.

Tyler felt removed for a moment, lifted away from the scene as if watching it from miles away. Juliette threw a French fry at Miguel, who reached over and stole another handful. She laughed and appealed to Tyler, but he could only smile.

A certain kind of fear trickled into Tyler’s stomach. A fear that this was as close as he would get to real family—and that it could all be taken away from him.