Cover Me (9 page)

Chapter Four

Mack called Remy as soon as he left Landry’s and filled him in.

“You mean he lied to you?” Remy asked.

“He sure as hell did. He and Barnaby and the mayor are tight, too. Makes me wonder if he enlisted Barnaby to frame me.”

“Son of a bitch,” Remy said. “So what are you going to do?”

“Prove I’m innocent.”

“If Landry is working for the mayor,
they might both be misusing the rebuilding funds.”

“I’ll try to access his files on Lily’s computer and check his financials.”

“Sounds good.”

“Whatever happened to Angelica?”

Remy chuckled. “Hell, you haven’t heard? She’s a narc now.”

“Wonders never cease,” Mack said. “How can I contact her?”

“On the streets, just like always.”

Mack thanked him then hung up.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Landry.

Or Lily and his son.

A pang shot through him. Winston looked so much like him. If only he hadn’t overheard the confrontation between his father and his grandfather.

Part of him wanted Landry to be guilty so he could arrest him. But putting him in jail would hurt Lily.

And his son.

Winston had probably been snowed by Landry’s
money.

The very thought galled Mack. He wanted his child to learn values, that you had to work hard to get what you wanted, that it wasn’t handed to you on a silver platter.

God knew nothing had ever come easy to him.

Except police work. Playing the underbelly came naturally.

So did living in the bayou.

What would Winston and Lily think about the hole-in-the-wall where
he kept residence?

Hell, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

Right now he needed to clear his name.

So he headed back to Lily’s. She would probably be with Winston and her father for a while.

It was the perfect time to look at her computer.

And if he didn’t find anything to help him in her files, he’d find a way to hack into Landry’s.

* * *

L
ILY
KNOCKED
ON
THE
DOOR
to the guest room her father had had designed for Winston. The room was decorated with sports memorabilia that her father had thought would impress Winston.

But neither she nor her dad had been able to be the substitute father Winston needed.

No one had filled that spot. But Mack was back, and he wanted that role.

How could she deny either of them that?

She knocked
again and heard a muffled response, so she opened the door and stepped inside.

Her son was sprawled facedown on the bed. Her heart squeezed. He tried so hard to be the man of the house.

No eight-year-old should shoulder that responsibility.

“Winston,” she said softly as she walked toward the bed, “I know you’re upset.”

He sniffled then swiped at the tears he didn’t want her
to see.

“We have to talk,” Lily said softly.

He rolled over, his red, puffy eyes breaking her heart.

“You and Grandpa knew he was alive and you didn’t tell me.”

A mountain of pain echoed in his words. She was his mother; she had to soothe the hurt.

She sat down beside him. “Listen to me, Winston. I love you and I have never lied to you.”

“But—”

She placed a hand
on his cheek. “I didn’t lie. I thought we lost your father during the hurricane.”

Winston scrubbed a fist across his eyes. Eyes that looked so much like Mack’s that her heart clenched. Her little boy had lost so much by not having his father around.

And he could have been around if her father hadn’t lied to them. Even if he thought he’d had good reason, that should have been her decision,
not his.

“But Grandpa—”

“He probably received some misinformation,” she said, deciding to spare Winston. After all, her dad adored Winston and her son adored him.

Winston heaved a weary sigh. “So...is Dad bad like Grandpa said, or is he like you said?”

Lily stretched out beside her son and looked at the ceiling. It was painted white, unlike the glittering stars on the ceiling
at their house, the ones she’d added because Winston commented that they reminded him of heaven, where he thought his father was.

No wonder he was confused.

“Honey,” she said softly, “you don’t understand the way it was when Katrina hit. The flooding, the levees breaking, the people trying to flee the city. It was mad chaos. Families were literally torn apart. The phones were down. Rescue
workers had orders to only take the women and children. There were thousands of people shoved into shelters, into the Dome, people being transported to other cities.” Her lungs squeezed for air as she recalled her water breaking, the labor pains, the terror of not knowing where Mack was.

“So many people lost their families and their homes back then. And the system failed, so learning what
happened to friends and family was impossible.”

“I know that,” he said. “They talk about it at school, showed us pictures and stuff. What I want to know is if my daddy is the man you said.” He looked at her with so much anguish and childlike hope that there was no way she could crush it.

“He was, he
is
the tough, honorable man I described,” she said.

She squeezed her son’s hand.

Although, she had no idea what was going to happen between them now.

* * *

M
ACK
HATED
BREECHING
Lily’s trust by breaking into her house, but he couldn’t confront her with suspicions about her father or the mayor.

Not and win her back.

She won’t trust you when she finds out you’re trying to incriminate her father.

But he had to clear his name for his son, so he picked
the lock, stepped inside and shut the door, then scanned the foyer. The place was so quiet he could hear his breath escaping.

He wanted to see Winston’s room.

Although a thought struck him.

He had been gone eight years. Lily had thought he was dead.

Was she involved with someone else?

The thought of another man touching her, making love to her, made his blood boil.

The thought of another man playing father to his son was even worse.

The soul-deep ache that had consumed him the past few years returned full force, nearly immobilizing him, but he tamped it down.

His wife and son were alive.

He would get them back.

Knowing Lily could return any minute, he crossed the foyer to the office. Then he removed the flash drive from his pocket and
booted up her computer.

He spent the next few minutes copying all of her files.

Tonight he would go down to the Quarter and find Angelica. He wanted the skinny on Barnaby and his drug operation.

If anyone could help him, Angel could.

* * *

L
ILY
FINALLY
CONVINCED
Winston to go downstairs to breakfast. Her father was unusually talkative, obviously striving to make up for
the earlier confrontation.

Winston tried to rally, but he was still upset.

Even when the three of them went to the parade, he stood on the sidelines and didn’t run for the candy and trinkets.

“Let’s get beignets,” her father suggested. Beignets were always Winston’s favorites.

“I’m not hungry,” Winston said. “I just want to go home.”

Disappointment lined her father’s face,
but she couldn’t blame Winston. She was still angry with her dad herself.

The ride back to her father’s was steeped in tension, and when her dad suggested they stay so Winston could swim in the backyard pool, he declined.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, then rubbed his belly.

Lily didn’t want to argue. Her son had had a rough day.

He needed time to process the fact that his father
was alive.

So did she. Being alive meant Mack was back in their lives, whether she wanted it or not.

They drove to her house in silence, and when she unlocked the door, she inhaled Mack’s scent and had the uneasy feeling that he was still there.

But when she combed through the rooms, they were empty.

Winston went to his room to play video games and she retreated to her office
to work on the spring fundraiser.

But an uneasy feeling enveloped her. Lee Barnaby’s arrest made her wonder if Mack was right. Barnaby could have had something to do with framing him.

But her father couldn’t be involved.

He hadn’t approved of Mack, but he wouldn’t have done something so underhanded as to have him arrested on false charges.

Would he?

* * *

M
ACK
DRESSED
FOR
WORK
, his jeans with the holes in them, ratty T-shirt, dirty cap. If he wanted to fit in with the homeless and the junkies, he had to play the part.

He’d spent the afternoon studying Lily’s files, although he hadn’t found what he was looking for, just planning schedules and details on caterers, menus, silent-auction items, guests.

Nothing incriminating.

He needed to look at
Landry’s files. But getting access to his study would be impossible with his security and staff.

He wove through the French Quarter, keeping his head low but alert as he mingled with the late-night crowd. He passed two kids tap-dancing with bottle tops glued to the bottoms of their shoes, their act drawing an audience, their tip bucket filling. Another trio sat playing jazz music on the corner.

Finally he spotted one of his former contacts sprawled in the corner, leaning against a run-down storefront, a brown bag in his hand.

Mack squatted beside him. “Same corner, I see.”

Buddy nodded. He was a war vet who’d lost the lower half of his right leg in combat. When he returned to the States, his life had fallen apart.

“What are you doing back?” Buddy mumbled. “Heard you
bit the dust.”

He had felt dead the past few years. “Not dead, and I’m back, looking for Angelica.”

Buddy’s eyebrows rose. “She’s working the strip club around the corner.”

He’d heard she was a narc. Must be staking the joint. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Buddy grinned, his silver tooth shining. “The Bare Babes.”

Mack stuffed a few bills in Buddy’s hands. “Get a
decent meal.”

Buddy laughed and sipped his booze.

Mack stood and headed to the strip club. Loud rock music blared from speakers, and a scantily clad girl with fake boobs waved to passersby, coaxing them inside. Mack winced at the cheap strobe light flashing across the interior. Two half-naked girls pole danced in the middle of the room.

Neither was Angelica. She stood behind the
bar, swirling drinks, her café au lait skin gleaming beneath the dim bar lighting. A hint of surprise lit her eyes when she spotted him, but neither gave away that they knew each other. Instead, he feigned interest in the strippers, then claimed a bar stool.

She waited on two already half-drunk men, then sashayed over to him.

“I knew that flood didn’t get you. Nothing going to kill a
swamp devil like you.”

A smile twitched on his mouth, and he sipped the beer she’d set in front of him. “Looking to clear my name. Comeaux thinks Barnaby was only a peon compared to the corruption in the city.”

“Who are you looking at?”

“Melvin Landry. Mayor Barrow.”

She whistled, the tassels on her top twirling. “Going after your father-in-law. That takes guts.”

“Or stupidity.”

She nodded and wiped the counter, her gaze cutting around the room. “I think Remy might be right.”

“What have you heard?”

“Someone paid to get rid of you and him. Don’t imagine they’re going to be happy to have you back.”

Especially now the players had risen in ranks. Barnaby had moved up to chief of police and Hennessey was running for governor.

“Too bad for them,” he
said. “Got any tips?”

She lowered her voice. “Barrow likes to spend money on his women.”

“You mean hookers?”

She gave a quick nod. “Has a couple of regulars.”

Mack wondered who paid for that. “Word on the street is that he was supposed to have rebuilt the businesses three streets over, but he keeps stalling.”

“Because he’s filling his own pockets with cash and buying diamonds
and condos for his girls.”

Made sense. “I need a hacker to get into Landry’s files. If they’re skimming money from the rebuilding fund, I need proof.”

Another customer flagged Angelica for a drink. She served him a whiskey, then handed drafts to two more customers. When she returned, she slid a napkin in front of him. Like a pro, she’d scrawled a name and phone number on it.

“Tell
him I sent you.”

He folded the napkin and tucked it into his pocket. “Thanks. Be careful, Angel.”

“You’re the one who should be careful.” She took his empty mug. “If they wanted you gone eight years ago, think how they’ll react now with you asking questions.”

She was right, but he wasn’t going away. He had to prove something to his son.

He walked through the Quarter, then made
it to his car. He was just about to get in it when a shot rang out.

Mack ducked as the bullet sailed by his head and shattered his back windshield.

Chapter Five

Mack ducked to avoid taking a bullet, quickly scanning the area for the shooter. But the noise from Bourbon Street made it impossible to know where the bullet had come from.

He reached for his gun, keeping it out of sight from tourists as he searched the area.

A carriage rolled by carrying a couple of lovebirds, while other patrons wove in and out of the
bars.

He kept low, using his hand to rake glass off his seat before he slipped inside his SUV. He didn’t see the shooter, but he kept his eyes peeled. A man painted in all silver drew a crowd to the left of him.

A black sedan sped past him, the windows tinted.

Was the shooter in that car?

Or was he on the street hiding in the crowd?

Dammit, the area was so packed that
he could have easily hidden or already disappeared.

Mack sat for another few minutes, then started the engine and left the Quarter, wondering who in the hell had shot at him. He’d pissed off a lot of people years ago, but hardly anyone knew he was in town again.

Except for Landry.

Would his father-in-law actually hire someone to shoot him in order to keep him away from Lily?

His back windshield was shattered, but it was too late now to get it repaired. He’d take it to the shop tomorrow. He pulled over at a gas station, grabbed his flashlight from the dash and searched for the bullet casing.

It took him a minute to spot it, but he dug it from the back of his seat and examined it. A .38. He retrieved a Baggie from the dash and stored it to send to the lab.

Did Landry own a .38?

He glanced at the number Angelica had written on the napkin, memorized it, then punched it into his cell phone.

The phone rang three times, then a male voice answered. “This is Einstein.”

“Angel gave me your name. I want to hire you.”

“For what?”

“A job.”

“What kind of job?”

“One that requires discretion.”

“What makes you think I can
help?”

“Our mutual friend says you’re the best.” Might as well make the guy feel wanted.

“How do I know you’re not a cop?”

Mack bit back a laugh. “I was a cop a few years ago. That’s how I met Angel. But I’m not on the force now.”

“How come?”

“Some dirty cop framed me for a crime I didn’t do. Trying to clean up the mess.”

A hesitant pause, then Einstein mumbled an
okay. “I do this and there’s no repercussions? You don’t get your badge back then come after me?”

“No one will know about our arrangement but us. You have my word.”

The young man gave him an address in Terrytown.

Mack drove back onto the interstate, bypassed the Dome, then took the exit to the West Bank.

He drove through the residential area of Terrytown, then found a small
brick house. Down the street a pack of teenagers were hanging out, but when they spotted his car, they scattered.

He climbed out then strode to the front door and knocked.

Seconds later, a clean-cut young man around eighteen opened the door. He looked like a computer geek.

“You the one who called?”

Mack nodded. “You live here alone?”

“No, my brother lives here, too.”

“Where are your parents?”

The boy smirked. “Old man checked out when I was five. Mama died last year.”

“You take care of your brother?”

He squared his shoulders. “I’m of age,” he said as if he expected Mack to argue.

Mack shifted. The kid’s life was none of his business. But he couldn’t help but worry about him.

Einstein led him through a small den and kitchen. Shoes
and clothes were scattered everywhere. A pizza box sat on the coffee table, soda cans beside it.

But a state-of-the-art computer system dominated the third bedroom.

Einstein obviously had a lucrative side business going.

But he’d promised the kid there wouldn’t be retribution, and he’d keep his word.

Besides, what he himself was doing wasn’t exactly legal.

Einstein folded
his arms. “What do you want, man?”

“You know discretion works both ways,” Mack said. “If I see anything on Twitter or Facebook, your side business is toast.”

“No worries. Only idiots leave paper trails.”

Mack chuckled. “Smart kid.”

Einstein glanced at the clock, and Mack realized he’d wasted enough time chatting.

“You heard Lee Barnaby, the chief of police, was arrested?”

Einstein nodded, his eyes lighting with interest.

“I think he set me up. I need you to hack into some files for me.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Anything suspicious, especially regarding the man’s financials. I think he might be skimming money from the city’s rebuilding fund.”

“Man, that sucks.” Einstein dropped into his chair.

Mack gave him Landry’s name, and within
seconds, Einstein retrieved his personal information, including his bank statements, social security number and all of his financial records.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Mack asked.

“Comes natural.” He grinned. “What else?”

“See what you can find on Mayor Barrow.”

Einstein frowned. “You think the mayor’s dirty?”

“I don’t know.”

Einstein started tapping keys
again and hacked into the mayor’s personal files and business accounts.

When he finished copying the files for Mack, Mack handed Einstein a wad of cash.

Then he took the printouts and drove back to the bayou. Lily’s and Winston’s faces flashed in his mind as he parked at his house, and he wondered what they were doing.

Dammit, he wanted to be with them.

But first he had to
prove himself to his son. When he saw him again, he didn’t want anything standing between them.

* * *

L
ILY
SPENT
THE
NIGHT
working on the upcoming fundraiser. So far, she had persuaded three celebrities to agree to perform and several local restaurants had committed to donating food and desserts.

But the earlier confrontation involving her father and Mack and Winston haunted her.

Memories of being with Mack reminded her that their relationship was worth fighting for. He’d heated her blood the moment she’d laid eyes on him. He was so different from the men she’d dated before, so fierce and strong.

So protective.

And dangerous.

That danger had drawn her to him in a way the polite demeanor of the executives and lawyers her father had pushed on her had never
done.

Her phone buzzed, and she snatched it up.

“Hello.”

“Lily, this is Tate.”

Speaking of lawyers and men her father wanted her to date... Her father thought his lawyer was the perfect match for Lily. He’d graduated from Harvard Law, and his salary could offer her and Winston the lifestyle her father wanted her to have.

She didn’t care about that lifestyle. She wanted
Winston raised with morals and solid values.

She wanted him to be the kind of man Mack was.

“What can I do for you, Tate?”

“I wondered if you needed an escort for the upcoming fundraiser.”

Lily winced. Half of the women in New Orleans would love to be Tate’s date—or his wife.

But she didn’t want to lead him on. “You know you’re invited, but I’m afraid I’ll be too busy
to entertain an escort.” She paused. “Besides, Tate, I’m still married.”

“It’s been over seven years, Lily. I told you we can have Mack declared dead.”

The idea sent a shiver through her. “That’s not possible, Tate. Mack is still alive.”

Tate’s labored sigh echoed over the line. “He’s back?”

“Yes. It’s a long story.” And one she didn’t intend to share with him. “But apparently
Mack had no idea Winston and I had survived.”

“They met?” Tate asked.

“Yes.” Lily massaged her temple. She wished it had gone better.

“Still, Lily, it’s been years. You can file for a divorce. After all, he went missing because he’s a criminal.”

“He wasn’t convicted, Tate. In fact, he claims that Lee Barnaby arrested him on false charges.”

“Come on, Lily. You aren’t going
to fall for his lame excuses.”

Lily gritted her teeth. “Was there another reason you called?”

A sigh. “No, I just thought you and I... Face it, Lily. That cop can’t give you what I can.”

Lily ran a hand through her hair. No, he couldn’t. Tate could give her money and fine etchings and a place in society.

Mack could give her passion, danger, excitement and...the best sex she’d
ever had in her life.

“I’m worried about you and Winston,” Tate continued. “If Mack loved you so much, what has he been doing all these years? Why didn’t he look for you and come back to face the charges? That’s what any honest, decent man would have done.”

Lily didn’t intend to argue with him, especially concerning Mack. Mack was Winston’s father.

And she respected that.

Looking back, she’d too easily accepted the accusations against Mack.

Now she knew Barnaby was a liar, she felt like a fool for not defending Mack.

“I appreciate your concern,” Lily said, “but I can take care of myself, Tate. Now, I have another call.”

She didn’t give him time to respond. She hung up, her palms sweating.

First her father wanted to run her life, and now Tate?

The two of them were barely friends, more like passing business acquaintances. He handled her father’s affairs, not hers.

Mack’s rugged face materialized in her mind. Even if Mack wasn’t in the picture now, Tate could never satisfy her the way Mack had.

She wrung her hands together, frustrated at her selfish thoughts.

Her son had to come first.

She climbed the stairs to
the second floor, then peeked inside his room.

But the bed was empty.

“Winston?

Her heart raced as she flipped on the light. She searched the bed, the closet, the bathroom, then shouted his name. “Winston, where are you?”

No answer.

She ran down the steps and looked in the kitchen, then the TV room and the backyard.

But Winston was nowhere to be found.