Lightning Strikes (The Almeida Brothers Trilogy #3) (28 page)

Jack laughed, again, but this false smile didn’t last. It was gone in an instant.  “Seems Dr. Dominic Octavio killed her son on the operating table.”

The air left Bitsy’s lungs.  She released her hold on Jack’s shirt, right over his heart, so she could press it against her own.

Jack nodded, finally meeting her eyes, watching her fall through a range of different expressions.  “So, see…” His eyes fell.  “I really
don’t
deserve to be happy… Do I, Grams?”  He wound his finger in a circle through the air.  “I’m always going to owe more on a debt that’s impossible to repay.  I’m always going to pay… One way or the other.  And maybe that’s what I deserve.”

Bitsy shook her head.  She tried to speak her disagreement out loud, but no words came, so she just wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into the tightest hug she could manage.

She didn’t let go until her bones started to ache.

***

“Do you like chamomile, darling?”

Nina’s mouth fell open as Bitsy offered her a steaming white mug, her eyes shining.  The truth was, she
hated
tea, but she’d be damned if she hadn’t been pounding it all evening, just to show her gratitude.

“That’s so sweet, Bits, thank you.”

“Careful, it’s fresh off the pot.”

Nina pulled the sweatshirt Bitsy had loaned her down over her hands before cupping the mug, putting the warm ceramic to her lips just as Bitsy sat down next to her.

“Jack should be out of the shower any moment; then we’ll head out to the airport.”

Nina nodded.  “You’re saving my life, Bits.  I hope you know that.”

Bitsy waved her hand through the air with a gentle scoff, smiling.  “Have you seen the smile my grandbaby can’t wipe off his gorgeous face whenever he’s in your presence?  There’s no amount of money I wouldn’t spend to see that.  I’d spend it every day.”

Nina matched her smile.  “He really is such a beautiful man.”

Bitsy breathed deep.

“And
this,
is a beautiful view,” Nina said, her eyes dancing over the snowy mountain range that was miles away, but somehow looked close enough to reach out and touch.  “I’ve never been to Utah.  I had no idea it was so beautiful.  I could sit out here for hours and just stare.”

“When I married Frank, he insisted we move out here.”  Bitsy sighed at the view.  “I was always a Manhattan girl myself.  While I’ll never
adore
Utah, it is… nice.”

Nina chuckled.  “Sounds like that was really tough for you to say.”

“Don’t you dare breathe a word of it to my husband.  I’m still trying to get him back to the city.”

Nina scoffed.  “Trust me; you ain't missing much.  All of the culture and creativity that gave it life has been destroyed by hipsters and trust-fund babies.  The city is a shell of itself.”  She nudged her.  “But we’ve got plenty of culture left in the Bronx.  Just make sure to pack your best pistol, though.”

Bitsy laughed, the sound muffled as she brought her mug up to her lips.  “I just despise being away from my beautiful grandsons.  They need me.”  She shot Nina a look just long enough to see her nod before looking back to the mountains.  “They’ve grown up now, but they still need me.  The world looks at them, and sees two bulky, towering men, but I look at them, and all I see are babies.  My babies.  Gosh…”

“I get it,” Nina said.  “It’s hard to be away from family.”

“Are you close to your family?”

Nina frowned.  “We’ve been having a lot of ups and downs.  But, if I have anything to do with it… it’ll all be over soon, and we can be a family again.”

A comfortable lull fell into the conversation.  Nina and Bitsy sipped their tea until they were close to the very bottom, their soft slurps interspersed with bouts of deep sighs.

“My grandson…”

Nina’s eyes flew to Bitsy, shocked at the sudden break in the silence.

Bitsy didn’t return her gaze, squinting into the distance.  “When he fights, he fights hard.”  They shared a knowing laugh, and she finally met Nina’s eyes.  “But he loves harder.”

Nina’s mouth fell, and soon, her tea was forgotten.

Bitsy winked at her.  “You just have to help him get out of his own way.”

Nina nodded, smiling when Bitsy clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me go and check on him so I can get you two to the airport and go to bed.  This old bird needs her beauty rest.”

“Okay, Bits.” Nina held up her mug.  “Thanks again for the tea.”

“Darling?” Bitsy made it all the way to the backyard doors before turning back to Nina.  She waited for their eyes to meet.  “Just… Don’t give up on him.”

Nina’s mouth fell as Bitsy stepped into the house, disappearing.

She couldn’t fathom why Bitsy felt the need to say that to her because she couldn’t fathom
any
circumstance where she would ever give up on Jack.

***

They didn’t panic when their plane to New York was delayed due to mechanical issues.  They didn’t bat a lash when that plane circled JFK for two hours because air traffic was high.  They didn’t even fall apart when they had to sit on the tarmac for twenty minutes because their arrival gate had been occupied.

They didn’t think much of it when the subway broke down.  No big deal.  They’d catch a cab.  It didn’t bother them when, on the way to the courthouse, the cab blew a tire the second it pulled onto the highway.  Nothing to stress about.  Happens to everyone.  They didn’t even flinch when, after putting on the spare tire slower than Christmas, the driver got them all the way to downtown Manhattan just in time to come face to face with wall-to-wall traffic.

Nina checked her watch and cursed, squinting toward the front of the cab where all she saw were the bumpers of the millions of cars in front of them.

“Sir, how much longer?”

“Rush hour,” was all the cab driver said.

“Jack, pay the man.”  Nina was already out of the car when Jack threw the driver a few dollars.  He was right on her heels, and in seconds, they were running, zigzagging through wall-to-wall cars and yellow cabs, jetting toward the courthouse that seemed to be glowing at them from the distance.

“Five minutes!” Nina cried out in relief once she made it onto the sidewalk, racing up the never-ending white staircase to the doors of the courthouse.  Only when she made it to the top did she turn back to Jack, who was struggling after her, frowning as he clutched his back.  “I have five minutes, Jack.”

He nodded, panting from the staircase, pointing a lazy finger toward the door.  “Well, I damn sure didn’t spend the last few days painting the country red for you to miss this trial by a few seconds.  We both know Judge Perkins.  Five minutes early is ten minutes late.  You’ve already lost points.”

Nina watched him with wide, blubbery eyes.  “Will you wait for me?”

“Nina.”  Jack shook his head in disbelief.  “Go.”

Nina launched her body at him and wrapped her arms around his neck as tight as they would go, moaning and falling into the warm sensation before she released him and raced into the courthouse.

She didn’t look back.

As Jack watched her go, he couldn’t help his stomach feeling sicker than it ever had.

***

He thought she’d been so eager to get home because she was still in love with the man she was divorcing.  That she was holding onto a relationship that was clearly dead.

Now that Jack knew the truth—that Nina was really fighting to honor her late son—he wished it was the latter.  He wished her son was still alive, and she was simply a wounded wife who wanted to stick it to the husband she still loved.  At least then, he could fight for her in a real way.  A valiant way.  A way that wouldn’t be constantly tainted by the reminder that she was indeed, yet another woman he could never have.

He turned to the courthouse and glared at the tall white pillars.  His seat in the middle of the grand stairs outside gave him the perfect view of lawyers and stockbrokers hustling in and out, all too busy and important to notice the agony in his eyes—one of which was still black—or the tatters in his clothes.

He wanted to wait for her.  To be there, on those steps, the second she walked back out.  He wanted to be the first thing she saw when her divorce was finalized for good.  He wanted to be there to give her a warm body to cuddle into if she’d won the case and the money.  He wanted to be that warm body still if, by some terrible chance, she’d lost it all.

He just wanted to be there.

But now, more succinctly that ever, he understood he couldn’t.

He couldn’t be there for Nina.  Not in the way he always wanted to.

His past had proven, like it always did, that he would never, ever escape it.  It would always sneak up on him in some way or another, mentally, physically, sometimes even verbally, to rip anything he even dreamed of building to shreds.  It had a funny little habit of infecting anyone he allowed to get too close.

He wouldn’t let that happen to Nina.

He was a man who knew what he deserved.  An empty brownstone in Greenwich Village.  Alone.

So he stood from the steps, groaning against his back the whole way.  Each shot of pain sent a memory of how he’d acquired it, every one of them involving the woman on the other side of those doors, and somehow, thinking of her, it hurt a little less.

Still, it hurt, and as he hobbled down the stairs; he didn’t look back.

When Jack opened the door to his Greenwich brownstone later that night, he took Nina’s breath away.  In jeans and a white fleece, hair slicked back from a recent shower; he almost looked like a different person.  But she saw him.

He drew in a haggard breath as his eyes ran over her body.  It was the first time he’d seen her without red leather pants and a crop top hugging her curves.  She’d replaced them with a fitted royal blue shift dress and black ankle boots.  She’d pulled her curls into a high bun, splashed a little mascara on her lashes and finished it off with a nude lip.  Her goal had been to look breathtaking without trying to look breathtaking.

When his chest heaved upward at the sight of her, she knew she’d succeeded.

But the words that instantly left his mouth told a different story.  He frowned over the threshold.  “Who told you where I lived?”

“I—” Nina blinked, taken aback.  “I called Bitsy from your phone, which I still have by the way… I thought you were going to wait for me at the courthouse.  I ran outside, looked everywhere, but you weren’t here.  Honestly, I was a little disappointed not to see you.  I thought about you the whole time.  Picturing your serious face was the only thing that got me through it.”

Jack didn’t respond.

Something passed between them, something that, even in silence, made more noise than the busy New York street downstairs.

“Can I come in, or…” She motioned into his brownstone with a smile, but it wavered when Jack avoided her eyes.  “I mean; if I’m bothering you…”

“No.”  His eyebrows pulled.

Hers did, too.  Was he frowning because her insinuation that she was a nuisance was preposterous?  Or was he frowning because her existence in his life had finally become unbearable?  Perhaps being back in the real world really
was
going to be their kiss of death.  Did he even see the same person when he looked at her?

“No,” he said, again.  “Come in.”

She stepped into the foyer hesitantly.  He crossed the living room and disappeared into the kitchen without offering her the official tour, so she gave herself the best tour she could, drinking in all the nooks and crannies of the brownstone with her eyes.  The house was old, with all of the original furnishings, and though she wasn’t well versed in real estate, she knew Jack was living in a goldmine.  If he ever sold this gem, the new owners would surely gut it from the inside out, rip out the dark brown cherry moldings, obliterate the exposed brick, and commit a redecorating massacre that rivaled a Pier One showroom.  She hoped he’d never sell.  All the tiny imperfections, from the chipped white marble on the living room mantle to the noisy wooden floors that had seen better days, all the way down to the indescribable scent that filled the air, this was a real home.

And it was so utterly Jack; she found herself in awe.  It wasn’t until he called out to her from the kitchen that she was jolted back to reality.  She made her way across the living room—which was just as authentic and pre-war as the entryway—wringing her fingers the entire way.

“This house is
sick.”
She widened her eyes upon entering the kitchen, making a claw with her hands.

“Unfortunately, I can’t take credit.  It was my father’s house.  We just lived in it.”  Jack was in the midst of pouring her a glass of scotch, but she threw a hand out.

“No thank you,” she said, waving softly, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the kitchen’s large island.

Jack stopped in mid-pour and met her eyes, holding the bottle out.  “I assumed we were celebrating.”

Her smile grew wider.  “We are.  I’m officially divorced.  Money’s all mine.  I just hate scotch.”

He set the bottle down, or rather slammed it, before moving to the corner of the kitchen.  Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen had been upgraded, with two wine fridges nestled in a jungle of granite and stainless steel.  From her end, she could see Jack had a hell of a wine collection.

“Why didn’t you wait for me at the courthouse?” she whispered.

“What do you like?” He snatched open the wine fridge.

She wondered if he’d heard her.  “Anything sweet.”

He yanked a bottle out without a moment’s hesitation, presenting the label to her as he moved back to the island.  Pink Moscato.

She nodded her approval.  “I had no idea I had a wine connoisseur on my hands.”

“I’m a whiskey connoisseur,” he said, setting a wine glass down.  “I suppose that’s in my blood.  Thank god you’re here, or this piss would’ve gone untouched until the day I died.”

“If it’s such
piss
, why did you buy it?”

“It was my mother’s.”

Nina frowned, having no idea why this conversation felt the way it was feeling, but she replaced it with a smile when he popped the cork, poured a glass and handed it to her.   “I was hoping you’d be there when I came out.  At the courthouse—”

“Waiting for you?” Jack finished her sentence, bringing his tumbler of scotch up to his lips.  “I suppose I could’ve waited, but that would’ve gone against everything you’ve asked me to do.  Wasn’t it you that insisted we were living in a fantasy land?  That this would all be over once we resumed life in the real world?”

“Pretty sure that was you.”

“Perhaps it was both of us.”  He took a deep breath.  “And perhaps we were onto something.”

Nina’s eyes went big, and they searched his.  The island between them suddenly felt like an ocean, and she wrung her fingers together.  “I was… I was…
wrong.”

Jack finished off his scotch and yanked at the neck of the Johnny Walker Blue, refilling his glass in seconds.  “What were you wrong about, Nina?”

The absent tone of his voice shook her.  “The easier question to answer would probably be, what am I ever
right
about?  Because clearly it hasn’t been much.  Most of the time I’m too stupid to see what’s right in front of my face until… until…”

Jack raised his eyebrows.  “Until your husband leaves you, and you have no other choice?”

That one had been on purpose.  That shot he’d just fired.  Right in the heart, with a sniper’s precision.

Regardless of whether he was shooting to kill—and why—what she’d just told him had been true.  She did make bad decisions.  And her mind was constantly playing tricks on her.  So she willed herself to fight it.  The part of herself that wanted to curl into her shell to avoid another blow—because it seemed he had plenty more to give.  She wouldn’t let that part of her win over.

So she told Jack the truth.

“You know, you’re acting weird.  And since I’ve only known you for a short time, I can’t tell if you’re acting unlike your real self, or if
this
is your real self.”  She tried to make sense of her thoughts, but when all he gave her was a blank stare, she couldn’t.  “Anyway, the you that
I
know… he’s been different ever since I told him the truth about Noah.”

“How am I different?”

“You’re nicer.”

“Should I be meaner?”

“No,” she laughed.  “I mean, you’re nicer, but not in that
Jack
way.”

“There’s a Jack way?”

“You know… the
Jack way.
  Where you’re nice, in spite of yourself.”

He couldn’t help a laugh escaping his lips.  “Maybe now that we’re finally home, it’s easier for me to be nice
naturally…”

She considered that, and then shook her head.  “Nope.  I’m not buying it.  Because you’ve been putting on this nice act since Utah, like I said, since I told you about what happened to Noah.  I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I just want you to feel like you can talk to me about whatever is bothering you.  I want you and I to have a real chance together, out here in the real world.  In normal circumstances.  I want us to be able to talk to each other without the crutch of an extreme life event carrying us along.  I want to know how you really feel…”

Jack turned his back, glass of scotch in a death grip, running a hand down his face.

“I want to know if you love me, Jack.”

He faced her, just in time to see vulnerable tears hitting her eyes.

She lowered them, scraping her nails in a slow circle on the counter, her boots fidgeting on the tile floor.

“You make me really happy,” she whispered.

“You made me happy too, Nina.”

“Made?” Her eyes met his, wetter than before.

He looked away.

“Jack, I’m not trying to pressure you,” she said, holding up a hand.  “I would never want to do that.  I just… God, I don’t know.”

He gave her a moment of his gaze and then looked away.

She studied him.  “There’s this look you get in your eye sometimes.  It’s like you want to say something, but then you talk yourself out of it.  Your mind invalidates the truth before you let it leave your lips.”

He smirked.  “And you call me a lawyer.  You missed your calling, doll.”

“Yeah, well, once I win this malpractice suit for Noah, I plan on taking the settlement, going back to City College, and finishing my JD.”

“You should.”  He nodded, eyes flashing with pride.  “Not only are you a beautiful,” he sighed, “
beautiful
woman, but you’re also exceptionally smart.  Clever.  Perceptive.  A triple threat.”  He breathed out a laugh.  “The fact that you’re a black woman will only make you more powerful.  The world will try to convince you it’s your greatest weakness, but it will always be your greatest strength.  They won’t even see you coming until you’ve already got them around the neck.”

She tried to smile, but couldn’t.  “I love you, Jack.”  The tears were back in her eyes, and when he looked down, they multiplied.  “I love you a lot.”

Jack looked at his glass of scotch and finished it off.  They both stared at the empty glass for a while before he took the bottle and emptied its remnants inside.  He slammed it down on the counter, breathing deep.

“My father…” He played the glass in slow circles on the counter.  “Loved to drink…”

Nina frowned, pushing her hip up against the counter, crossing her arms.

“He’d finish off every last swallow of alcohol in this house.  Except that garbage you’re drinking.  Even he wouldn’t touch that.”

Nina didn’t smile.

Jack breathed deep.  “His first failed attempt at sobriety was on my fifth birthday.  That’s when he started hiding the bottles.”  He laughed.  “Jesus.  He used to have them all over the house.  Under mattresses.  Floorboards. Inside our old stuffed animals in the basement.  He never could remember the one he hid behind an old armoire in the guest bedroom.  It’s still there, twenty-five years later.”  He looked off.  “It’s a miracle I haven’t demolished it myself.  I don’t know.  Maybe I keep it there as a reminder.  A reminder to never fucking be like him.  To never be such a goddamned, psychopathic drunk that I have to hide the bottles from my own family.  Such a goddamn useless drunk that, every now and again, I even managed to hide them from myself, right before I put a fist through my wife’s eye because I’m convinced
she
hid them from me.”

Nina stepped forward.

He held up a hand.  “Don’t.”

She stumbled to a stop, her lips trembling.  “You don’t have to push everyone away, Jack.  You don’t have to pretend that you don’t need people.  That you don’t need me.  I’m right here, and I love you.  I really love you, and I’ll never hurt you.”

She was slaughtered at the emptiness she could see in his eyes, even as she felt her own growing more saturated with feeling.  She could almost feel the burn of the scotch on her own throat as he sent it searing down his. Washing away anything that still remained inside of him that could accept the love she offered.

He blinked lazily.  “I keep that bottle behind the armoire, twenty-five years later, as a reminder of the man I defended.  The man whose hands…” He made claws under his chin. “
Lived
around my neck whenever I blocked the path to Chase.  I never did let him get to Chase.  Maybe, since I wouldn’t let him near his youngest son, he went to work taking everyone else’s.”

Nina frowned, shaking her head.  “Jack,” her voice went weak.  “Jack what are you saying?”

He seemed to be floating away, just out of her reach, farther and father by the second.  “Maybe… every time I took a punch that was meant for Chase, I was killing the next innocent kid that ended up on his operating table.”

Nina took a step back, eyes going wide.

Jack watched her out of the corner of his eyes but didn’t meet her gaze.  “Maybe…” he continued.  “My family
deserved
the hell on Earth he brought to this house every day because we didn’t speak up.  We didn’t speak up for the little Timmys.  The little Ashleys…” He swallowed.  “The little Noahs…”

Nina shook her head, more softly this time, as realization washed over her.  “No.”  She didn’t know if she was speaking or begging.  “No… Jack,
no
…”

Jack finished off the rest of the scotch, staring at the glass when he set it back down.  “Maybe…”