7 Brides for 7 Bodies (2 page)

As they neared the detention center, she and Wes maintained a tense silence. She chewed on her thumbnail, imagining her brother’s thoughts to be as chaotic as her own. She cast about for something reassuring to say, but she was at a loss, her stomach rolling and pitching. Because the truth was, she didn’t know how all of this was going to shake out.

Traffic eased and every red light turned green, as if the universe was hurrying her toward her father. After a decade of waiting and wondering and weeping, this was happening so fast...too fast. When she saw their destination looming ahead, she swallowed past a dry throat, wishing she’d brought a bottle of water.

And what if she burst into tears? She hadn’t thought to bring a tissue. Or wear waterproof mascara. She gripped her purse harder—retro Gucci...timeless, but not roomy. It wasn’t big enough, for example, to hold photographs of all the things Randolph had missed over the years, assuming he’d even want to see them.

Wes shifted in his seat. “How long do you think we’ll get to talk to Dad?”

“Jack told me we’d have twenty minutes.”

Wes’s mouth tightened. “Jerk.”

“It’s not his rule, Wes.”

“Still...I bet he’s gloating like hell to have brought down a big-name fugitive. He and the D.A. are probably still out celebrating.”

“That’s not really Jack’s style.”

“He has a style?”

She decided to let that one pass as Wes slowed the car to turn into the crowded visitor parking lot. The Atlanta City Detention Center was a popular place.

“What are you going to ask Dad first?” Wes’s voice vibrated with nervous excitement.

She wet her lips. “I thought I would let him do the talking. Don’t you think he owes us that much?”

Wes frowned as he maneuvered into a parking space on the back row. “Don’t mess this up.”

“What do you mean?”

“You sound angry.”

Her chin went up. “I have a right to be angry.”

His jaw clenched, then he shoved the gear shift into park and killed the engine. “Dad has a lot to deal with right now. He needs our support.”

Carlotta gaped. “Support? Wes, he’s the criminal here. We’re the victims.”

“He got caught saving your life,” Wes said evenly. “He’s in jail because of you. You should be grateful.”

Fury rose in her chest like a tide. “Grateful? I should be grateful because Randolph walked out and left me with—” She broke off before she said something she couldn’t take back.

“With me?” Wes’s face was a mask of hurt.

“With his mess to clean up,” she corrected. But the damage was done.

“Why didn’t you turn me over to foster care?” Wes spat out. “I probably would’ve been better off.”

Okay, that stung...and was probably true. She blinked back hot tears as he opened the door and flung himself out. The car shook when he slammed the door. He popped the trunk lid and hauled out his bike none too gently, then walked it to a nearby bike rack, as if to punctuate that he would be getting away from her as quickly as possible when they left.

She took a few calming breaths and reminded herself they were both emotionally raw at the moment, but they had been through worse.

Hopefully.

Carlotta opened the door and climbed out, relieved to see Wes was waiting for her at the entrance to the slightly formidable building. She never thought she would long for the relative coziness of the Midtown police precinct where Jack Terry worked and everyone knew her name.

As she approached, Wes held himself rigid and refused to look at her. The one moment when they should’ve been standing in solidarity, and she felt utterly alone. Despair welled in her chest as he swung open the heavy glass door.

“Wes—” she began.

“What the hell is
he
doing here?”

Carlotta looked up. A man in a sport coat waiting next to the security desk straightened, obviously waiting for them. Her heart went
kaboom
.

Jack.

Chapter Two

AT THE SIGHT OF JACK TERRY, Carlotta’s mind reeled with images from last night’s dream in an alternate universe. In it, she had met the hulking detective all over again, under different circumstances...and their chemistry had been just as powerful.

“Did you ask him to come?” Wesley asked, his voice accusing.

“No, I didn’t.” But now that she thought about it, it made sense that Jack would be here, keeping an eye on his prize prisoner.

He strode up and nodded to her. “Hi.”

After her disturbing dream, she was so happy he actually knew who she was, she felt positively giddy. “Hi.”

Wesley elbowed her.

“I mean, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“How’s your shoulder?” Jack asked.

“Fine,” she murmured.

“We’re fine,” Wesley added in a pointed voice.

Jack’s gold-colored eyes were bloodshot and although his shirt was fresh, his rumpled jacket and tie told a different story: He hadn’t slept since placing Randolph under arrest the previous day.

“What are you doing here?” Wes pressed.

“I thought you might be here early,” Jack said, evading the question. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He was talking to her, but Wes angled himself between them. “Get out of our way. If you hadn’t wanted to be a big bad-ass hero, we could be catching up with Dad around our kitchen table right now.”

Jack pursed his mouth. “I was only doing my job.”

“Right,” Wes said dryly, then jerked his head toward the door. “You can leave now.”

“I want to be here for Carlotta.”

Carlotta crossed her arms. The men had apparently forgotten she was there.

“This is a family affair,” Wes said. “Are you looking to join the family, Detective?”

Okay, that made her smile a little. Wes knew one of Jack’s pressure points—commitment. She enjoyed watching the big man squirm before she put him out of his misery.

“This was nice of you, Jack, but...” She trailed off because something behind her had caught his attention, and from the expression on his face, it wasn’t glad tidings.

She turned to see GBI agents Wick and Green walking toward them, and immediately stiffened. The men had worked The Charmed Killer case and had not only grilled her mercilessly about her family’s “connections” to the case, but when they had finally made an arrest, the agents had dismissed her declaration that they had the wrong person in custody. The pair made an odd couple visually—Wick, a tall, slim black man, and Green, a short, stocky white guy—but they seemed to play off each other to good—and irritating—advantage.

“Good morning,” Agent Wick said, his smile tight.

“I see the gang’s all here,” Green added. “Hooray—that’ll save me a few phone calls.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, widening his stance.

“We’ve been asked to relocate Randolph Wren,” Wick said, pulling a thick set of folded documents out of his jacket pocket and holding it up. “To USP.”

Carlotta swung her gaze to Jack. “What does that mean?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “They’re moving your father to the United States Penitentiary across town.”

“The federal pen?” she asked.

He nodded, then looked back to the agents. “When?”

Green checked his watch. “Let’s see...uh—now.”

“After his children have had a chance to talk to him,” Jack added.

“Afraid not,” Wick said, shaking his head. “They’ll have to wait until he’s settled at USP.”

Panic spurred Carlotta forward a step. “But we’ve been
waiting
for over ten years.”

Green gave a little shrug. “We have our orders. Your father belongs to the feds now.”

Wes lunged forward, his hands balled into fists. “You assholes!”

Jack clamped his hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Relax,” he said in a low voice.

“You better watch your temper there,” Green snapped. “Assaulting an agent will get you a jumpsuit to match your daddy’s.”

“We’re good,” Jack said cheerfully, but visibly tightened his grip on Wes.

Carlotta’s stomach plummeted in abject disappointment that the family reunion might not happen, but her heart went out to Wesley, whose eyes glittered with angry tears. She’d at least had brief contact with Randolph in the past year—once he’d passed her a note that she’d found later, and once he’d engaged her in conversation while in disguise. And she’d seen him fleetingly yesterday when he’d saved her life. She had a face and a voice as proof her father was still alive, but Wes had nothing concrete to cling to.

“I would’ve thought you two would be busy dealing with The Charmed Killer,” Carlotta said wryly, “seeing as how now you’ve got the right man and all.”

Jack made a noise that could’ve been a cough or a laugh.

“We’re trained to multi-task,” Wick said, matching her tone.

Carlotta ground her teeth, but realized she needed to change tack. “Gentlemen, surely there’s some way we can see Randolph before you transport him?” She wasn’t beneath batting her eyelashes.
Flap, flap.

Green made a clicking noise in his throat. “No can do, little lady. But we’ll tell him you said hello.”

Jack must’ve realized Carlotta wanted to punch the man in the face, because his other hand shot out to clasp her forearm and give her a warning squeeze.

“Yes,” Jack said to the men. “Tell Randolph his children will see him at the federal detention center as soon as possible.”

Wick’s gaze bounced back and forth between the three of them. “Do you babysit in your free time, Terry?”

Jack gave a little laugh. “Funny. If you two jackasses don’t move along, I’m going to turn these two loose and look the other way.”

Green scowled. “You got a bad attitude, boy.”

Jack’s smile didn’t waver. “So I’ve been told.”

He maintained his hold on them until Wick and Green walked away, then released them with a grunt. Wes swiped at his eyes, his body shaking with fury. “I don’t believe this!”

“But we can go now to USP, can’t we?” Carlotta asked. “We’ll follow them.”

Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. It’ll take a while to process him, and then the feds will want their time with him.” He sighed. “I know this sucks, but you’ve both waited a long time to talk to Randolph, and a couple of more days isn’t going to kill you.”

“Shut up.” Wes stabbed his finger in the air for emphasis. “You’re the one who arrested him, for God’s sake. And if you hadn’t stopped us just now, we would’ve already been back there, talking to our dad.” He was near tears again. “Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”

They were attracting attention from the security guards. Jack flashed his badge and gave them a signal that he had the situation under control.

Then he jammed his hands on his hips and looked at Carlotta. “Do you feel the same?”

She bit into her lower lip, her mind spinning. How did she feel about Jack being so involved in their lives? Her mind changed like the weather. Some days she wished their paths had never crossed...although the dream she’d had about the “other place” made her think they had been fated to meet, no matter what. And there was no arguing he’d saved her butt more than once, the confounding man. And the sex...well, the detective had skills not listable on LinkedIn.

Although Wes had a point that if Jack hadn’t insisted on dragging Randolph away from the townhome, that if he’d only given them an hour as a family to talk before he slapped on the cuffs, they wouldn’t be standing here right now, with Wes feeling as if he was never going to see his father with his own eyes.

“Carlotta?” Jack prompted.

“I feel...” Under his gaze and Wesley’s, her voice faltered, then she tried again. “That is, maybe we
could
use a break from each other, Jack.”

Jack’s expression clouded, then he nodded. “Loud and clear.” He turned toward the entrance, and she wanted to reach out to him, take back the words. Why was everything between them so tricky?

Suddenly he turned back. “Actually, why don’t both of you take a walk with me to my car?”

“Gee, that didn’t last long,” Wes said sarcastically.

“One walk,” Jack said. “Then I’ll step back from the Wrens.”

“Why should we?” Wes asked.

Jack massaged the bridge of his nose. “Trust me this once?” He swept his arm forward for Carlotta and Wes to precede him out the building.

Carlotta moved self-consciously, hoping this wasn’t a ruse to place Wesley under arrest for something, like driving with a suspended license.

He led them to a special parking lot for law enforcement vehicles. When they reached his dark sedan, he gestured. “Get in.”

Wes gave her a questioning glance, but she only shrugged. Jack held open the front passenger side door for her. She slid inside, thinking it had been a while since she’d ridden shotgun with him. Detective Maria Marquez had most recently occupied this spot. A pang of grief for the woman barbed through her heart. She had been jealous of the camaraderie the beautiful woman shared with Jack, but she was as shocked and saddened as everyone else when Maria had been killed.

It seemed as if Jack was destined to be alone.

Wes climbed in the back seat, his expression sullen and closed.

When Jack settled into the driver’s seat and turned over the ignition, Wes popped up. “Where the hell are we going?”

Jack threw a frown over his shoulder. “You really should clean up your language.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nice,” Jack said blandly. “I told you to trust me. And sink down so everyone can’t see your fat head.”

Wes flounced back in the seat, but did as he was told. Carlotta raised her eyebrows at Jack and he gave her a reassuring wink. He guided the car around the lot to a spot close to the building, and killed the engine. They sat in perplexed silence for a few minutes. When Carlotta tired of watching Jack play with the gadgets on his dashboard, she sighed and gave him a withering look. Then Jack lifted his hand and pointed to her right.