All I Want Is Forever (18 page)

“Having an addict for a mother isn't something I put on my résumé,” she snapped.

“I'm not passing judgment,” he replied.

“What do you know about it? I had to live with her.” Talia pulled back from the explosion that was building inside. She took a deep breath and let it out. “That's in the past.”

“I've gotten to know Monette in the last ten months. She's acutely aware of her mistakes.”

Jim Rand was another man intrigued by her lovely mother. Maybe it was the bad-girl persona that appealed to this Ivy League–educated man. Jim wore no wedding band. He was an attractive man in a starched
kind of way. Just the kind that might be excited by Monette's brand of spicy wit and charm. Talia did not want him to become another casualty.

“Monette can sound sincere and truthful. At her best, she's the smoothest operator you'll ever meet,” Talia said.

Jim smiled. “I'm not naive, Ms. Marchand. I've got a highly developed sensor for bull.”

“You said yourself she's lying to you.”

“I said she's not telling me everything. There's a difference,” Jim said stubbornly.

“No there isn't.”

He glanced away. “I expect to find out what she's holding back anyway.”

She sighed. He'd have to fend for himself and find out the hard way. “Fine. I'm telling you Barron figures in this some way.”

“Sure he does. He wants to use her parole hearing as an opportunity to look good. My guess is he'll have others point out he got her and the dealers she ran with off the streets.”

“If Barron's office did mess up or engaged in misconduct, her chances of being paroled shoot way up.” Talia leaned forward. “And I smell something rotten in this whole thing.”

Jim said nothing for a long time. Talia watched him closely. She could almost see him arranging facts in his head.

“You're a smart lady. I don't think you're just being emotional about your mother,” he said finally.

Talia let out a dry laugh empty of real humor. “Trust me, sentimentality went out the window years ago.”

“How sad,” he said with compassion.

Talia stood abruptly and tugged at her jacket. “I suggest you talk to Jerome Hines again. I'm going to talk
to Monette. Maybe I can convince her to tell the truth for a change.”

“Okay.” Jim stood. “By the way, Monette is trying to protect you. Most inmates trying to get out play the ‘suffering mama' card early in the game.”

“I've known her a lot longer than you.” Talia looped the long strap of her purse over her shoulder. “She must have another game, or she would have. I'll let you know anything I find out, but I'll be going back to D.C. soon.”

“I see.” Jim looked at her steadily. “But you plan to visit your mother before you go.”

“Once more, yes,” she said shortly. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Ms. Marchand.” He held out a hand with long fingers. “I'm glad to know you.”

She shook his hand firmly for a moment and let go. Talia left without looking back. Still, she could feel his perceptive gaze on her back like a laser beam. She had no intention of being Monette's pawn. She would help him find out the truth. Monette deserved that at least. Outside in the October sunshine she put on her sunglasses and felt better, protected somehow. Then Derrick stepped around the corner of the building and beckoned to her. His tall, broad-shouldered profile startled and delighted her at the same time. Talia fought off the familiar tingle that crept up her spine. Then she frowned with irritation at the sudden thought that he had followed her.

“What are you doing here?” she said tersely. “I don't need an escort or a shadow.”

“Let's go somewhere and talk,” he replied in a clipped tone and guided her toward his SUV with one strong hand on her elbow.

 

“I hope you have a damn good reason for this stunt,” Talia hissed.

Derrick steered the 4Runner expertly out of the parking space he'd managed to find off St. Charles Avenue. He could feel the waves of anger from her honey brown skin. They passed Tulane University.

“And by the way, my car is still back there,” she continued in a controlled voice. “What is this about, Derrick?”

“I've been reading Monette's case.”

“You followed me to New Orleans to tell me something I already know?” Talia glanced at him sideways.

“Let me finish before you start with the smart remarks,” Derrick snapped. Then he took a deep breath to calm down. “I think I've found something.”

“Good. Write it down, and I'll give it to Jim Rand. Then get back to your regularly scheduled program.”

“I don't think so.” Derrick said. He parked in front of a small Italian deli. “Let's get a soft drink.”

Derrick purposely ignored her stormy expression and got out before she could react. He crossed in front of the 4Runner and opened the passenger door. Talia glared at him as she swung her shapely legs around.

“I don't find this side of you terribly attractive,” she said.

“What side of me, darlin'?”

“We definitely need to talk,” she said sharply, mocking him.

Talia marched ahead of him to a sidewalk table. They were the only customers outside the small eatery. A waiter came out and took their orders for iced tea, then left. Derrick watched the traffic for several minutes. An olive green trolley car clattered by, loaded
with tourists and city dwellers. Bright sunshine painted the scene. Everything suggested this should be a relaxed, romantic interlude in an enchanting setting, the Garden District. Instead his temper threatened to boil over, and so did hers.

“Well?” Talia crossed her arms and gave him an “I want an explanation, Mister!” look.

“Did you know Jarrod was in Louisiana?”

“No,” she said curtly. “And I won't beg you to believe me.”

“Don't be silly.” Derrick continued to stare into the distance without seeing the lovely scenery.

“Right, no need in both of us acting like children.”

Derrick glanced at her. Talia pursed her lips in annoyance as she gazed back at him. He sighed and shook his head slowly. “I don't have any right to hold on to you. I know that.”

“Will you stop?” Talia said fiercely. “We both know it's a hell of a lot more complicated than that.” She broke off when the waiter appeared.

“Sure you don't want something else? Our shrimp cocktails are the perfect afternoon snack.” The waiter flashed a professional smile.

“No thanks,” Talia said.

Derrick paid him, and he left. Talia opened her mouth to speak but didn't. They sat in silence for a long time, sipping through the straws in their glasses. The worst part of it was Derrick understood only too well why she didn't want to be with him. In fact, what he was about to tell her would confirm her desire to leave Louisiana for good. No sense in putting it off.

“So, what is the big news flash that brought you all the way to New Orleans?” She tapped a foot impatiently.

“Earl was a police informant,” he said in a low voice. “He was paid out of the DA's Office.”

Talia stared at him in shock as the words sank in. Then she slapped a palm on the table. “Damn! Monette must have known.”

“What exactly do you want from me?” The tall dark-skinned Black man stood in front of Barron, twisting his hands together.

“Sit down, Jerry.” Barron nodded to a chair.

“I don't plan to be here long. Just spit it out.” Jerome Hines wore a tense frown.

“Jerry, what is this hostility about?” Barron lifted his hands as he spoke. He sighed when Hines didn't answer him.

A large ornate clock in a cherrywood frame ticked loudly on the wall, its large round pendulum swinging east to west. Barron went to the wet bar across his spacious office. Outside the window lights from downtown Baton Rouge twinkled in the twilight. The Mississippi River and the bridge leading to West Baton Rouge Parish were visible from his fifteenth-story window. Barron poured a glass of wine, then walked to the window. He sipped slowly.

“I love the view,” he said in a quiet tone. He turned to Hines. “You know what I mean?”

Jerry's left eyebrow twitched. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Money makes the world go round, sure. But I like
being able to effect change.” Barron turned his back to Hines again.

“You mean power.”

Barron nodded. “I think of it as a way to make things right.” He drained the wineglass and set it on the desk. “Enough philosophy.”

“So why did you summon me? I don't work for you now.”

“You came because of everything we've been through together.” Barron gazed at him with a solemn expression.

“Yeah, right,” Hines said with a grimace. He looked away.

“You visited the Victor woman in prison. That wasn't a very prudent thing to do.” Barron smoothed down his silk tie and sat on the edge of his desk.

“I've been doing some investigative work for a private law firm. One of their clients—”

“Don't bother lying,” Barron broke in. His deep voice was even, like a school principal chastising a truant. “Why?”

“Like I said, I was there on business and happened to see her. We just talked for a few minutes.” Hines met his gaze without blinking.

His eyes narrowed. “She's going before the parole board in a few weeks. Rand agreed to take her case and months later you visit her. I don't believe in coincidences.”

“You got a question, ask it.” Hines did not look away, but a fine sheen of sweat coated his upper lip.

“I don't need to ask you anything. As I said, we've been through a lot together. I appreciate all you did for me.” Barron nodded slowly.

Hines eyed him warily. “Thanks.”

“You performed the duties as lead investigator for my
office very well. In fact I nominated you for the award you got back in 1987. Remember?” Barron smiled.

“Sure I remember.” Hines shifted from one foot to the other.

“Nice big brass plaque with your name on it as I recall. For outstanding contributions to law enforcement,” Barron murmured. “Those were glory days, Jerry. We put away a lot of bad people.”

“Uh-huh. Look, my wife is expecting me for dinner.” Hines squared his shoulders. “Nice talking about old times, but…” Still the tall man didn't move.

“Yes, a lot of water under the bridge so to speak. Remember the Broussard brothers? Disgusting white trash. You helped put them away.” Barron pointed a thick forefinger at him.

“Right, right.” Hines wiped a trickle of perspiration from his temple.

“And the Collins boy. We were so sure he killed that little girl, but we just couldn't get him to talk.” Barron smiled. “Until you stepped up to the plate.”

“He didn't kill that girl.” His voice cracked. “I didn't do anything but my job. I can't help it if he got stabbed to death in prison.”

“Don't be modest. Besides, he'd molested a child three years before and got probation. What kind of justice was that?” Barron held out his palms again. “I could name at least ten more cases where you made the difference.”

“What do you want?” Hines whispered hoarsely.

“Nothing, Jerry.” Barron walked to him and clapped a hand on his back. “I won't keep you from your dear wife. How is Delores these days?”

“Fine.”

“Those fine twin boys of yours out of college?” Barron kept his hand on Hines's shoulder.

“One more year,” Hines replied.

“Of course. Brian plans to go to law school and Brendon will work on getting his MBA. Expensive to educate kids these days.” Barron smiled at him. “Wonderful how you've provided for them.”

“I did what I had to.”

“I'll never forget all you did, Jerry.” Barron squeezed his shoulder with one large hand, then let go.

Hines stepped away from him. “I won't forget you either.”

“We worked well together. But you were quite independent back then. I didn't look over your shoulder at every move you made.”

“Oh, so that's how it is. You'll bury me.” Hines wore a cold smile despite the fear in his black eyes. “Don't threaten me.”

“Jerry, we've always been on the same side.” Barron nodded. “Trust me.”

“Yeah, right,” Hines said.

“I'm just giving you advice.” Barron's expression hardened until his face looked like cut stone.

“Which is?”

“I worked very hard to clean up Pointe Coupee Parish. Monette is exactly where she should be. Don't exercise poor judgment.” Barron's eyes glittered.

Hines blinked rapidly as though he'd been slapped hard across the face. They stared at each other for several seconds until Hines looked away. He rubbed his forehead.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks for stopping by.” Barron patted his shoulder once more. “And be sure and tell Delores I said hello.”

Barron's smile remained until Hines disappeared
through the outer door past his secretary's desk. Once he heard the elevator bell Barron stopped smiling.

 

Talia ached to feel Derrick's arms around her. But life wasn't so simple. She'd never been able just to reach out and receive love easily. There was always a price to pay. Derrick wore a stiff expression. They hadn't talked for four days since he'd met her in New Orleans. Correction, since he'd followed her to New Orleans. And what was up with that? He was investigating her now. Still, she'd accepted his invitation to dinner. Bad idea. Now they were at his house. Tense silence was broken only by awkward small talk. Soft blues from a Baton Rouge station did little to ease the taut atmosphere.

“Your favorite.” Derrick handed her a glass of merlot.

“Thanks.” Talia moved over to give him more room next to her on the butter soft leather sofa.

“So.” Derrick held his wineglass in both hands.

“So,” Talia repeated, and took a long sip.

“We've talked and said very little. Definitely not like us.” Derrick cleared his throat.

“Maybe we don't want to say too much,” Talia replied.

“How is Miz Rose?” Derrick did not look at her.

Talia gave him a sideways glance. His jaw muscle seemed stretched tight. “She's doing great. In fact, she's got a new man.”

“At least somebody will live happily ever after,” Derrick said with a thin smile that vanished quickly.

“Yeah.” Talia squirmed.

“And what about you?” Derrick put the glass down on the coffee table.

“I told Rand what you found out. He's got a great
team of students. He'll do his best for Monette.” She paused. “I plan to leave in a week, maybe two.”

“Everything all neat and tidy. At least it is for you.” Derrick glanced at her then away.

“It's not like that, Derrick.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to pick a fight.” He stood and crossed to the bar in a corner of his living room.

Talia finished the rest of her wine and held out the glass. “More please.”

Derrick walked over and placed his hand over hers without taking the glass. They stared at each other for a long time. A sensual blues song flowed from the compact disc player. He guided her hand down, and she put the glass on the table. Talia rose at the same time Derrick gently tugged her arm. She went into his strong embrace, eager to feel his heat. His mouth brushed hers as if he wanted an appetizer first.

“I'm trying to be mad at you, but…” His tongue eased between her parted lips. A groan came from deep in his throat.

Their kiss lasted a long time, through the scant few minutes it took him to take off her blouse and bra. Talia removed his shirt. She placed both palms flat against his chest. The curly hair felt wonderful on her skin. Derrick held each of her breasts in his hands. His thumbs rubbed the nipples until she felt weak.

“You're so beautiful. What will I do when you're gone, baby?” he said, his words muffled by her flesh.

“Don't talk, please,” she whispered.

Derrick answered by pulling her down on top of him on the sofa. Without remembering doing so, Talia managed to take off her black jeans and panties. She helped him push down his pants and bikini briefs. They stared into each other's eyes as she lowered herself onto him. Derrick caressed her hips as she rocked gently at first.

“I missed you so much. So much,” Derrick said.

Talia gripped his shoulders. She let out a moan that was half sob as he continued to whisper to her. Derrick shifted and rolled her onto the sofa so that he was on top. He lifted her legs to his shoulders and thrust deep inside her. She cried out as the powerful orgasm took control of every muscle in her body.

She stroked his hair as he came with sharp, deep thrusts. His soft moans lifted her up until she felt a second climax. They held each other tightly, the sweat from their bodies mixed together. For a long time they lay unmoving. Finally, Derrick lifted her from the sofa. Without speaking, he carried her into his bedroom. The comforter and sheets had been turned back neatly. He placed her in his bed and lay beside her. The only light came from a small lamp.

“You have to leave me,” he said as he tangled his fingers in her long hair.

“I'm not leaving you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said firmly. “You can't handle dealing with Monette or the past. I'm tied to both.”

“Please, please don't get mixed up with Monette's case.”

“I can't even promise if I wanted to. I have a bad feeling about this thing, Talia. Larry is going to need my help as much as Monette.” Derrick propped himself up on one elbow.

“Like hell!” Talia clutched his strong bicep. “When push comes to shove, he and Barron will protect each other, and you'll be out in the cold.”

“I can't stand by and do nothing,” Derrick insisted. “This is who I am. Do you love me for who I am, or do you want to change me?”

“Do you love me enough to make a change?” she countered. “I had enough of living on the edge to last three lifetimes.”

“You're trying to invent this world that doesn't exist.”

“That's the point, Derrick. It
does
exist for other people.” Talia pushed herself up and sat back on the fluffy pillows. “I don't want to know about drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes. I've been there, done that, and got all the souvenirs I need.”

“We're back to the same place.” Derrick sat up and swung his muscular legs down to the floor.

Talia rose and started to get dressed. “You want to hold on to the past, and I want to let it go.”

Derrick pulled on a pair of dusty blue sweatpants. He faced her. “No,
you're
holding on to the past, not me. You're carrying around all this baggage, and you know what? I think you like it.”

“Don't play therapist with me!” Talia snapped. She hopped from the bed.

“You're not a foster kid anymore. There isn't any danger to you or me.”

“Now who's living in a fantasy world? I'm sick of having this argument.”

“Me too. I guess we've both been unrealistic.” Derrick walked out of the room.

“I never made promises,” she called after him angrily.

Muttering to herself, she went into his spacious master bathroom and took a quick shower. Fifteen minutes later she was dressed. She found Derrick seated at the breakfast counter in his kitchen, drinking a cup of hot orange tea. The aroma filled the air.

“Want some?” he said, without looking at her.

“No, thanks.” Talia leaned against the far end of the counter.

“No sense in dragging it out.” Derrick stared into the cup as though seeking answers from tea leaves.

“Yeah.” She didn't trust herself to say more.

Talia felt like they were light-years apart. He stood straight and crossed his arms. His white cotton T-shirt molded to the outline of his chest. Talia stared at the powerful brown arms that had held her moments before. She missed him already.

“Like I said, I'm going to help Monette.” Derrick lifted his square chin to gaze down at her.

“I figured that out.” Talia walked out toward the living room. She heard his padded footsteps behind her as he followed.

“By the way, I haven't seen anything that suggests she knew Earl was an informant.”

“Oh please! She knew.”

“Probably. Winn Barron is somehow in the mix,” Derrick said with a frown.

“All the more reason for you to stay out of it. But I won't repeat myself.” Talia held up a palm toward him. “Your mind is made up.”

“I wish you had more faith in me,” he said quietly.

“That isn't the issue here.”

“It is for me,” he said.

Talia spun to face him. “Get it through your head. You can't fix everything. Bad people get away with stuff, justice doesn't always prevail, and the weak get eaten up by the strong.”

“So you're going to escape again.”

“Damn right!” Talia rubbed her eyes. “Take me home, please.”

“I'll get my keys.”

Derrick strode out and came back in minutes. He opened the front door, and Talia walked out ahead of him to the driveway. They drove through the dark to Mama Rose's house without speaking. He turned on the radio. When a love song came on, Derrick quickly changed the station. Talia's heart grew heavy when he
turned into the driveway. Derrick turned off the engine. Both stared straight ahead through the windshield.