Chance Collision (2 page)

“I’m gonna be the bestest big broder ever!”

Her laugh jolted him. It was as tempting as she was.

“I bet you are,” Nikki told Ethan, holding out her hand. The little boy slapped a loud high-five.

The buzz of Pete’s phone offered him the excuse he needed to tear his attention away from the Chief’s lovely administrative assistant. He offered a wave and turned away. He admonished Ethan to hush while he brought the phone to his ear.

“Crane,” he said.

“How’s Ethan?” Cole asked.

“Howdy to you, too, bud,” Pete answered, hiking the little boy up higher on his hip. Kid was getting heavy.

Cole’s sigh was all the answer he got.

“Everything okay?” he asked his partner’s husband.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Isn’t your wife, I don’t know, having a baby or something?”

“Not yet. I just wanted to call and check in,” Cole said.

Pete’s bullshit meter lit up like a Christmas tree. He set Ethan down on his desk in the Criminal Investigations Division room—where all the detectives officed—as they reached it, handing his partner’s son the foam apple he kept around to squeeze when he was stressed.

Ethan made motor sounds as he steered the paper aeroplane around, then rammed the apple into it, making explosion noises.

He grinned at the child. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Cole asked.

Pete might have only known the guy for about a year, but it was obvious his buddy was trying to come off as innocent. It might’ve worked on someone else. “How’s my partner?”

“She’s…fine.”

“Okay, quit hedging. You’re starting to worry me. Is something wrong?”

“Sorry.” Cole’s tone was dejected. “Everything’s fine. Really.”

“What’d you do?”

“Andi’s…in a mood.”

“Well, hell, she
is
having a baby.”

“She…asked me to leave the room.” His fellow detective’s voice dropped to a whisper.

Pete couldn’t hold the laugh back. He shook his head, though his friend couldn’t see him, ignoring Cole’s growl. “Do you want me to come up there?”

“I can handle my wife,” Cole shot back.

He held back another laugh. Damn good thing Andi couldn’t hear her husband’s declaration. “Want to talk to your kid?”

“Sure.”

“Ethan, your dad’s on the phone,” Pete said.

The little boy’s face lit up even before he handed over his cell phone. “Daddy!”

It was odd considering someone other than Iain as Andi’s son’s father. Pete’s partner’s first husband had never got the chance to be a father to Ethan, but Cole was a great dad. The former FBI agent was equal parts fantastic husband and hell of a cop, too. Stubborn, like his partner, but they were made for each other.

Iain would have liked the guy, as odd as that was to contemplate. A fellow cop and good friend of Pete’s, Iain had been killed in the line of duty over four years ago, leaving a six-week-old baby and a devastated wife to cope without him.

Pete had been out of commission when Cole had come to town after a human trafficker. The slimy bastard had put two bullets in Pete, actually.

The FBI agent had turned Andi’s life upside down. But they’d solved their case and fallen for each other. It was satisfying to see his partner happy again. She’d always meant the world to him. Cole was a good guy.

He heard the steady hum of Cole’s voice as he spoke to Ethan. Pete smiled as the kid babbled away about the paper aeroplane and Nikki. Her carefree laugh bounced around into his mind and he sat straighter in the chair.
Get her out of your head, dude. You’ve bigger things to worry about than a chick you can’t have.

Pete snapped back to attention when Ethan handed his cell over.

“Pete?” Cole’s voice was far away as Pete’s fumbling fingers brought the iPhone back to his ear.

“I’m here.”

“Well, I’m not. I need to go. Nurse’s hollering.”

“Showtime?”

“Maybe.” Cole’s voice kicked up a notch.

Pete smiled. “It’ll be okay. Go have a baby. Keep us posted.”

“You got it. Cass is gonna grab E-man later.”

“Good deal.”

Cole disconnected the call, and Pete glanced at the little boy sitting on the edge of his desk. Ethan was still making motor noises, flying the pliable fake fruit and his paper aeroplane around in circles.

God, he was growing up. Not a tiny baby anymore. Hell, not a baby at all. Pete had held him and changed his diapers, fed him so many times in the middle of the night he’d lost count. Almost like Ethan was his kid.

Andi had needed that from him. He loved her like a sister. It wasn’t a chore to be more than her partner at work. She’d needed him.

But not now. She had a new love, a new life. And Pete was happy for her. But he’d been…displaced. They’d been partners for years. More than that, they’d been best friends.
Still best friends, dammit.
Now that she had Cole in her life, they saw less and less of each other outside of work.

Pete needed to get a life.

And isn’t that pathetic?

His text alert went off and he glanced at his cell.

We need to talk. Do you have time for me tonight?

Liz.

Shit.

Sucking in a breath, Pete looked at Ethan and pocketed his phone. He didn’t have time for the lovely blonde attorney.

“C’mon, squirt. Let’s go to Dixie’s and get some grub.”

“Yeah!”

Pete grinned at the kid’s enthusiasm and swung Ethan into his arms.

Liz would wait.

Chapter Two

Nikki tried to tear her eyes away from Detective Pete Crane as the tall lean form moved down the corridor with the child on his hip. Probably headed to his cubicle in CID, as most of the PD called it.

She’d always thought he was good-looking, but she’d never noticed just how green his eyes were before today. He’d stared at her, hadn’t he?

He hadn’t talked to her often, but he had a quick wit. Pete was always making someone laugh about something. He gave off the constant impression of being carefree and easy-going.

It wasn’t odd to see him with his partner’s son. Before Andi had remarried, Pete and Andi had seemed forever attached at the hip. Half the PD had assumed they were more than just partners.

Nikki was a friend of Andi, so she knew better, but she’d always been curious as to why Pete wasn’t married. Or ever even hinted at being in a relationship. Of course, there was nothing wrong with being a private person, but Nikki had never heard Andi talk about Pete dating anyone, and he’d never brought a woman other than his mother to police department functions like the annual Christmas party or family picnic held every spring.

A man who looked like Detective Pete Crane, with those gorgeous eyes, high cheekbones and sculpted body, could likely have any woman he wanted.

So what was
wrong
with him?

Shaking herself, she sucked in a breath and headed back to her desk in the smaller front room of Chief Martin’s executive suite. Nikki needed to check on Gram. She hadn’t talked to her since early that morning, and the woman who’d raised her hadn’t had much positive to say about the rehab centre—or its staff. Gram’s doctor was making her stay at Health Solutions for another few weeks.

Then Nikki would have to broach the ‘
You can’t live by yourself anymore
’ subject that she just plain dreaded. No one told Molly Jenkins what to do, least of all the
woman
she most certainly still saw as a child.

Worry roiled in Nikki’s gut as she moved her chair and reached for the phone. In a matter of moments she’d memorised the number to her grandmother’s private room at Antioch’s one and only rehabilitation centre. It’d only been open for a few years, and was close. Good thing Gram wasn’t far from home.

The phone rang twice. “Hi, Gram.”

“Nikki, baby.” Nikki heard the familiar gravelly voice of the only family she had.

“Yes, ma’am, it’s me. How’re you?”

“I want to go home.”

She swallowed back a sigh and sat straighter. “I know. But you need to listen to Dr Bishop this time.”

“I am fully capable of—”

But Gram wasn’t. Not anymore. “These things take time.”

“Pish-tosh. Now you sound like
them,
child.”

Of course, all medical staff was looped equally into
evil.
“Because I love you, Gram. Always.”

“I can’t get any sleep. They wake me at all hours to poke and prod me.”

Nikki released a breath, cocking her head to one side. “They’re doing what they need to do to make you better.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

She wouldn’t contradict her grandmother with the truth. Nikki wanted her calm, not riled. This conversation wasn’t going as planned. “I’m gonna come have dinner with you. I want to see you.”

“Good. I want to see you, too.”

“What’d you want to eat?” Her voice caught. The lump in her throat was sudden and unwelcome. She closed her eyes against the image of her grandmother on the kitchen floor the morning of the stroke.

Nikki’s world had narrowed. Panic had surged and threatened to overtake her. She’d thought she was dead. That she’d lost Gram.

“Whatever you bring, baby. You cookin’?”

She cleared her throat. “I can. Or I can just grab a plate from Dixie’s. Grilled chicken and the potatoes you like. Marge will make it special if I ask.”

“Sounds good. I really do like Marge’s red potatoes.” Gram’s voice deepened, her words slowing.

Terror jumped up from Nikki’s stomach. “Gram?”

“Yes?” The word was accompanied with a yawn and Nikki screamed at herself to calm down. Her heart thumped.

Gram’s fine. She’s tired. It’s not another stroke.

“I’ll just call Marge if it’s okay with you.” Forcing her words to remain even, she fidgeted in her chair, biting back a curse when her knee rammed into her keyboard tray.

“It’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you before six, then.”

“Okay, darlin’.” The familiar endearment rolled off her grandmother’s tongue like normal.

Nikki smiled. Gram was going to be fine. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

“Nikki?”

Her gaze darted to her boss poking his dark head around the doorframe from his office as she laid the phone in its cradle. “Yes, Chief?”

“I have a conference call until two. Can you order in lunch?”

“Sure. What do you want?”

Chief Martin smiled, making his greying moustache twitch. “Just the daily special at Dixie’s. Order something for yourself, too.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

“Thanks.” His voice faded as he disappeared back into his room.

“Two birds with one stone,” Nikki murmured as she picked up the phone again.

* * * *

Berto jumped as he made a grab for the cell phone vibrating across the coffee table.
Unknown
flashed on the screen.

One of his daughters giggled, and he glanced in the direction of the two little girls. He slid his thumb across the touch screen to answer the call, strolling to the other end of the living room. As far away from the twins as he could get.

Calm the fuck down.

“Mata,” Berto said.

Heavy breathing greeted his ear before the raspy voice. “Always hiding out in the open, ‘eh?”

Shit. Caselli himself.
Berto’s heart dropped to his stomach and he turned his body away from the children, swallowing hard. “Go to hell,” he croaked.

His old boss laughed, a cackle really that one would expect from a much older man—or a wart-nosed witch. Then Caselli inhaled, as if he was taking a drag on something. Probably a cigar. The crime boss liked his Cubans. “What did I tell you four years ago?”

Berto said nothing, but closed his eyes.

“You will always be mine, Alberto Carbone.”

“Mateo Mata.”

“Call yourself whatever you want. You. Are. Mine.”

“Fuck off, Caselli.”

There was another laugh that made Berto’s spine tingle. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

The call wasn’t a shocker. The three threats—promises—had arrived consecutively, starting over a week ago. Caselli’s calling card of a dozen roses—first red, then white, finally black—and a
Thinking About You
greeting card always preceded a death.

Last warning: phone call.

Over the years, Berto had arranged so many of the same, as well as delivered the final blow, he’d lost count.

If he was smart, he would’ve packed his wife and the girls up and got out of Dodge. But he wasn’t running. He’d been done with Caselli for more than four years—too bad the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“You really fucked me over this time. Talking to the Feds? I always knew you had brass balls.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

No way was Caselli referring to the Carlo Maldonado situation almost a year ago. Berto wouldn’t have had this long of a shelf life.

His old boss had even appeared to have given up on turncoat former FBI agent Cole Lucas. It wasn’t a secret where the man had settled and taken a job in local law enforcement. Yet Caselli had let him live.

“Let’s not be foolish. We both know it was you.”

Nope.
Berto had no idea what the bastard was referring to. How to answer? Denial didn’t matter, even if it was the truth. Weakness would be perceived quickly. He shouldn’t be concerned anyway. Caselli always went for the jugular.

“Whatever I did must have seriously pissed you off, since you’re calling me yourself. Or have you failed to replace Bruno after, what, almost a year?”

Caselli laughed long and hard. “Want your old job back?”

“Fuck no.”

The growl told Berto he was getting to the man after all. “You’d best get your affairs in order.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Caselli.”
Liar.
But Berto was more frightened for his family than he ever could be of his former employer. Sucking in a breath, he glanced over his shoulder.

His daughters shuffled dolls back and forth. Laughing, playing, bickering like sisters did. Innocence surrounded him. Berto didn’t deserve a happy family after all he’d done in his life.

If Caselli was going to kill him, so be it. But what about Maria and the girls? They’d been through hell, but he’d got all of them out of the life. He loved her. She loved him. Understood him. Accepted him, despite his past before she’d stumbled into his sorry existence.