Special Agent Maximilian (3 page)

“Christ, it’s just like her to pull a stunt like this.” Furious, Max moved forward to haul his mother up off the floor. Before he could start to lift her, Nik’s arms had scooped her close and he gently lowered her to the sofa. He unbuttoned her tight collar. “Get some water for her; she’ll want some when she comes to.”

Max hesitated, anger still coloring his expression, but he did as Nik ordered.

Within a few minutes, the woman’s eyelids fluttered and her trembling hand reached toward her throat. Nik took the water from Max. “What’s her name?”

“Mom.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Nik couldn’t believe that Max would make jokes at a time like this. Their mother lay on the couch, having had the shock of her life, and Max seemed to think it was amusing.

“Look, her name is Nellie and she pulls these faints whenever she has to deal with a crisis. It’s her way. She always comes out of them in the end. When I was a boy, they used to terrify me. Now—not so much.”

The faint moan caught both men’s attentions. What finished them was the wail of pain that followed. It made the hairs on the back of Nik’s head stand straight up, and he felt his skin pebble up his arms and around his back. Shivers attacked, leaving him extremely uncomfortable. He’d rather face a platoon of snipers than this one tiny woman.

“Max?”

“I’m here, Mom.”

“Who’s with you?” Nellie’s eyes were scrunched closed. It was almost comical.

“My brother, Nik Baudin.”

“I thought you were going to say that. Is he still here?”

“Yes, Mom. He’s holding your hand.”

With her eyes closed, Nellie moved her other hand over Nik’s and grasped tightly. “My Nik. My own baby boy. I never dreamed this day would come. Or that you were alive.”

Nik swallowed the lump that was choking him. “The Bastard told me you were dead. I never knew I was a twin, or that you were alive. If I had known, I would have come to find you.”

Her eyes opened slowly. She stared at him, searching each feature. He returned her gaze, getting lost in the blue depths of her still gorgeous eyes. Sparkling from tears, they glowed, the light of love blazing at him so strongly it stunned him, weakened him—made him sob inside, which scared him.

She blinked away the unremitting tears. “The Bastard told you I’d died? I don’t understand.”

Hatred for the man who had been his father curdled Nik’s emotions. Before he could speak, he had to swallow the bile that churned and threatened to erupt.

Stunned, he repeated himself. “I never knew you were alive, or that I had a brother.”

Nellie sat up and slumped back against the cushions, careful not to let go of Nik’s hand. She looked over at Max. But he said nothing. So she swiped at her nose with the wad of tissues Max had handed her and began to talk.

“I like your name for him, used it over the years myself a time or two. Hang on, Max. I’m getting to it.”

Nellie waved Max away after he’d made an impatient move towards her. Then she turned back to Nik, her eyes begging for forgiveness. “In a nutshell, the
Bastard
beat me until I hated the sight of him. One night, Nik, you woke up. Even as a two-year-old, you ran up to him and yelled for him to stop. And so he turned on you. He hit you hard. You flew against the wall and lost consciousness. I was in no condition to go with you to the hospital, so he took you himself. I guess it scared him. He’d hurt you too badly to ignore your injuries.

While he was gone, I called my brother-in-law. He and my sister were in town and had invited us to visit with them at their hotel. It was the reason your father had lost his temper in the first place. He’d refused to let me see them, and, for once in my life, I’d argued. ‘No way,’ he’d screamed. I’d never seen him so furious. But it had been years and I really wanted to visit with her. Of course, he’d made sure it wouldn’t happen. Or thought he had.”

“Once he’d left with you, I called a taxi, packed up Max and left, went to my sister’s hotel and they took me in. I called him the next day to tell him I was leaving him and taking you boys with me, and he was livid. ‘Don’t bother going to the hospital,’ he’d said. That’s when he told me you had died and if I wanted to leave, fine. To get the hell out of his life and not to come crawling back or he’d take Max and kill me. God forgive me, I believed the Bastard.”

Max interrupted. “You mean you never checked with the hospital, Mom? How could you be so dense?”

“Hey? Back off, bro. Let her finish.” Nik surged to his feet, and Max’s blink of surprise halted his forward momentum, stopped him from beating the crap out of his newly found, short-tempered brother. His glare worked and Max shrugged and stayed where he was. Nik resumed his seat beside Nellie and patted her hand. “Go on.”

“Of course I did, Max. But I wasn’t in any shape to go to the hospital myself. Your father had thrashed me worse than usual and had broken two of my ribs. Besides, I’d collapsed from hearing the horrible news about Nikky, so my brother-in-law made the trip instead. When he returned to the hotel, he confirmed that you had died and your father had already made arrangements with the hospital. I was in agony, broken-hearted, and couldn’t seem to snap out of it. I found out later that Vi had drugged me to calm me down and the pills had had an adverse effect on me. I was a zombie. So, my sister and brother-in-law packed me and Max up and brought us to their home here in New Orleans.” Exhausted by her speech, Nellie started to sob.

Max finally came close and rubbed her shoulders. “Uncle Ed was a real bastard, too, Nik. Chances are, he made a deal with our father to keep quiet about your recovery. To an asshole like him, it would have seemed fair for them each to keep a child. Besides, he knew that Mom would never have come here to look after them if she’d known you were still alive. Both my aunt and uncle used Mom as their personal maid and nurse until the day he passed on, then she followed a few years ago.”

Nik shook his head, disbelieving the cruelty of some people. It never ceased to amaze him how folks could treat others so inhumanely.

In a voice softened from caring, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, Nellie. That this had to happen to you.” Caressing her hand, he squeezed it gently.

Nellie’s head shot up and she yanked her fingers from his to point at him. “This didn’t just happen to me, Nik Baudin. It happened to us. And my name is Mom.”

Maya couldn’t believe that Max, or whoever it was she’d run into today, could do this to her again. That son-of-a-bitch drove her crazy. Her partner’s whims were the bane of her existence and if he wasn’t such a good agent, she’d have asked for a transfer a long time ago. Fisting her hands, nails digging into soft skin, she huffed out a breath and relaxed. Who was she trying to kid?

New Orleans had been home for her ever since she’d come with her family years ago and it would be hard to pull up roots now. Something about the place had grabbed her heartstrings and wouldn’t let go. Whether it was the spicy seafood treats and fried oyster po’boys, the diversity and eccentricities of this port city, or the feeling of history that could be seen if one cared to look, she didn’t know. All she knew was when it had come time for her to fill out the box on the FBI’s form for where she’d prefer to be posted; she’d filled in New Orleans.

Not once had she regretted her decision. She lived far enough away from her needy family that she could go back periodically and not expect too many return visits, thank goodness. Between her mother and two sisters, there might be enough brain power to rule one simpleton. Those women didn’t have a clue. Men and money, in that order, were all they cared about.

Her mom was a single mother who’d had three girls to raise; she’d done so by attaching herself to the first willing man, rather than working at a career in order to provide. Maya and her sisters had grown up with so many step-dads that she couldn’t remember their names anymore. Some had been nice while others had been assholes, most had been cheap, and all were gone.

Sadly, the one who Maya had considered her only true father had died young. A black man with a pure-gold heart and a talent for the clarinet, Sam Brown had been the one who’d made sure she didn’t become like the others. He’d spent enough time with the idealistic young girl to explain the intricacies of life, the importance of self-respect and personal values.

In her early teens, the dreamer years where optimism and impracticality ruled, he’d made a huge impact. Life had been good when they’d lived with Sam. He’d adored her mother and treated her like a lady, same with her daughters. That lesson had become ingrained in Maya. She knew she couldn’t settle for less and still hadn’t found a guy with Sam’s special gifts.

Sheila and Kerrie, Maya’s two sisters, hadn’t been as affected by Sam’s charms. When he’d been around they’d been older, at the budding stage—that border between teenage silliness and an
I’m a woman now
mentality.

They were both man crazy. Power over the male species meant wiggling their gorgeous tushes and submitting their lush bodies for the attentions they seemed to crave. Not a problem whatsoever, as long as it got them what they wanted: a good time and a man to rule their world.

Not so for Maya. Never!

During the years they’d lived with him, Sam had accepted a gig in New Orleans with his band at Preservation Hall, and had brought the family to a small, quaint house he owned near the Mississippi. They’d had a wonderful year before leaving to go back to Los Angelas.

Throughout those months, her love for the city had solidified. They’d spent every hour he’d had free touring the places where he’d hung out as a boy, touristy spots like Bourbon Street and the famous French Quarter. They’d even fished on the bayou and taken multiple riverboat cruises. On those wonderful days, he’d cemented her love for the local food and music. Sneaking her into the Hall to hear him play his jazz had delighted her, and it had cultivated an undying love for those incredible sounds.

One day in particular haunted her often. He’d taken her on yet another riverboat cruise and they’d sat outside in the shaded deck area talking as usual.

“Don’t be so hard on your sisters. They can’t help being the people they are. No one taught them any different.”

“Like you’re teaching me?” Maya had reached for his hand and after he’d gently wrapped his long artist’s fingers around her smaller ones, she’d hung on.

“You could say that. But, sugar-baby, you’re a sponge. I never knew anyone who wanted so bad to learn everything she could.”

“Because I’m not like them, I don’t get how they think. All they care about is boyfriends, clothes, and hairdos. What does that matter? What about the poor and homeless? What about the crime rate and the lack of federal help here in New Orleans? What about—”

“Maya, not everyone arrives in this crazy ol’ world with a civil conscience. Most don’t. Maybe they’ll learn to care as they grow older. But you’re one of those rare people who were born giving a damn. You never want to lose that, sweetheart. It’s what makes you stand out from the sleepers, makes you special. You know what I mean?”

“Like the way you feel when you’re playing your music?”

“That’s right. I’m one with God when my clarinet is singing sweetly and I’m entertaining the folks. No better feeling in the world than doing what you were meant to do.”

“Sam, what do you think I was meant to do?”

“Shoot, child. From the way you’re always trying to look after your family, I’d say you need to be in law enforcement.”

Maya had giggled while he’d roared. The private joke was shared between them and had given her one of her favorite memories of their times together. They’d laughed because lately her sisters had started using the phrase, “What are you, a cop?” so often that even her mother had spit it at her. All she’d done was question them about their antics and habit of disappearing without notice.

Visiting the past, Maya was so deep in her thoughts that she wasn’t aware of the approaching officers until one spoke.

“Ma’am, is this sleeping beauty here the perp?”

Coming back to the present with a start, Maya nodded at the two uniforms who were standing in front of the table where old Hank, groggy and garbling, was beginning to regain consciousness. “That’s right! And don’t hurry processing him. The asshole needs to hang with us for as long as possible, give his poor mistreated family a chance to bolt.”

Not quite understanding, but unwilling to argue with authority, the younger of the two cops took his time handcuffing the criminal, letting him fall as often as he wanted on the way to the police vehicle. Meanwhile, his partner sat comfortably with Maya, ordered a cup of coffee and wrote out the particulars for the arrest.

“Lots of tourists today, Maya. Looks like we’ll be in for a busy season.”

“Bill, as long as they come to see the sights, I’m fine with it. The lawbreakers here on business are something different altogether. Have you heard any word on the street about the Mosleys selling a new product?”

An older cop, knowledgeable and hard-working, Bill was all ears. His stern gaze held hers. “What kind of a product?”

“New girls. Lots of them. Mostly Filipino. All underage, and all selling for big bucks.”

“I thought we’d cleared out that kind of business long ago. Don’t tell me they’re at it again?”

“Looks like that particular gang intends to make a splash, earn some big money and feed the animals who can afford to pay for their innocent prey.”

“Bloody shit never stops, does it?” Bill slapped the table and then used it to help him gain his feet, his knees cracking more than once. “I’ll keep my ears open and get back to you if I hear anything.” Sluggishly, as if he carried the weight of the world on his back, he shook his head and sauntered to the waiting patrol car.

In the meantime, Maya scanned the area, hoping against hope that the clone of her missing partner would return. Strangely, she’d believed the stranger who’d sat across from her today. There was a warm aura around him that glowed like the sun with orange streaks. Her instinct to trust had shocked her. After all, that had been one of the problems she’d had with Max.

She’d always known he was number one in his world. But as much as her partner drove her insane, she did care about him. Plus, she needed those files that Max had gone after the last time she’d seen him. The files that held proof that a cargo of underage girls had arrived in their city and, at the moment, were being forced into prostitution.

The last message Max had texted was that he had a good lead, was on it and would have the information they needed to move in. She’d never heard from him or seen him since.

Now what worried Maya was that if there was one shipment, most likely by now there’d be more.