Working Man (2 page)

Nick stared down at his niece, who looked as though she'd just committed a major crime. He took off his baseball cap, tossed his sunglasses into it and put it on an end table. “So who is she, baby girl? You're actin' like you ran over Rosa Parks or something.”

Plucking the sheet of paper from her nerveless fingers, Nick stepped over his niece's long legs to sit on the sofa. He leaned back and stretched his legs out to watch her performance. Ebony was just like her mother, intelligent, emotional and dramatic. Luckily, she was sweet and loving like his sister-in-law so he indulged her little histrionics because he found them amusing. “Why are you so upset, Ebony? I keep telling you it was just a little accident. That's why people have insurance, to protect them when things get out of order through no fault of their own. I'm getting ready to call my insurance company right now and her ride will be fixed in no time. No big deal.”

Ebony dropped her hands and found her voice. “Dakota Phillips happens to be the greatest writer of true crime stories in the country, Uncle Nick. She's brilliant. She's beyond brilliant, she's a true genius! She's won all kinds of awards and prizes and she even got a genius grant from the National Endowment of the Arts when she was like, nineteen or something. All of her books are on the
New York Times
bestseller list and three of them have been made into movies. She's been nominated for an Oscar for an original screenplay and she even has a Pulitzer Prize. And I destroyed her car,” Ebony moaned. “She's the whole reason I decided to major in journalism and I almost killed the woman!”

Nick looked deeply interested in her babbling. “A Pulitzer Prize, huh? Is that anything like a Heisman Trophy?” he asked innocently.

Ebony made a sound of impatience. “Aww, quit playin'! You know what a Pulitzer is, Uncle Nick. Don't act you don't have a clue. I'm so embarrassed I could die. I've worshipped her for years and what's the first thing I do when I get close enough to tell her how much I admire her work? I crash into her like a class-A fool.”

“Who crashed what? Did you do something to my truck?” A deep voice came from the dining room, followed by a man who looked a lot like Nick. It was his brother Paul, and the family resemblance was unmistakable. They were both tall, although Nick had about two inches on Paul. They were both light brown, although Nick was a good bit lighter. They both had curly black hair and chiseled features, but Nick had a deep cleft in his chin that Paul was lacking. And they both had gorgeous eyes, but Paul's were hazel while Nick's were green, a true, clear green that was mesmerizing, according to the many women who were attracted to him.

Paul looked from his daughter to his brother and back again, repeating his question. “Did you wreck my truck?”

“Daddy, your precious truck is in the garage. Uncle Nick was teaching me to drive his stick and I crashed into the back of this poor woman's car and now my life is ruined.”

“Oh. Did you wreck his Escalade?” Paul asked with interest.

Nick was laughing at the two of them. Paul was always so calm and grounded and his wife and oldest daughter were so dramatic it was a wonder there was ever any peace in the house, but they all managed to get along just fine. “Man, it was a little bump on the fender but the lady's taillight got broken and there's a dent in the back. Ebony's throwing a fit because it seems like the woman is some big-time writer that she has a thing for. She's acting like it's the end of the world for no reason,” he said with amusement.

Paul studied his younger brother for a moment. “She must be fine or you wouldn't be grinning like that.”

Nick tried again to look innocent. “She's attractive,” he said with a shrug.

Ebony heard her mother's voice and went to get some real sympathy, seeing that she was getting nowhere with her two favorite men. As she left the room muttering, Paul raised an eyebrow at Nick.

“Okay, man, she's fine as hell,” he admitted.

“Big girl?” Paul queried.

“Tall, thick, big juicy booty and a hot temper,” Nick answered. “And new in town. Car has D.C. plates on it.”

“You plan to see her again?”

Nick's eyes softened as he thought about how hot and sexy she'd looked, all rumpled and angry. “I surely do. And as soon as possible.”

 

At that precise moment, Dakota was standing in the living room of her newly refurbished townhouse. She was staring around the place she had expected to call home and she wasn't happy. Cha-Cha was running around their new abode emitting squeaks of discovery as she explored, but Dakota couldn't move. This wasn't the house she'd contracted for, the one for which she'd paid. This place was a mess.

There was still drywall in the kitchen, the floors hadn't been sanded and finished in the honey oak she'd specified, the countertops and glass-fronted cupboards weren't the quality she'd selected and everywhere she had looked there was evidence of shoddy workmanship. She was so angry she was past tears. She was at the point where she wanted to call her father and ask to borrow one of his hunting rifles, just for a little while. She wanted to find the sleazy developer who'd taken her for a ride and put a few bullets in him where they'd do the most good.

She jumped as her cell phone went off and then frowned deeply as she saw who the caller was. It was her brother Johnny and she had a few words for him.

“So how do you like your new home? Did Bernard do a great job or what?” he asked in a jovial voice.

“Your friend Bernard is a liar and a crook. This place is a mess and I hate it almost as much as I hate you at the moment. You told me this guy was trustworthy and reliable, which is why I went into this deal sight unseen. You told me that he was a good friend of yours as well as being your frat brother and that he'd do an excellent job. And you told me that you'd be checking in with him every time you were in Chicago on business. Well, if you were checking in with him you must have been blindfolded each and every time because anybody with an iota of common sense could see that this place is a dump,” she said hotly.

“Obviously, you never set foot in the place, which means that you lied to me. If you didn't want to be bothered with me why didn't you say so? I trusted you, which meant I trusted your sorry friend Bernard Jackson. I can't believe you got me hooked up with someone who's obviously a con artist. How could you do this to me, you…you…”

“Hold on, Dakota, hold it right there,” Johnny said hastily. “Are you trying to tell me that Bernard didn't deliver what he promised? I thought he was sending you pictures of his progress and he had a virtual tour of the house online so you could see how things were going,” he said in a puzzled voice.

“And I thought I could trust you,” she returned angrily. “It seems we were both wrong. He was sending me pictures all right, and there was a nice little virtual tour that I monitored every day. But I don't know where he got the pictures from and I sure don't know what that tour was all about because what he was showing me wasn't this dump. And if you'd done what you promised me you'd do, you would have seen it for yourself. Now the jerk won't answer my phone calls. I went to the office at the address he gave me and it's locked up. What kind of friends do you have, Johnny? And how could you get me involved with a sleazeball like him? When I think of the money I spent on this place…” Her voice finally died off from sheer exhaustion and rage, and she stopped talking because she couldn't trust herself to speak.

If she hadn't been so furious she would have realized how upset her brother was at her words, but she was way beyond listening at that point. It didn't stop Johnny from trying to explain, though.

“Dakota, I apologize, I really do. Bernard is my fraternity brother and I thought I knew him pretty well, but it wasn't like we're best friends or anything. I really was in Chicago a few times for business, and each time I came I made an appointment to see him and to take a look at your place, but every time something came up and he couldn't make it. I admit, that alone should have made me more suspicious, but I would never have expected him to pull a stunt like this. And when I get hold of his ass he'll be sorry he ever tried to mess over my sister, you can believe that.”

Dakota was fighting back angry tears and didn't bother to answer him. He continued to probe, though, asking Dakota when she had actually talked to him last, and getting more pertinent information that he hoped would lead to the man's whereabouts. “Look, Cookie,” he said comfortingly, “I'll find the buzzard if it's the last thing I do. I don't know what the hell made him think he could con my sister, but I'll take care of him, don't even worry about it.”

Hearing him use her childhood nickname almost did her in, but Dakota was no pushover. “Johnny, I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to get involved. You've done more than enough,” she said dryly. “I'm not an investigative reporter for nothing. If I can track down a killer who's been hiding out for ten years I can find a lousy, rotten no-good weasel and take care of him my damn self. I'll talk to you later, big brother, I've got to get some stuff out of the car and get settled in for the night.”

“Get settled in? You're not spending the night there are you? Why don't you go to a nice hotel until this is all sorted out? That's crazy, Cookie.”

“I have my reasons,” she replied in an icy-cold voice. “Let it go, Johnny. I can handle my business all by myself. And whatever you do,
don't
tell Daddy. The last thing I need is him coming to town with a caravan of Teamsters ready to hunt that lousy ferret down and hang him. I want him alive and well for his court date because I'm going to sue him so tough his great-grandchildren will still be paying off his debts.” She added a few colorful and profane sentiments before getting off the phone.

Cha-Cha sensed her bad mood and came to sit in her lap. Dakota continued to sit on the floor for a few minutes stroking Cha-Cha's incredible fur, sighing every so often. Then she shook off her angst and told Cha-Cha it was time to get busy. “We've got to get a few things out of the car and get something to eat,” she said as she tickled the big cat's chin. “And then we have to get our plan in order. Ol' boy picked the wrong sister to screw around with when he decided to pull this crap on me. Wherever he is, I hope he's getting a good night's sleep because it's the last one he's going to have for a long time.”

N
ick meant what he'd told his brother the day before. He intended to see Dakota again and as soon as he could arrange it. He'd called his insurance agent that afternoon and explained the situation, emphasizing that he didn't want her to have to spend a single dime on the repair of her vehicle. “She's new in town, so we need to make sure she gets the best body shop available to take care of her ride. It's a new HHR, but I don't really have that much faith in dealerships. When you talk to her company make some suggestions about repairs, okay?”

Nick's long-time agent was smiling for all she was worth on the other end of the phone. She'd known Nick for years and had never heard so much concern and caring in his voice, but all she said was “Will do, Nick. I'll make sure she gets nothing but the best.”

Satisfied that one thing on the agenda was taken care of, Nick moved to the next item. He was going to pay Miss Phillips a visit and he was even bearing flowers, something his sister-in-law had insisted on. He had to laugh when he remembered her exact words. Patsy was as sweet and Southern as she'd been the day Paul had met her some twenty years before and she demanded that the men in her family demonstrate good manners at all times. “Don't go over there empty-handed with a mouth full of gimme and a handful of much obliged. Take her a nice plant or something. It's the least you could do since you and my daughter managed to destroy her car and scare her to death.” she'd told him sternly. “And be extra nice to her because I have all her books and I want her to sign them for me.”

He was still chuckling when he turned down the street on which Dakota lived, but the mirth died away when he saw where she was living. Another B. Jackson Production, the sign read.
Oh hell, naw. How in the world did she get caught up with that crook?
He frowned deeply as he surveyed the brick town homes that lined both sides of the street. They looked fine from the outside, but if he knew anything about Bernard Jackson, he knew the interiors of the houses were shoddily put together with substandard materials and workmanship. They were pure-d crap, and every reputable builder in the state knew it. Bernard Jackson was one of Nick's main business competitors, and to say he couldn't stand the man was a masterpiece of understatement.

After a stint in the army, Nick had returned to Chicago and started his own construction company. He was a master contractor and builder, and had parlayed his expertise into a building firm with an impeccable reputation for expert work. Nick was into land development and real estate as well as residential and commercial building and he'd worked long and hard to make himself into one of the most respected men in the business. He did it by keeping every promise he ever made, by delivering every project on time and on budget and by working harder than anyone else in his company. He had nothing but contempt for men like Bernard Jackson, fast-talking con artists who won jobs by underbidding and then defrauding their clients by using cheap materials and taking shortcuts. The result was crappy houses that weren't worth a quarter of what the clients ended up paying for them.

He particularly hated Bernard because he was a good-looking guy with a snappy wardrobe and a habit of preying on lonely women who'd worked hard to save enough money to refurbish their homes, or worse yet, who'd saved for years to make their dream of home-ownership come true. Bernard was also known to pay off inspectors and appraisers, so his underhanded practices made him rich, instead of putting him in jail where he belonged. For reasons he couldn't understand, the thought of getting his hands around Bernard Jackson's neck and choking the life out of him was very compelling to Nick at the moment. How a woman who was as smart as Dakota Phillips was supposed to be had got tangled up with that lying, conniving, thieving jerk he had no idea, but there was no way Nick was letting him get away with it.

By the time he pulled up in front of Dakota's unit, he was hot as a firecracker. He glanced at Dakota's bright-red HHR with the sad rear end and made a mental note to make sure she had transportation while it was being repaired. It didn't occur to him that the body shop would see to that, he just didn't want her to be inconvenienced. He was surprised to see her sitting on the front steps when he got out of his truck. She looked rather like a little lost girl sitting there with her elbows on her knees, staring down at her bare feet. Nice, pretty feet, too, with some kind of pinkish nail polish. No corns, bunions or other unsightly things were visible, which gave him a little thrill. Nick loved a woman with sexy feet. She was sexy all over, with her long curly hair flowing loose over her shoulders. She looked up at him approaching and he was thrown off guard by her look of utter hatred.

“Who the hell are you?” she said in a distinctly unfriendly tone of voice.

Nick kept walking until he was at the foot of the stairs. “I'm Nick Hunter. Remember the truck that bumped into you yesterday?”

Dakota looked blank for a moment and then frowned even more. “Oh yeah, I remember. That was the first of three horrible things that have happened to me since I got to this wretched town. Yes, I remember your girlfriend slamming into me like I was invisible. It was a fun day,” she said drolly.

A lesser man would have dropped off the flowers and scrammed, but Nick was too tough for that. He made a motion with his free hand and she actually scooted over to make room for him to sit next to her. “I came to apologize again for my niece's part in the mishap,” he said, trying not to emphasize the word
niece.
Before she could react, he asked what the other two things were that had caused her to be upset.

“The second thing was getting here and finding my newly refurbished townhouse is a piece of junk. It's a pile of crap from top to bottom and if I ever get my hands on the so-called builder I'm not going to leave enough pieces for them to bury. I don't know how things are done in Chicago, but there are laws against fraud and misrepresentation in D.C., and when I'm through with that piece of slime he's going to be intimately acquainted with every one of them.”

She didn't raise her voice, but the calm, deadly words let him know she meant every single one. This impressed him, almost as much as her perfect complexion and her long silky eyelashes. “Well, that's two things. What's the third?”

Dakota looked at him directly for the first time, her face a mask of weary disgust. “My cat, the lovely Cha-Cha, managed to lock me out of the house. I came outside to get something out of the car and before I realized the car keys were in the house, I heard the door slam shut and a loud click, which meant that girlfriend put her big fat paw right on the lock. So I'm out here with no keys and no cell phone and she's in the house laughing at me.”

Nick stared at her for a long moment and tried hard not to laugh, but when he turned to see Cha-Cha sitting on the windowsill looking innocent, he had to. He burst into laughter and surprisingly, Dakota didn't seem to be offended. On the contrary, she shrugged. “Knock yourself out. If it was anyone else but me, I'd be laughing, too. You don't happen to have a cell phone I can use, do you?”

Nick gave her a genuine smile this time and assured her he could do better than that. “Here, these are for you. Peace offering. You don't need a phone, you need a man who knows what to do, and that happens to be me. Be right back,” he added as he got up and dusted his pants off before heading for the truck.

Dakota looked at the flowers and despite her miserable day, she smiled. They were beautiful: black-eyed Susans, purple freesias and some other blooms that were shades of pink that looked lovely with the bright yellow and purple petals. She turned to the window and waved them at her naughty cat. “Ha! I got flowers and you got nothing. Serves you right, little wench.”

She watched Nick retrieve something from his truck and was amazed that she hadn't noticed how handsome he was. Tall, with creamy skin and a body she knew was hard and muscular from their brief encounter the day before, he was a real treat for the eye, especially now that he wasn't wearing that cap and those sunglasses. All that curly hair and those green eyes, super bone structure and those perfect white teeth…if she were in the market for a man, she would have been knocked off her feet for sure. And the way he'd slipped in the information that the young beauty was his niece was real cute, but it wasn't going to get him any points. The way she was feeling towards the male of the species right now just made him an interesting specimen, nothing more. She had no more interest in him than she would in a statue. Although, when he started walking towards her again she had to admit that he reminded her of a Thomas Blackshear statue come to life—perfect features, rich coloring, undeniable sex appeal and total masculinity. She had to suppress a trembling sensation as she watched him walk. He was just a little bit bowlegged and it was incredibly sexy.
Damn him anyway,
she thought.
Damn all men. They're all critters.

Nick had returned with a tool belt and a smile. Dakota was trying to look evil, but she was too taken with the sight of his long legs in his neatly pressed jeans and his broad chest covered with a nicely fitting blue T-shirt. Besides, she was curious. “So what are the tools for?”

“I'm going to get your door open and then we're going to have a little talk with your cat. It's not safe for her to be locking you out. Chicago is a big city and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you,” he said with a sexy twinkle in his eye.

She could feel her eyes widen at his flirtatious words, but she disciplined her face to stay neutral. Ignoring his flirting, Dakota turned so she could watch him work, sniffing the fresh scent of her bouquet as he took a few small tools out of the belt and went to work. He fiddled around with a small pick, and, in minutes, the door popped open.

“That lock is worthless,” he told her. “You're going to want to replace it as soon as possible.” He opened the door and held his hand out to help her up. She took the hand he extended to her and tried to get up gracefully, but it wasn't really possible. She suddenly remembered that she was not looking her best, in a pair of gray sweats that were so old they were legitimate antiques and a tattered sweatshirt that had once belonged to her father. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She gathered what was left of her dignity and invited him in.

As they crossed the threshold, Cha-Cha leaped from her post in the window and made a dive at Nick's feet. Dakota clicked her tongue in mock disgust. “See how you are? You lock me out looking like a bag lady and then you try to put the moves on the man who rescued me. You're a real piece of work, aren't you?”

Cha-Cha ignored her and concentrated on Nick, wrapping herself around his ankles and purring loudly. “You'll have to excuse her,” Dakota told him. “She loves men, especially good-looking ones. She likes the sound of their voices or their smell or the feel of their hands or something.” As the cat sniffed Nick's feet, she began to purr loudly until Nick bent down and picked her up, something that surprised Dakota. She hadn't pegged him as a cat lover. He let Cha-Cha twine around his upper arms and nestle in his neck while she emitted a low rumbling noise interspersed with little squeaks of joy. Dakota rolled her eyes at the spectacle and looked around for something to put her flowers in.

She excused herself and went into the kitchen, only to have Nick follow her with his new girlfriend draped over his shoulder. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said as she looked around for a vase of some kind. There was nothing to be found but a bottle that had once contained mineral water. Nick surprised her again by taking the bottle from her hand and using his pocket knife to trim off the narrow top of the bottle, leaving an unorthodox but effective vase. She took it from him and looked at it. “Thanks again. That was a good idea,” she said with a smile. She turned the water on to fill the impromptu container and jumped when a loud rattling sound came out of the tap, followed by a bang and a gush of nasty-looking brown water. “Well, that's just the cherry on the cake of my day. What else can go wrong with the Amityville horror?”

“You need to have your pipes bled. Whoever put them in should have done that before you moved in,” Nick said.

“If I ever meet him, I'll be sure to mention that, right before I blow a hole in his butt,” she retorted. Cha-Cha appeared to have changed camps because she looked at Dakota with disinterest before giving Nick's ear a contented little lick.

“You never met your contractor? How did that happen?”

“It's a long, stupid and pathetic story and I'm sure you don't have time to listen to it,” she muttered as she looked again at the drywall, the crummy workmanship on the counters and the cheap cabinet fronts. Something occurred to her and she turned her eyes to Nick's. “By the way, what are you doing here anyway? You didn't just run by to pick my lock, so I'm guessing you have another reason for being here.”

“Yeah, I do. Or I did. Let me take a look around here for a minute and then we'll talk.”

Before Dakota could say another word, he left the kitchen with Cha-Cha clinging to his shoulder. In a few minutes he had toured the whole place, stopping in her bedroom and shaking his head. There was her unmade air mattress, a small lamp, a clock radio and her suitcase, opened to reveal some very pretty and colorful underwear. He stopped walking, causing Dakota, who was right on his heels, to bump into his back. “You spent the night here? You slept on the floor of this place all by yourself?”