Big Easy Temptation (13 page)

“Of course she does. I told her. She’s my mother, not some dried-up prude. Dax, I’m
not married. I have a healthy sex drive. Well, I have a raging sex drive and I like
it that way.”

“Just like dear old dad.” The words came out in a bitter huff. He hadn’t meant to
say them out loud.

“Whoa, I can’t believe she told you about that.”

“You knew?” He shook his head.

“I figured it out a long time ago. I was here more than you were.” Gus hadn’t gone
to boarding school. She’d put her foot down and told their parents she wanted to stay
home, so she’d attended a nice private day school instead.

Sometimes he’d envied his sister. Mostly in the beginning because after he’d found
his friends, he’d been happy to go back to Creighton every term.

“What gave Dad’s cheating away?” he asked.

“Dad would come home on leave and sometimes he and Mom would fight. He started sleeping
in his office more often than not. Oh, he would tell me it was because he was working.
That’s how I got used to bringing him his coffee there when I was home.” Her jaw tightened
and there was no way she wasn’t remembering that last morning she’d brought their
father his coffee.

“Did you know about the woman who wrote Mom?”

“After the fact,” Gus explained. “She told me later about that. And obviously we talked
after Dad died.”

“But no one thought to mention it to me?”

“Mom didn’t want you to think poorly of Dad. You worshipped
him . . . and you can be a little judgmental, as proven by your very dicklike actions
this morning. You really think I’m like Dad? You think that because I like sex I’m
hurting everyone around me?”

He turned to her, reaching for her hand. “No, you’re not hurting anyone. I’m being
a dick, Gus. I’m sorry. I kind of got gut punched. I know what you’re doing with Mad.
I’ve just seen how he can treat women.”

She raised a pale brow. “Quite well. I like Mad because he gives a damn about what
a woman wants in bed. He has a reputation as a playboy, but he never lies about it.
He’s up-front about what he wants and what he’s willing to give. All of your friends
are. It’s what I like about them.”

“All of them?”

She didn’t even blush, simply reached over and poured him another drink. “Not all.
Connor turned me down because he couldn’t sleep with his best friend’s sister. He’s
a good egg. Do you have any idea how hard it was for a seventeen-year-old boy to turn
all of this down?” She gestured vaguely toward her curves. “Gabe is too lean for me.
Roman was fun. I actually liked him. We hooked up but that was a lifetime ago.”

“Not Zack, though.” Dax willed it to be true. “Definitely not Zack.”

“How do you think he got the nickname Scooter?”

“Oh, god.” He dropped his face in his hands. “So many things have gone wrong today.”

“Fine, not Zack. I was joking about that. He earned that nickname with a friend of
mine, but I did hear about the incident.” She stared, her intelligent eyes boring
into him. “Does it make you think differently of me? I’ve had about as many sexual
partners as you. Why is it all right for you but not me?”

“Because you’re my sister.”

“Will you hate Dad now? Because he was your father and the people in your life aren’t
allowed to be human?”

Dax felt tears stinging his eyes and fought not to shed the damn
things. He hated seeing himself through his sister’s eyes. Maybe his mother had been
right to keep the truth from him. He’d been viewing the world in black and white.
A man was either a hero or a villain. Why could he be tolerant of his friends’ foibles
but not his father’s? “I came back to clear his name.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I work with Roman and I’m ridiculously good at eavesdropping. Also, I’m good at spying.
Mad sleeps like a log. I got out of bed last night and couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d
peruse some of the porn on his laptop but I found the files. Then he and Gabe were
talking earlier this morning. I think they’ve found a couple of things they want to
share with you.”

His sister was kind of an evil genius. And she was the only person he could really
talk to about this. And she was the one person in the world besides himself who knew
what it meant to be Admiral Harold Spencer’s kid. “Should I give the investigation
up? Am I just hurting Mom more?”

Gus leaned forward, her stare serious. “Do you think he deserves less because he cheated?
I don’t love him less, Dax. I was angry for a while. Still am. But he was my father.
He loved us. He sacrificed for us. Whatever he was like as a husband, he was a good
dad. I can’t let his mistakes take that from me.”

Dax squeezed her hand, emotion rolling through him. He remembered all the times his
father had shown up at Creighton unannounced. He would get some leave and drag the
family up to spend a single afternoon, taking Dax and his friends out to lunch, to
the movies. He would say he missed his boy.

His boy. He’d been his father’s son. What did he owe his dad? His father had obviously
hurt his mom terribly, but did that negate everything else in his life? His mother
hadn’t wanted a rift between them.

“Do you think he raped that girl?” It didn’t matter that the sex might have been consensual.
Legally, the girl wasn’t old enough to consent. It was still rape.

“No, I do not.” His sister stood and walked to the railing, her shoulders straight.
“I don’t believe he’s the man who appears on that video. I know it looked like him,
but the camera never captured his face. Mom says he was into younger women. So I did
some digging of my own after he was murdered. None of his mistresses—and let me be
plain, I could only find three—not a one of them was under thirty-five.”

Then why had his dad suddenly chosen fifteen-year-old Amber Taylor? Unless, like Gus
suspected, his father hadn’t actually been the man on that footage.

“Our mother has a skewed perspective about age,” Gus went on. “I know why and I’m
not going to correct her. She’s entitled to what she believes, but I know the truth.
Dad got lonely. I’m not saying it was Mom’s fault, but there are always, always two
points of view, two sides to any relationship. I know she threw herself into being
a mom after she had us.” Gus let out a long breath. “Each of those three women looked
like her.”

Tears rolled down his sister’s golden cheeks. Damn, he hated to see Gus crying. He
hated even more that he’d been the one to upset her.

Dax stood and wrapped his arms around his older sister. She was larger than life and
so strong willed that sometimes he forgot she was fragile, too.

“I’m sorry. And I apologize for what I said earlier. You aren’t like Dad. Hell, I
don’t even know what to think anymore. I only know I don’t believe the reports. I
think NCIS covered something up or they missed key facts.”

“No matter what he did, he was our dad. Dax, we can’t let this stand. I need to help
you. We need to find out who killed him because the father I knew would never commit
suicide. Ever. He simply wouldn’t have done it.” She turned and cried against his
shoulder.

He heard someone moving behind them. The curtains fluttered and Mad emerged, his face
red from his fight with the voluminous fabric. “Damn it. I knew it was hiding something.
Fucking curtains. Hey. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Gus lifted her head and sniffled. “Of course you did, Mad. Interrupting is what you
do best.”

“That’s not what you said last . . . Never mind.” Mad knew better than to finish that
sentence.

His sister held on to him even as she rolled her eyes. “Give it a rest, Mad.”

His sister could handle his crazy, lovably douchy friend. She would take what Mad
had to offer without needing more. He had to admit, Gus was a woman who knew what
she wanted and at this point, she wanted to have fun.

One day some guy would set Gus’s world on its ear, and he was really looking forward
to that day. But for now, he could have fun, too.

“Hey, sis, who’s better in bed? Mad or Roman? You see, I’ve always heard women say
Mad was a little immature. I wondered if that wasn’t referring to his . . . technique.”

Mad scowled, his face turning beet red. “That is so untrue. In the old days, that
would lead to a duel, sir. In fact, I think it should now. You have impugned my manhood.
My dick is like the Energizer Bunny. Except more manly. And bigger. And without ears.
The point is, I got stamina. And technique.”

Gus snorted and shook her head. “I’ll never tell. Well, not until I need the cash
and then I’ve got notes for a book that will shock everyone. I’m going to get some
breakfast. I seem to have worked up an appetite. Ta-ta, dearies.”

Mad pointed her way. “See. She worked up an appetite because I’m awesome.”

And humble. Dax hauled back and punched him right on the nose. Not enough to actually
break the fucker, but Mad would feel it for a while.

“Shit!” Mad hunched over, covering his nose. His shoulders shook, but he stood up
again and started laughing. “Okay. I probably deserved that.”

The burst of anger had left Dax’s system. He still had unresolved
feelings but none of that was Mad’s fault—or anyone else’s. “Just keep it to yourself.
I don’t want to hear you bragging about bagging my sister.”

Mad shook his head. “Never. Ever. Seriously, I’m more scared of Gus than I am you.
She’s mean. Like seriously mean. And I won’t see her anymore if it really bugs you.
I like Gus. There’s nothing serious there, but she’s cool.”

“That’s Gus’s business,” Dax allowed. He looked down, but suddenly he didn’t need
the Scotch anymore. “And I think I’ll join her for breakfast. I worked up an appetite,
too.”

“So you bagged NCIS last night. Nice.”

“I’m going to punch you again.”

“Let me rephrase. I’m very happy that you were finally able to profess all your man
feelings to the lovely and proper NCIS special agent in a physical fashion. Should
I have brought glitter so we could throw it around and show the world how happy and
shiny you are now?”

“Fuck you, Mad.” But he said it with a laugh.

“I’m really happy for you, man. We’re going to lose you the way we lost . . .” Mad
frowned suddenly. “Sorry. I was going to say Zack. It’s hard to believe Joy is dead.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how Zack deals with it.” If he lost Holland . . .

“Zack buries himself in work. He works from the minute he gets up until way past time
any sane person would go to bed. I’m worried about him.”

“Really?”

“What? I can worry. I know I’m an irresponsible party boy, but I care about my friends.
You guys . . . you’re my real family. My parents didn’t give a shit. I felt more comfortable
here and at Gabe’s penthouse than I ever did at home. I’m living in the place where
my dad kept his mistresses. I can redo the fucker all I like, but it’s not home. This
is a real home. No matter what your dad did, at least he gave you love inside these
four walls.”

“You were listening?”

“It was hard to avoid overhearing as I was being slowly digested by three hundred
pounds of brocade. I think you’re doing the right thing. Gabe and I have been looking
into it. Well, Gabe has been looking into it while I play solitaire, but he’s certain
something’s going on. Do you ever find it odd that Joy died and your father was killed
six weeks later?”

“Joy was killed by someone who was trying to assassinate Zack. I don’t see the connection.”

“That’s the funny thing about connections, isn’t it? You don’t always see them at
first. I just have to wonder what the odds are that you and Zack would lose immediate
family so close together.” Mad shook his head as if clearing it. “But don’t listen
to me. My brain is twelve kinds of fucked-up at this time of the morning. Come on.
Let’s eat something. Gabe uncovered some stuff about the investigation. He’s got some
leads we can follow.”

“Sure. I think my drinking is done for now.”

Mad waggled his brows and picked up the Scotch. “Thank god. I thought you would drink
it all. Come to Papa. And don’t sweat the stuff with your dad. God knows mine was
far worse. I shudder to think of all the damage that man did. It’s certainly not my
place to clean it all up. But I will help with yours.” Mad frowned as he stared at
the gaping doors. “Don’t let the curtains kill me this time.”

Dax followed Mad in. No matter what happened, he had his family. And Holland. She
belonged to him now. Just because his parents had struggled didn’t mean he and Holland
would. They would be honest and open with each other. They would not make the same
mistakes.

No way. No
how.

H
olland swept her finger across the screen to accept the call. Dax. Her guy. She was
becoming that chick who grinned way too much and lost IQ points when her boyfriend
walked into a room. Even her coworkers had started to rib her about it. She was more
relaxed, definitely happier, and all because she had Captain Awesome in her bed—not
to mention on her couch and over the dining room table. Over the last few weeks they’d
pretty much made love on every surface of her apartment. And the night they’d had
dinner at his mother’s place, he’d snuck her up into his old bedroom for a quickie.
Not that they’d fooled anyone. His friends and Gus had been relentless in their teasing.
And Judith Spencer had simply smiled and patted Holland’s hand and told her how happy
she was.

“Hey, you,” she said into her phone, leaning against her car. She didn’t drive often
when she was in the city, but the streetcars didn’t run out this far. She wouldn’t
have taken one even if it did since she was standing in front of a prison.

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you make it all right?” Dax’s deep voice
resounded over the line, every drawled syllable a reminder of the man’s slow, Southern
sensuality.

All she had to do was hear his voice and she shivered on the inside. “I’m here. My
appointment is in a half hour. I’m going to talk to the prison officials first. It’s
strictly a courtesy. They’re used to dealing with locals. My team doesn’t come out
this way often.”

Most of the prisons she dealt with were military.

“I wish you would wait until I can be there with you.”

They’d been over this more than once. “Dax, if you’d come along, I’d have to explain
why. It’s easier this way, and if anyone dangerous really is watching us, it will
look much less suspicious.”

Not that anything frightening or out of the ordinary had happened since the asshole
on the bike. But something about this case was starting to give her a bad feeling.

“I’m the one who brought you the lead,” Dax argued.

“No, Gabe did. You don’t see him here with me.” She sighed. “Babe, I explained all
of this. It’s one of those times I should go in alone. Besides, aren’t you working
today?”

There was a lull on his end of the line. “Yes. Apparently they’re serious about getting
this manual done, and soon. They want the new protocols in place in the next couple
of weeks. Courtney is working her butt off, but there’s only so much she can do without
me.”

Courtney likely stared at his butt most of the day. Jealously flared, but she tamped
it down. He had a really amazing backside. She would have stared at it, too.

“I understand. You’ve already done your part. Your guys found Amber Taylor’s mom.
This woman’s used so many aliases I’m not surprised we couldn’t find her. Connor has
connections most law enforcement would pay a lot for. So relax and let me handle this.
Did Gabe and Mad get off okay?”

“Mad surely did. My sister made sure of that,” he said grumpily.

Holland smothered a laugh. The last couple of weeks had been a
revelation. Dax had spent every night at her place with the excuse that he didn’t
want to hear his sister and Mad Crawford going at it. Holland kind of thought he just
liked sleeping beside her. He’d practically moved in. She didn’t see him leaving because
his friends had gotten on a plane to New York. “I’m glad he enjoyed his stay. I’m
sure he made Gus’s pleasant as well.”

“I’m joking about Gus. She leaves for D.C. tomorrow, and I’m going to miss her.” He
cleared his throat. She’d learned he did that a lot when he got emotional. “Anyway,
I hope this means we have enough to really reopen the case.”

She didn’t want to give him false hope, but she was feeling optimistic. “I’m asking
for the complete files. I’m going to tell my boss what I’m doing and why. Even though
I can’t make it official, I think I have enough to put some of the team’s resources
into it. My boss liked your father quite a bit. I think he’ll be open to a discussion.
If I get NCIS involved again, I should be able to request access to your father’s
former aide. He’s the one I really want to talk to.”

“But naturally he’s on assignment and his whereabouts are classified,” Dax said with
a cynical bite to his tone.

Naturally. Everywhere they turned they encountered another roadblock or another detour
that led to nowhere. “I think I can talk them into it if all goes well today. Especially
when I show them the money trail Connor and Gabe found.”

Once they’d located Amber Taylor’s mother, finding her financial information had been
simple. She’d never actually been married to Amber’s father, though Sue Carlyle used
his surname as an alias for years. The woman was a known con artist and roughly three
days before her daughter had been caught with the admiral on tape, Sue Carlyle deposited
five thousand dollars in cash to her bank account.

Holland wanted to know where that money had come from.

“Be careful,” Dax said over the line.

“I will. Hey, it’s a prison. I’m fairly safe here.” She glanced up at the
dour-looking building in front of her. It was a medium-security women’s facility.
Unlike the land around it, it was gray and gloomy. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll be late, but I’ll pick us up some supper. Bye, sweetheart.”

She hung up with a sigh and turned to the task at hand. She might be able to give
him the testimony or peace of mind he needed. They’d stayed up a few nights earlier
making love and talking. He’d told her what he’d learned about his father. Clearly,
Dax was hurt, and if she could be a balm to that ache, she would. Finding out his
father hadn’t been a pedophile would definitely help ease his heavy heart.

Gathering herself, Holland entered the prison. Half an hour later, she found herself
in a small interrogation room used for interviews with law enforcement and attorneys.
Nothing of interest lay inside the room. Like everything about the prison, it looked
stark and seemingly hopeless. The table was stainless steel, the chairs bolted to
the floor. A two-way mirror lined the back, but she didn’t see why anyone would use
it on her. She’d explained she was simply following up with a potential witness on
a cold case.

The door opened and a slight woman entered, hauled in by a burly guard. Sue Carlyle’s
face was the after photo on a poster of why not to try meth. Lined and wrinkled, cheeks
sagging, she had aged far beyond her forty-eight years. The few teeth she had were
black. According to the information Holland had obtained, this woman hadn’t lived
an easy life. But what the hell had happened to her in the months since her daughter
had become the center of a huge case?

“You going to be all right?” the guard asked Holland.

Sue shook almost uncontrollably as she sat.

Yes, she could handle the drug addict. She looked like she weighed all of ninety pounds.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

The door closed and she was left with one of the only people alive who could tell
her anything about what had happened the night Admiral Spencer had fallen from grace.

“They said you wanted to see me. What’s this about?” Her gaze
didn’t meet Holland’s but darted around as though scanning furiously for some kind
of threat.

“I need to talk to you about your daughter.”

“She’s gone. Ain’t coming back. Ain’t none of us coming back.”

“She ran away from home.”

A snort came out of Sue’s mouth. “Sure. She ran away. Is that what you want? I already
told everyone she ran.”

“Who did you tell?”

“Everyone I was supposed to, damn it. I’m tired of this shit. You got everything you
wanted. Everything! But you keep sending in people to make sure you get more.”

A chill cut through Holland, clear to her bones. “Ms. Carlyle, I’m not who you think
I am. I’m here to help you. I want to help find your daughter.”

A brittle laugh erupted from her chest, and she coughed as though the action hurt
her in some way. “Bastards. You can’t find my daughter. Unless you remember where
you buried her.”

Sue’s words shocked her. Holland leaned in. “You believe your daughter is dead?”

“I know it. Am I not supposed to say that, either? Is this some kind of test? I’m
tired of you people fucking with me. I did what you asked. I took the money, and you
know what? It wasn’t enough. Not even close. Do you know what that girl was worth?
She could have worked and made more than that measly five thousand.”

Holland froze. She and the woman were having a definite misunderstanding and she wasn’t
exactly sure how to calm Amber’s mother down enough to get a coherent story. Holland
had to talk her off the ledge, convince Sue she was here to help, and hope she didn’t
clam up.

“You took the money,” Holland reminded in a cold, factual tone. “You could have negotiated
for more.”

Sue’s eyes narrowed before she shook her head and looked away. “I’m not talking anymore,
especially to your kind. I saw what you people did to my girl. My baby. She did you
a favor.”

A favor?
Holland went with her gut on this hunch. “Yes, she set up the admiral nicely.”

“Don’t know nothing about that.” Sue’s lips formed a grim line. “Nothing at all. All
I know now is my girl’s gone and you people sent me here.”

How did she get Sue to explain who “you people” were?

“Perhaps we could also get you out of here if you cooperate with us.”

“I don’t do nothing but cooperate.”

Holland knew she was walking a thin line now. She tried to sound as reasonable and
non-threatening as possible. “I’m trying to clean up a few issues within the organization
I work for. Some overly enthusiastic associates worked the front end of this operation.
I need to make sure I have all the facts. Who was your contact?”

Sue stared blankly for a moment before her eyes came back into focus. Then she shook
her head. “I ain’t saying nothing. I ain’t got no contact.” Tears started running
down her face. “I hate you Russians. I hate you all.”

Russians?
“I’m going to have to insist that we have this debrief, Carlyle. My boss wants to
know all the facts before he makes a decision.”

“About what?”

“About whether or not to help you get out of this prison.” Guilt twisted her gut,
but she had to have the information. “Who was your contact?”

Her gaze glazed over. “What does it matter now? I hate you all for what you did to
my girl. Especially the Navy man. I hate that fucking Navy man.”

“The admiral?”

“Short little shit. Hate him.” Suddenly, she pounded her fists on the table. “Hate
you all!”

She screamed then, a sound that seemed to come from deep in her soul. Then she burst
into tears.

The door flew open and the guard hurried in. Sue Carlyle struggled, her eyes wild
as she spewed curses, looking both angry and terrified.

The guard had her cuffed in record time. “Look who gets to visit the SHU. You’re a
regular guest there, Carlyle.” The guard looked up. “Sorry. She’s very unstable. I
hope you got what you wanted because she’ll be like this for days.”

A female guard came in and hauled the prisoner out.

“What’s wrong with her? Besides the obvious?”

The guard frowned. They could hear Carlyle shouting all the way down the hall. “She’s
delusional. Likely due to the insane amount of drugs she’s done. She’s here for dealing,
but that woman was way too interested in her own product.”

So her brain had been damaged because she’d done too much meth. Paranoia was one of
the by-products of the drug. “Does she talk much?”

“Oh, Carlyle likes to tell anyone and everyone who will listen about how some Russian
guy killed her baby girl and he’s coming for her, too. I don’t suppose you represent
the Russian mob? Because that’s who she’s blaming.”

Holland managed a little laugh, but she was already thinking.

As she exited the prison, she was still ruminating on her bizarre conversation with
Sue Carlyle and the implications. The woman wasn’t a good witness, and most lawyers
would say that anything she’d uttered was unreliable and inadmissible in court. Holland
sighed. It was unlikely her boss would reopen the admiral’s case based on the ramblings
of an obviously insane woman. So she needed to figure out where that money had come
from and why Sue thought the Russian mob was after her.

Had the admiral’s death been the result of a shakedown gone wrong? Had the plan been
to blackmail him? Control him by dangling his indiscretions in his face? If so, why
would Russians have targeted him, of all people? And how would a Navy man be involved?
Sue couldn’t have been talking about the admiral. She’d called him a short shit. Admiral
Spencer had been somewhere around six foot two.

None of this made sense. Then again, neither had Sue. Holland
frowned. Maybe she was putting too much stock in the woman’s drug-riddled words.

She pulled out her keys but stopped short of her vehicle because someone stood, blocking
her car door.