Cover Me (8 page)

Chapter Two

Shock and disbelief slammed into Mack. He couldn’t believe Lily was alive.

His hand trembled as he wiped sweat from his brow. Why had her father told him she was dead?

Bile rose to his throat.

First Landry had him thrown in jail on false charges, then he must have been furious when Mack survived the flooding prison.

And when he’d come looking for
Lily—hell. He’d probably figured telling him Lily was dead would be the end of him.

And it nearly had been. He’d sulked away to grieve just as Landry had predicted.

God. What about the baby? Had he survived?

Did he have a son?

He balled his hands into fists. Did Lily know he’d made it out of that jail?

Was she aware her father might be stealing money from the funds they’d
raised to help the city?

Too agitated to stand still, he began to pace. Rainwater squished between his shoes, the sounds of Bourbon Street fading as his anger took root.

Dammit. He wanted to nail Landry.

But first, he’d watch Lily. If she’d known he was alive, why hadn’t she tried to find him?

* * *

L
ILY
SENSED
SOMEONE
watching her from the veranda and scanned the street
below. A figure moved to the right and ducked into a bar, and she chided herself for being paranoid.

Ever since she’d moved back to New Orleans, she’d seen Mack in the shadows, Mack in the streets, Mack waiting on her at their favorite coffee shop with a latte.

But Mack was gone.

The jail where he was had flooded. Some of the prisoners had escaped, and although Mack’s body hadn’t
been recovered, the fact that he hadn’t come looking for her made her certain he’d died in the floods.

She turned to her father. “I’m tired, Dad. I’m going to take a cab home. I’ll pick up Winston in the morning.”

Her father frowned. “I thought you might spend the night tonight.”

How could she explain to him that she needed to be alone? “Maybe next time.” She went to say good-night
to the mayor. Piano music played softly in the background, champagne floated freely through the room.

Mayor Barrow squeezed her hand. “Thank you for all you’re doing for our city. The fundraisers you’ve organized have raised hundreds of thousands of dollars already.”

“I just want everyone who lost their homes to have one again.”

He nodded, and she said good-night to the investors.
Then she retrieved her wrap and headed down the stairs. The maître d’ called her a cab, and within minutes, she was slipping inside her house on Saint Charles Street.

Darkness bathed the inside, and she reached for the lamp, but suddenly someone grabbed her from behind.

She tried to scream, but he shoved a hand over her mouth and pushed her toward the den.

“I’m not going to hurt
you,” he murmured in her ear.

His voice sounded vaguely familiar, yet fear seized her. If he wasn’t going to hurt her, why had he broken in?

Prepared to offer him her purse and whatever else he wanted in the house, she nodded against his hand.

He eased her toward the sofa, then flipped on the lamp, and she spun around, ready to tangle.

But her heart stalled in her chest. Her
attacker was Mack Rivet.

Her former lover and husband. And the father of her son.

* * *

M
ACK
’
S
HEART
POUNDED
so hard that he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. He thought he’d lost Lily years ago, and now here she was alive, in the flesh.

And looking like a knockout in that skintight black sheath.

Just touching her stirred a deep ache in his soul.

And in his
groin.

Her long blond hair was captured in a chignon with jewel combs holding the silky strands in place.

A reminder that her father had money and that she was too good for him.

Still, it hadn’t stopped him from wanting her—and having her—eight years ago.

It wouldn’t stop him now.

“Oh, my God,” Lily said in a choked whisper. “I thought...you died in the flood.”

“No.”
Mack narrowed his eyes at her. “But I thought you were dead.”

Emotions flickered in her eyes. “You looked for me?”

“Of course I did,” he said with a muttered curse. “Dammit, I loved you, Lily. You were pregnant with my son.”

Lily paled. “I don’t understand. It’s been years.”

“I know it has,” he said sharply.

She raised her gaze to his, those damn emerald eyes drawing him
in. “Father said he checked the listings and a guard said you died.”

Anger gnawed at Mack. Landry had lied to both of them.

Which made him even more certain that he was aiding the mayor in his scheme.

“Why did you wait eight years to come to me?” she asked.

Mack’s defenses rose as she turned the tables on him. “I did look for you, for months,” he said, his heart in his throat.
“I kept checking the lists, the police departments and hospitals, and I called your father, but he told me you didn’t make it.”

Lily gasped and sank onto the sofa. “What... No...” She knotted her hands in her lap. “Why would my father say that?”

“You tell me.” Mack gritted his teeth as he realized her father had gotten what he’d wanted—he’d torn them apart.

Denial flickered in her
eyes. “It has to be a mistake. Maybe he checked and couldn’t find out anything about you so he made up that story.”

“He spoke to me, so he knew I was alive. And he told me that you were gone, and obviously he knew you weren’t,” Mack said.

Lily frowned. “You were watching me tonight?”

“I was watching your father and the mayor,” Mack said. “Then I saw you on the veranda and was shocked
to discover you’d survived.”

Lily dropped her head into her hands.

His chest squeezed. For the life of him, he wanted to believe that she had no part in her father’s or Barrow’s illegal actions.

But dammit, she had believed the worst of him. That still hurt.

“Where have you been?” she asked in a pained whisper.

“Living in the bayou, helping other folks find missing loved
ones. Trying to find evidence to clear my name from those bogus arrest charges.” He didn’t tell her that he suspected her father had set him up.

“The charges you believed, Lily.”

Lily began to pull the combs from her hair as if she needed to do something with her hands. The silky strands fell around her shoulders, and she finger combed them, making his hands ache to do the same.

“That was because Lee Barnaby showed me proof,” Lily said, her voice rising an octave. “He had documents, evidence that you were taking bribes and selling drugs.”

Memories bombarded him. That night he’d been waiting on her call, worried she might go into labor.

Instead Lee Barnaby had slapped handcuffs on him and ruined his life.

“I know what you saw, Lily, but Barnaby fabricated
all that evidence.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You know what happened to my father, how I grew up. I would never take a bribe or sell drugs.”

Lily shot up from her seat. “What about that photo of you with your girlfriend, Mack? That looked pretty real to me.”

“My girlfriend? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Angelica, the woman with the sultry body and chocolate eyes,”
Lily said. “I believe you call her Angel.”

Another shock wave rolled through Mack. “Good God, Lily, you can’t believe that I was cheating on you.”

Her beautiful pouty lips formed a frown. “He showed me pictures of you with her, Mack. The two of you cozy in a dark bar, in an alley, in a car.”

Mack hissed between his teeth. “Angelica was not my girlfriend. She was my C.I.”

Lily
stared at him, the tension stretching between them, war raging in her eyes.

“I was working undercover with a federal agent named Ray Storm. He had evidence against Barnaby that would have put him away for corruption and drug trafficking. Two years before that, I arrested Angelica for dealing. She was an addict, but I persuaded her to slip me information.” He scraped a hand over his chin.
“If we looked cozy, it was part of my undercover work, Lily. I swear it.”

Lily’s lower lip trembled. “You...really weren’t with her?”

“Never,” Mack said emphatically. “I loved you. And I did not accept any bribes.”

“Oh God, Mack,” Lily whispered. “I can’t believe my father lied to me and that Barnaby set you up.”

“His arrest should validate my story,” Mack said. Although, getting
Barnaby was only the beginning. There were others on the take, bigger fish to fry.

For the first time since he’d entered the place, Mack’s gaze scanned the room. A second later, he saw what he was searching for. A photograph on the built-in bookshelves by the fireplace.

A photo of a little boy who looked so much like him that his throat swelled.

He picked it up, his heart pounding.
The little boy had dark black hair like his, the same stubborn jaw and intense brown eyes. And that cowlick. Damn, he even had his cowlick.

Another photo of the boy caught his eye, this one with Landry at Christmas.

Anger at all the time he’d missed choked him. “Where is he? What’s his name?”

Tears glittered on Lily’s eyelashes. “Winston Mack Rivet. He’s spending the night at my
father’s.”

So she had named their son after him.

“I have to see him,” he said, heading toward the door. “I’ve missed eight years of his life.”

Lily ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Wait, Mack, you can’t, not tonight.”

He swung toward her, his jaw clamped tight. “Dammit, Lily, I thought you two were dead. I...thought I’d lost you, but you were both alive all along.”

“I’m sorry, Mack.” Lily’s voice cracked. “I...I’m so sorry.”

Mack was trembling. “What did you tell him about me?”

Lily blinked back more tears. “Just what I thought, that you died in the storm.”

“Well, I’m not dead,” he said. “And I want to see my son.”

“You will,” Lily said. “But he’s sleeping now, Mack. We can’t wake him up. Let’s wait until the right time.”

When would
the right time be?

When he cleared his name? When he arrested Lily’s father?

Dammit, he had to find out the truth, but if he had to arrest her father, Lily would hate him.

And so might his son.

Chapter Three

Mack reined in his temper. She was right. It would be a shock for Winston to learn his father was alive. No use doing it in the middle of the night. “How about in the morning? I’ll go with you to pick him up at your father’s.”

Lily rubbed her arms, her face panicked. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Mack. Especially considering the trouble between you and
my father.”

“He lied to us both,” Mack said. “He owes us an explanation.”

Lily flinched. “I’m sorry, Mack.”

“Stop apologizing for him,” Mack said. “It’s your father who should be sorry. He never wanted us to be together, and by lying he got his wish.”

“Mack—”

“It’s true and you know it.” Mack inhaled a calming breath, questions bombarding him. “What happened that night,
Lily? Where have you and Winston been all these years?” God, was she involved with someone else?

Lily sighed. “The night of the storm, I went into labor. Daddy’s friend flew me to Alabama in his helicopter before the worst hit. I gave birth to Winston that night, and we lived there until a couple of months ago.” She rubbed a hand over her mouth, drawing him to those damned kissable lips.
“Meanwhile, Dad was working with Mayor Barrow on the rebuilding campaign, and he convinced me to move back and help.”

Mack gestured to the house. “But you didn’t move in with him?”

Lily smiled sardonically. “No, I wanted to be queen of my own castle.”

Mack nodded. “You always did like having your own space.” And she had stood up to her father. At one time, he’d even wondered if
she’d dated him as an act of rebellion.

Still, rebelling and helping him get dirt on her father were two different things.

“What time are you going to your father’s house in the morning?”

Lily chewed her bottom lip. “Eight. I want to have breakfast with Winston.”

Eight o’clock sounded like decades away. But he didn’t want to frighten his son by storming in and attacking Landry.

Which was exactly what he might do if he saw him tonight.

“Mack?”

“Breakfast with our son sounds good.” He paused. “And, Lily, don’t tell your father I’m coming.”

Her eyes darkened with worry, but she gave a short nod, and he left before he dragged her into his arms and reminded her that she was his wife.

But he couldn’t push her.

Because he was afraid of what he might
find—that she’d moved on without him.

He couldn’t tell her that he was investigating her father, either. Not until he was sure about his facts.

He climbed into his Range Rover and started the engine. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Melvin Landry’s face when he realized he’d been caught in his lies.

And when he discovered that Mack was back in their lives.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
Lily was ready to go by seven. She hadn’t slept a wink for thinking about Mack. She opened her jewelry drawer, removed her wedding ring and rubbed her fingers over the silver band.

Mack had apologized for not giving her diamonds, but she hadn’t cared. She’d been so in love with him she could barely breathe. She’d had diamonds from her father; she’d wanted romance and excitement
from Mack. She’d thought his undercover work risky but had thrived on living on the wild side.

Now that she had a child, Lily wasn’t sure she wanted to take those risks again. Or to worry about whether Mack would come home at night. Or if some dangerous criminal might attack her or Winston to get revenge against him.

For eight years, she’d grieved for him, had told Winston stories about
how tough his father had been. That he’d saved lives and protected innocents.

Even though she’d wondered about the charges against him.

And now here he was alive, claiming he’d been framed, and he wanted to meet his son.

Why had her father lied to her? And why had he told Mack she was dead?

Because Mack was right. Her father had never wanted them to be together.

Fresh
tears blurred her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had to rely on her anger this morning to face her father.

A knock sounded on the door, and she checked the peephole. Just as she’d expected, Mack stood on the stoop. A sight she’d craved for so long that her knees nearly buckled.

Last night he’d looked like a renegade, his hair shaggy, his beard a few days old and his clothes wrinkled,
as if he’d slept in them for days.

Today he looked freshly shaven, his hair trimmed, and he wore clean jeans and a white collared shirt.

Her body hummed with arousal. Part of her wanted to haul him to bed and remind him how much she’d loved him.

But she had to think of her son. Technically Mack still needed to clear his name.

Her palms were sweating as she opened the door.
Mack shifted, looking nervous. That small display made her heart throb with affection.

And anger at her dad for keeping them apart. Winston deserved to know his father.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’ll drive my car, though. I’ll need it later.”

Mack frowned but agreed, and he followed her to her father’s estate. They walked to the door together, the mood tense as
Lily rang the doorbell.

Anita answered. “Why, Miss Lily, what are you doing knocking?”

Lily gestured toward Mack. “I brought someone with me. I thought it might be best. Would you tell Daddy to meet me in the study?”

Anita nodded. “Of course, dear.” Anita escorted them to her father’s office and gestured toward the coffeepot. “Help yourselves.”

“Where’s Winston?” Lily asked.

“At the batting cage. Do you want me to get him?”

“Not yet. Just tell Daddy I’m here.”

Anita nodded then disappeared, and Mack released a pent-up breath.

Lily wondered how she would feel if she was in his shoes. Eight long years of thinking his son had died and Mack was about to meet him.

Mack drummed his fingers on her father’s desk. “A batting cage?”

“Dad had one
built for Winston last year when he joined the school baseball team.”

Another event Mack had missed.

She wanted to hear her father’s reason for lying.

And she didn’t intend to let him off the hook until she got some answers.

* * *

D
AMMIT
. M
ACK
HAD
ALREADY
missed so much of his son’s life. And Landry was obviously buying his son with batting cages and no telling what other
kinds of expensive gifts that he couldn’t afford on a cop’s salary.

Hell, he didn’t even have a steady income now.

Lily fidgeted while he studied the photos on the wall. Winston when he was a baby in a red wagon. Winston at one of the Mardi Gras parades. Winston with Landry at a Saints game.

Once again, the ache of what he’d missed gnawed at his insides. If Landry hadn’t lied to
him, that would have been a photograph of him and his son at the game.

The opposite wall held pictures of Landry with Barnaby and the mayor. Another one of Landry with Martin Hennessey, a former real-estate mogul, now a gubernatorial candidate. There were also framed newspaper stories of Landry’s personal contributions to the building fund as well as elaborate fundraisers and parties he’d
hosted.

Questions about Landry’s and the mayor’s possible illegal handling of funds nagged at him. He needed access to Landry’s computer to search for answers.

But Landry wouldn’t willingly hand that over. And if he asked, he’d tip his hand that he was investigating the mayor.

Mack inched closer to Landry’s computer, hoping for the right opportunity, but he couldn’t get to it with
Lily in the room. Still, he removed a tiny camera from his pocket, pretended to adjust one of the pictures on the wall and placed it at the edge of the frame.

“I’ve been thinking, Mack. Maybe we shouldn’t introduce you to Winston yet.”

Mack folded his arms. “Why the hell not?”

“It just might be better if I told him about you first, then we set up a meeting.”

“Lily, I’ve waited
eight years to see him. I’m not waiting another damn day.”

The office door opened then and Landry stepped inside. Tiny age lines fanned the corners of the man’s mouth, and silver tipped the edges of his hair.

But his cold gray eyes hadn’t changed. They were still fierce and formidable.

Landry muttered a curse when he saw Mack. “So you finally crawled out from under the rock where
you’ve been hiding.”

“Yeah, and look who I found,” Mack said through clenched teeth. “Imagine my surprise. Lily and my son didn’t die in the storm like you said.” He stepped closer to Landry, his hands curled into fists. “Then again, you knew that all along.”

Landry poured himself a cup of coffee then gestured toward Lily.

She shook her head no. “Why did you tell him Winston and
I died?”

“Because a father’s job is to protect his child.”

“I didn’t need your protection, Dad,” Lily cried. “I deserved the truth. And my son needed a father but you denied him that.”

“Yes, Winston needed a father but not a criminal for one.” Landry’s expression turned chilling. “When the storm hit, Rivet, you had just been arrested. You may have escaped in the storm, but that
simply makes you a fugitive like half the other lowlifes the state lost during Katrina.”

Mack gritted his teeth. “Then why didn’t you send someone after me when I called you about Lily?”

Landry sipped his coffee. “I figured the police would catch you sooner or later.”

Mack arched a brow. “As long as I wasn’t bothering your daughter, you were fine to let me go free?”

“I’m not
fine with anyone who breaks the law,” Landry said harshly.

Mack barely controlled his rage. “But you’re okay framing an innocent man?”

“If you’re as innocent as you claim, why have you been hiding out?” Landry asked. “Why didn’t you face the charges like a man?”

“Because I was set up.” Mack’s voice rose. “And I think you helped frame me.”

A noise sounded and Mack looked up
to see Winston standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on his face.

Dear God, he’d wanted to meet his son. But he didn’t want him to hear him and Landry hurling accusations at each other.

* * *

T
EARS
BURNED
L
ILY
’
S
EYES
at the pained look on her son’s face. Good Lord. This was not the way she wanted to introduce him to Mack. She should have told Anita to make sure he stayed
outside.

Winston stared up at Mack. “You’re my father?”

Mack took a deep breath. “Yes, I am, son.”

Winston glanced back and forth between them. “Why did you all lie to me?”

“Honey, I can explain,” Lily said. Had her father really believed Mack was guilty of the crimes he’d been accused of?

She had....

“I’m sorry, Winston,” Mack said. “I... There was a terrible misunderstanding
and I thought you and your mother were gone.”

“We’re not,” Winston said with a stubborn lift to his chin. “And Mom cried at night for you, but you never came.”

Then he turned and ran from the room.

Lily hated to leave Mack alone with her father.

But she had to talk to her son, so she left them together.

* * *

M
ACK
GLARED
AT
L
ANDRY
. “Do you really think it was good
for my little boy to believe his father was dead when he needed me?”

Landry shot him a lethal look. “If his father is a dirty cop, yes. With me, that boy has a chance at a good life. He’ll attend the best schools, camps, sports activities, anything he wants. That’s what I can give him.” Landry’s voice hardened. “What do you have to offer? You’re broke and are facing criminal charges. You
know what it was like growing up under the shadow of your own father’s incarceration. Do you want that for Winston?”

Mack’s gut tightened. Landry knew how to play hardball.

He’d hated the taunts other kids had thrown at him. Had hated being a jailbird kid.

His mother had died heartbroken and humiliated.

Landry cleared his throat. “If you have any feelings toward Winston, you’ll
leave him and Lily alone.”

That would be the unselfish thing to do.

But his son’s face flashed in Mack’s mind. If anything, he had to prove his innocence now for Winston.

“You have a point,” Mack said. “But the thing you’re missing is that I’m innocent, Landry. And I intend to prove it.”