With Good Behavior (15 page)

“You sure as hell did screw up!” Roger hollered. “Here I am stuck in this fucking hospital, hoping you two could keep my business afloat—that’s all I asked—and I come to find out you’re drinking on the job? You think this cruise is some sort of joke or something? I worked my ass off to buy that ship! You’re not going to tear it all down with one night of partying. Joe will not be pleased with you, Madsen, when he finds out you couldn’t hold down this one simple job.”

Sophie suddenly flashed with anger and words tumbled out of her mouth. “You’re being so unfair, Rog! You left us both in the lurch when you had your heart attack. Granted, it’s not like you asked for it, but we did you a 
favor
 by taking over your business, and now you’re 
yelling
 at us? Now you’re threatening to fire us? I’ll have you know that Grant did an incredible job at the mic. The customers absolutely loved him, and his commentary … well, it was even better than yours!”

Grant’s eyes widened, and he tried to gauge Rog’s reaction. Sophie calmed down to realize she had just insulted her boss, the one man who could keep her out of prison. She swallowed hard.

But Roger began chuckling, slowly shaking his head. “You got balls, Taylor. Swear to God, you two make quite a pair. Who wears the pants in this relationship, Madsen? You got a live one here. She’s going to be tough to handle.”

Glancing at Sophie, Grant felt strengthened by the intensity flaring in her shiny chestnut eyes. She would fight for him, he now knew. And he wanted to fight for her in turn.

“I don’t need to 
handle
 her, Rog,” Grant informed him with a twinge of disgust. “She takes care of herself quite all right all on her own. But it looks like you’re going to be stuck here for a while, and you have nobody to run your cruises today except for us. Sophie and I make a good team, and I promise I’ll do a better job. I’m never going to drink again, I tell you. It’s vile.”

Roger remained silent, so Grant added, “Give us another chance, sir. We won’t disappoint you.”

Stroking his chin, Roger conceded, “If you run the ship today, you will return tonight to tell me how all four cruises went, in detail. None of this ‘I can’t remember’ bullshit.”

“You got it, Rog. Your business is in good hands.”

“Let’s not exaggerate, Madsen. You’re on toilet duty when I finally get out of this fucking hospital.”

“Mr. Eaton?” a voice called from the doorway, breaking the tension.

A young blond woman entered the room. She was thin and petite, with big blue eyes and rosy cheeks. “I’m Jodi Roman, your dietitian.” She smiled as she wheeled her cart toward the bed.

Roger raised his eyebrows, gaping at the human Barbie now standing by his bedside. “Dietitian?”

“That’s right. We’re going to get you started on a healthy diet to prevent another myocardial infarction. Would you like to introduce me to your friends here? Are these your children?”

Roger’s body shook with laughter for quite a while before he could respond. “Hardly! These are my employees.” He shot a stern glance toward them both. “Well, they’re my employees for now, anyway.”

“Great!” Her reply was bubbly. “They can help you make smart food choices at work.” She turned to the plastic cart and extracted a piece of plastic broccoli. “These are my food models.”

“What the hell does that plastic crap have to do with my heart?” Roger growled.

“Let me explain,” she said, pulling up a chair. “You had a blockage in your artery that caused a heart attack. Do you know what caused the blockage?”

“I’m the captain of a ship, not some fucking heart doctor,” he rumbled.

“I see. You’re a sailor, then,” said Jodi, not missing a beat. “Let me ask you this, do you have any hoses on board your ship?”

“Yeah, we got a hose that pumps water out from the galley if necessary,” he replied, trying to keep it simple for Barbie.

“And does that hose ever get clogged?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Brine, barnacles, all kinds of shit can get in there and clog it up.” Roger turned to Grant. “By the way, check on the filter system today, Madsen.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Well,” Jodi resumed her analogy. “Your heart artery got clogged just like that hose. And what clogged it was fatty cells called plaque. A clogged artery is not good, Mr. Eaton. If you have another heart attack, you could die.”

Roger sat quietly with a frown on his face. Grant was pleased to see him shut up and listen for once.

“Hardening of the arteries is partly due to genetics. Do you have any family history of heart disease?”

“I don’t think so.”

“The buildup of plaque is also related to your diet. Do you know which foods should be eaten only sparingly because they are not heart healthy?”

Roger had a good idea but he was too pissed off to answer.

“Deep dish pizza?” Grant offered, and Roger shot him the stare of death.

“Yes!” Jodi replied. “Cheese, red meat, fried foods, cream sauces …”

“All my favorites,” Roger cried mournfully.

“I’m not saying you can never eat those foods again, Mr. Eaton. You just need to add in more heart-healthy foods, like this vegetable here.” She held up the stalk of broccoli, and Roger eyed it with disdain. “I’d like you to meet my friend here, Ms. Broccoli.” She placed the green blob on the top of the cart and began lining other plastic vegetables next to it.

“Rog and vegetables don’t get along too well,” Grant explained. “They have a hate-hate relationship.”

“Aw,” Jodi replied, petting the broccoli. “That hurts broccoli’s feelings when you say mean things about her like that.”

Roger gawked at the dietitian and began to suspect the three people around him were having fun at his expense.

“Yeah, she’s really good for your body, Rog.” Sophie jumped into the fray. “Ms. Broccoli 
lurves
 you.”

“Aren’t those vegetables sexy?” Grant cooed, trying to hold in laughter. “Sexy, sexy veggies. You two need to go on lots of dates together.”

“That’s it, you two. Get out!” Roger ordered.

“You want us to leave, sir?” Grant asked innocently.

“He and Ms. Broccoli need some time alone.” Sophie winked, taking hold of Grant’s arm.

As they headed out the door, Roger called, “Taylor! Get some cash from the ticket vendor by the docks, and stock up the bar before the one o’clock cruise!”

“Will do, Rog,” Sophie nodded.

“I want receipts. And that tequila is coming out of both of your paychecks!”

“Understood, sir,” Grant acknowledged.

The pair left the hospital and walked toward the ship, choosing to forego the city streets and head south along shimmering Lake Michigan instead. Both were quiet, lost in thought. Grant finally spoke. “One thing I like about you is that you don’t talk all the time.”

She looked at him, showing a hint of surprise as well as self-consciousness. “I guess that’s just leftover from my former career. Psychologists tend to listen a lot.”

They walked a little further and Sophie admitted, “I’m thinking about what happened back there. That was a close call, and I’m a little freaked out that I’m going to lose this job. I don’t want to go back, Grant.”

He sighed heavily, nodding in agreement. Returning to prison was his number one fear.

“Frankly I’m just trying to figure out how I got here. How in the world did I end up on parole after serving a year in prison? How did I end up playing waitress on a ship, with no home and no family? It’s plain crazy.” She sighed, but then glanced at Grant. “But I, um … I’m glad I’m not in this alone. I’m grateful you’re here with me.”

He looked genuinely touched, and his piercing eyes seared into her. “I’m trying to work out how I screwed up things so badly in my life too,” he said. “But if not for prison and those awful meetings with Officer Stone, we never would have met. Maybe it was somehow all meant to be.”

Sophie felt like she was floating, as high as a kite. How could one man make her feel so damn good?

They continued on, both with a bounce in their step, actually looking forward to running four cruises, 
together.

Grant could see the Spire construction site ahead of them, and he turned to Sophie. “How 
did
 I describe the Spire last night? That part I simply can’t remember.”

Sophie blushed. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

“Give me the hard truth, please.”

“The hard truth, huh?” She bit her lip, but a few giggles still spilled out. “It’s appropriate that you say that. As I recall, you said the Spire was the most phallic thing ever.” Grant’s eyes widened and Sophie forged ahead. “You told everyone it was a throbbing, um, 
penis
 thrusting upward into the sky.”

His jaw dropped.

“You really don’t remember?”

He shook his head and climbed over the railing onto the ship. Time to begin another long workday. “You’re right,” he said. “Drunk Grant 
is
 a handful.”

S
ophie smiled as she bid farewell to the passengers from the seven o’clock cruise. Today’s cruises had been far less eventful than the previous night’s, and Sophie almost missed the entertainment of a drunken captain at the helm. But they both needed this job, so they’d performed their duties efficiently and with no shenanigans. However, Sophie continued to be impressed by Grant’s narration of the architectural wonders. He seemed to add new information every cruise.

Two women, among the last departing passengers, approached Sophie. One had platinum-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a button nose and big blue eyes. She was shorter and perhaps slightly older than Sophie was, and she nervously clasped Sophie’s forearm. “The guy who was the tour guide—he said his name was Grant. Is he, um, Grant Madsen by any chance?”

Sophie stared at the woman curiously. “Yes, he is.”

“I 
thought
 so!” she declared victoriously to her friend. “Could I, um, maybe talk to him?”

Suddenly feeling jealous and somewhat protective of the “guy who was the tour guide,” Sophie squinted and suspiciously inquired, “Do you know him?”

“Yes.” She nodded decisively with increasing confidence. “I’d like to see him. I need to talk to him. He’s up there?” She gestured toward the bridge, beginning to walk in that direction.

“Hold on. I’ll take you to him,” Sophie said, desperately wanting to know how this cute blonde knew Grant.

“Wait a minute!” the blond woman’s brown-haired friend cried, tapping Sophie’s shoulder. “I have a question for you.”

Sophie turned around and was dismayed to see the blonde ascending the stairs. “How can I help you?” Sophie asked politely through gritted teeth.

“I was told there would be singing on this cruise,” the woman said.

“Singing?”

“Yes. My friend Maureen took one of these cruises last night, and she said she had a total blast. The tour guide was leading everybody in a Frank Sinatra song or something?”

A smile crept onto Sophie’s face. Perhaps the drunken singing had been a good idea after all.

Up on the bridge, Grant was placing the microphone headset into a drawer when he noticed a shadow in the doorway. He glanced up. “Ashley?”

Hearing his deep, smooth voice, she grinned and took a step toward him before hesitating. Both stared awkwardly for a moment. Then Grant came to his senses and gave her a quick, chaste hug.

Ashley pulled back, admiring his tall frame and tanned face. “You’re—you’re all grown up. You’re a man now,” she said. “I mean, what has it been? Five years?”

“At least,” he nodded. “How’s Ben?”

“He’s turning sixteen next month.”

Grant’s eyes widened, and he shook his head with wonder. “No, that’s not possible. Sixteen? My nephew is sixteen? God, I feel old.”

Ashley chuckled. “Yep, sixteen. He’s going to be driving soon, so you best avoid the roads in the near future.”

He smiled, but his eyes showed only sadness. Ashley’s grin faded, and she wondered if visiting him had been such a good idea. “How long you been out?”

Grant looked down. “Almost a month now. Logan told you what happened?”

She bit her lip nervously. “Well, Angelo said you got sentenced to three years, but I don’t know the details.”

His eyes darkened, like an ominous gray cloud obscuring the bluest sky. “What are you doing with Angelo? Stay away from him, Ashley.”

“That’s actually why I needed to talk to you. I want to invite you to Ben’s sixteenth birthday party.” She pressed her lips together. “At the compound.”

His voice trembled with anger. “Angelo is hosting Ben’s birthday party? No. You and Ben should never go there! Keep away from them!”

“How am I supposed to do that, Grant? I can’t ban him from his father’s entire family!”

“When the family is as sick as ours, then you damn well better keep your son away from them. Letting Ben see his father is one thing, but you need to steer clear of Angelo and Carlo.”

“I 
can’t
 let Ben see his father,” she hissed. “Logan has been missing for over a year.”

“Missing?” Grant took a step back. “Why?”

“The cops wouldn’t tell me, but they’re looking for him. What a surprise. He’s in trouble with the law.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “Such a wonderful father 
he’s
 turned out to be.”

Grant rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the morning’s headache beginning to return. “So Ben has been without a father for the past year?”

“Ben has been without a father his entire life,” she corrected. “Without a good one, anyway.”

“Still, you can’t let Angelo host a birthday party for him. You can’t let Angelo get his claws into him.”

“I’m afraid it may be too late. Ben worships Angelo and Carlo. He thinks they’re cool. They’re tough. That’s why you have to be there, Grant. You have to help Ben or he’s going to turn into a mobster just like them. He’ll end up in prison like his grandfather, and like his father too, once the police catch up to him.”

“And like I’m such a positive influence? I just got out of prison myself. I’m a felon, Ashley. Ben would be better off without me.”

“That’s not true!” She was sad to find Grant viewing himself so negatively. “I was so shocked when Angelo told me you were going to prison that I begged Logan to fill me in on what happened. Lo did admit that he threatened to hurt your Uncle Joe unless you helped him commit a crime.”

Grant’s wounded eyes met her intense gaze, and he swallowed, feeling bile rise in his throat. “I can’t believe he owned up to that.”

“I think he almost needed to tell me, like he had to confess or something. He seemed to feel really guilty about the whole thing.”

“Yeah,” Grant scoffed. “He feels really bad. He’s all torn up inside. In the meantime, I go to prison and he goes scot-free.”

“Logan did get sentenced to court-ordered counseling.”

Grant was too incensed to respond. His hands had curled into fists, and his breathing came in short, shallow rasps. All the tequila in the world could not numb the resentment washing over him.

“Grant?” she asked gently. “What happened that day? Will you tell me?”

He leaned against the console and rubbed his hand over his clipped black hair. He sighed, glancing out the window to see Sophie conversing with a female passenger on the deck below. He did not want her to learn the sordid details of his crimes, but he supposed he owed the story to the mother of his nephew. Maybe once Ashley heard the tale, she would cease recruiting him as a positive role model for her son. Ben certainly deserved better.

“It was two years ago, in March,” he began.

The brothers continued to stand at their mother’s grave, planning a robbery over her plot. Grant felt sick.

“We need the security code to the basement room in that bar near the base,” Logan said.

“And why do you think I would know it?”

“Because you have Navy buddies who gamble there all the time.”

“It’s against regulations to go down there.”

“You always had to follow the rules—Uncle Joe’s good little boy,” Logan sneered.

Grant’s blood boiled. “You never gave Joe a chance!”

The older brother, stronger and burlier, held out his arm to restrain the younger one. “Do I have to remind you what’s at stake here? The very man you’re defending. Get that code or Joe is dead.”

Grant had no choice. He got the needed information from his old bunkmate, Simkins, who was still stationed at Great Lakes. The next day he found himself in the driver’s seat of an unfamiliar car, idling outside the bar near the naval base. Logan sat next to him, dismayed to see his little brother trembling with fear.

“It’ll be okay,” Logan promised. “You’re a Barberi. You’re Dad’s son. This stuff runs in our blood.”

“Dad got caught,” Grant reminded him.

“We both know that wasn’t his fault. He was only protecting his nephew. Family means everything to him.”

“Whatever,” Grant scoffed, turning off the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait,” Logan insisted, extending his arm across his brother’s chest. He reached into the waistband of his jeans. “You need some protection.”

Grant gasped when his brother extracted the gleaming handgun from its hiding place. He thrust the weapon at Grant, who eyed the Glock 17 with trepidation. “I won’t need that, Lo.”

“I’m not gonna have my brother go in there holding only his dick.”

“I’m not going to shoot somebody!”

“Take it. You never know what you’re going to find. Just having a gun on me has gotten me out of some tight spots.”

Grant’s breathing quickened as his eyes locked on the weapon. He had trained with quite a few handguns and rifles in his Navy career, but those weapons were legally issued by his superior officers, who sanctioned and ordered their use. This was quite different. Grant was sure this gun was as illegal as the theft he was about to perpetrate.

“Take the damn gun! We’re stealing money from a gambling establishment, Grant, not robbing Garrett’s Gourmet Popcorn. If anybody catches you, this gun may be the only thing that saves your life.” Logan added condescendingly, “Joe would be crushed if his cherished nephew died because he was unprepared.”

Aiming a hostile glance at his brother, Grant yanked the weapon from his grasp and placed it in the rear of his waistband, tucked securely against the small of his back beneath his uniform. The cold metal felt odd against the sweat sliding down his spine. 
Get it under control, Madsen
, he silently told himself. 
You can do this
.

“What if I can’t find the bag?” Grant asked for about the tenth time. Logan had lost a substantial amount of cash to a Navy lieutenant in a poker game at Angelo’s club in downtown Chicago a few nights before, and afterward he’d tailed the lieutenant north to this bar. Logan had watched the lieutenant carry the bag of cash into the bar, then emerge empty-handed. There had been more than one hundred thousand dollars in that bag, and now it was stashed somewhere. Logan knew if he didn’t get the money back, Carlo would be quite angry—the kind of anger that led men to kill.

“You’ll find the bag. Get into the basement room your buddy described, and I’m sure it will be hidden there somewhere.”

Grant, ever the planner, felt increasingly nervous as the robbery approached. “What if they’ve changed the code? Simkins hasn’t been there for months.”

Logan sighed. “Calm down. It will be fine, okay?”

“You’re calm because you’re fucking staying in the car! Why don’t you do this?”

“Because I already have a record, unlike you, Mr. Über Patriot Boy. And because that Navy uniform will help you blend in.”

Logan placed a large hand on Grant’s forearm before he exited the car. “You’re not going to run into anybody you know, are you?”

“I doubt it. I haven’t lived on the base in ten years.”

Reluctantly releasing his grasp, Logan added, “If anything bad goes down in there, you don’t know who I am, got it? You don’t want anything happening to Joe.” Logan let his cruel words sink in before adding, “Be careful, bro.”

Grant glared and felt a catch in his throat as he stared into the deep-blue eyes of the brother who once tried to protect him from their father. Their adult relationship could have been different. Grant could have loved his older brother, if only Logan had let him. And Logan could have encouraged his little brother, instead of threatening him and dragging him into criminal activity. But wishing it didn’t make it so.

Hastily exiting the vehicle, Grant straightened his khaki uniform and strode into the bar, hoping nobody could detect the quivering throughout his body.

He gave a plastic smile to the bartender, then turned to the stairwell. Grant quickly descended, pausing for a moment at the base of the stairs. He glanced to his left, the direction he intended to go, and then to his right, where the restrooms were located. At just that moment, the door swung open and Grant froze as a man in a captain’s uniform emerged. Grant spun on his heel and headed left when he heard a deep voice call out behind him.

“Grant?”

Shit. He 
had
 seen him. Closing his eyes, Grant turned and faced his uncle’s former boss. They exchanged salutes. “Captain Lockhart! How are you, sir?”

“That 
is 
you!” Archibald Lockhart’s booming voice rang out in the basement corridor as he gave a big smile, stepping closer.

Feeling his face flush, Grant tried to hide his palpable anxiety.

Archie’s smile faded. “Is something wrong?”

“N-n-no, sir. I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“Well, you know where it is, Grant. You used to come here all the time with Joe.”

Grant nodded. “Yeah, I guess I got turned around or something.”

A lieutenant came bustling down the stairs, and she stopped immediately upon noticing the captain. Archie tilted his head dismissively, and she scampered toward the women’s restroom.

After an uncomfortable silence, Archie finally spoke. “So, you decided to visit your old stomping grounds?”