Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (18 page)

“Exactly. I’m glad we agree on that.”

We share a smile.

“It’s my gut, okay? She didn’t do it.”

“She’s also your boyfriend’s mother.”

I slam my hands on the table. “If I believed my own mother had killed someone, I’d have her hauled to the police station at gunpoint. This isn’t about my personal relationship with Gi. It was at first, but the more I think about it, it isn’t. My gut tells me she didn’t do it, and my gut is never wrong. This isn’t about her. It’s about not letting an innocent woman take the shit for something she didn’t do.”

Jason covers his face with his hands and sighs. “Gut reactions don’t hold up in a court of law.”

“But they hold up in my job, and I’ve been hired to do what the police can’t. As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t do it alone. I need help.”

“Why don’t you just ask Drake?”

I smack my lips together.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” He tilts his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“Because she refuses to discuss what she was fighting with Wally about. She said it’s something that will affect Drake. She promised to tell him if I help her.”

“So, why hasn’t she?”

“I don’t know. Drake thinks she was in a relationship with Wally and they were disagreeing on something. He doesn’t know she’s hiding something from him.”

Jason has a long drink of coffee. Then, with his hands wrapped around the mug, he sighs. “He’s going to be pissed at you when he finds out.”

“Yeah, I know.” I twist my lips to the side. “But I’m kinda hoping that I can guilt her into telling him the truth. Then he’ll be madder at her than me.”

“I have no idea how you make your relationship work.”

“I love him.” I shrug and look down, picking at the cupcake wrapper. “I keep weighing everything up in my mind… How upset he’ll be if she’s convicted. How upset he’ll be when he finds out I’m involved when I promised him I’d stay out of it. How upset he’d be if he knew my promise to him meant she’d be arrested. See? He’ll be upset no matter what I do, so I figure the lesser of the evils works.”

He doesn’t respond. I bite the inside of my cheek and pick further at the wrapper. Ultimately…this is it. He’s going to be hurt no matter what. I need to do the thing that will hurt him less. And, although he’ll be mad at me for doing this, he’ll also be thankful I helped.

I hope.

“Fuckin’ hell, Noelle. That’s the most honest you’ve been since I met you.”

“What can I say?” I shrug a shoulder and glance up. “He makes me a better person.”

“I’ll help you.” Jason closes his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’ll help you. I can’t give you access to files, and I’m going to ignore the fact that your hacker bitch is trying to access said confidential files. But…shit. I’ll help you.”

Slowly, I smile. “You’re my favorite person ever.”

“Hmmm. I hear there’s a lot of that going around this week.” His voice is dry, but the upward curve of his lips gives his amusement away. “Now, tell me what you need before I change my mind.”

“Everything. And for you to call my best friend, because it’s been, like, three days, and if I have to listen to her inner musings on the outside again, I’m going to shoot myself.”

He laughs, tipping his head back. “All right. You got it.”

M
y fears about Nonna turning my kitchen into a restaurant were not, apparently, unfounded. There are currently twelve Tupperware containers on my kitchen table. Eight of them have lasagna in them, and the final four have what looks like tagliatelle pasta.

Not to mention the two giant pots of meatballs in marinara sauce currently simmering on the stove.

Seriously. The woman could feed the five hundred. Maybe that’s what all of this is for—she’s trying to feed both the entire church congregation and her bingo hall friends for a week. They’re pretty much equivalent to the five hundred anyway, and Jesus would approve.

It’s sad when your grandmother has a better social life than you.

Right now, though, I’m staring at the food piled high on the table with more than a little disdain. I have no idea where she expects me to store all of this. I already have several tubs of meatballs and sauce in my freezer. If she keeps this up, I’m going to have to purchase a chest freezer, and that’s really going to cut into my shoe-and-cupcake fund.

I’m kind of terrified that she isn’t going to leave. It’s only been a night, but the way she’s systematically working her way through every cooking pot, pan, tray, dish, and utensil I own is a little…freaky. I mean, sure, she’s washing every single one as she goes, too, but I really do want my house back this side of the Messiah’s resurrection.

And trust me: Nonna’s being in my house makes it feel like it’s a long, long time away.

“Nonna… What are you doing with all of this food?”

“Cooking it-a.”

Oh, I love it when she states the obvious. “No. I thought you were putting it in food hampers and sending it to Africa for starving kids.”

“Don’t-a be-a silly, Noella. It would-a go-a bad.” She turns the stove off, takes the pots off the hot rings, then reaches for more Tupperware. “They-a for-a your-a brothers. I put-a it in tubs. They-a cannot cook.”

“Believe me, I know. I’ve had dinner at Trent’s.” I pick up a tub with lasagna in it. Mmm, it looks so good. “Why do they need so much?”

“They-a starve.” She scoops a ladle full of meatballs and sauce into each tub.

“Yes, they look it,” I respond dryly. I pull a fork from the drawer and open one of the lasagnas.

What? I’m hungry and it smells like it wants me to eat it. Who am I to refuse it? That’d be mean.

“Oy!” Nonna turns and points the ladle at me.

Unfortunately, the ladle swung as she spun, and now, there’s marinara sauce spread across my kitchen.

And me.

“Nonna!” I put the lasagna down, tug my shirt, and wipe the sauce away with my thumb. “Damn it! This is why I told you not to go crazy in my kitchen.”

“I-a was-a only going to tell-a you that a hot-a lasagne is-a in the oven,” she says, staring at my shirt. “
Mi dispiace,
Noella.”

“Never mind.” I put the tub back on the stack and head for the stairs.

Damn woman. She might be a culinary goddess—don’t tell her I said that—but she’s also an untidy one. She really didn’t need to spin with the ladle.

I guess I should be thankful that it wasn’t full.

Since I’m upstairs, I decide to get fully changed and exchange my jeans for yoga pants. The jeans may fit now, but that doesn’t mean I think they should be worn when no one is going to see me.

“Hello?” Gianna’s voice sounds through the house. “Drake, you can’t just walk in.”

“Yes, I can. I have a key.”

“You have a key?” I ask him, pausing halfway down the stairs. “When did you get a key?”

He raises an eyebrow. “When people kept breaking into your house with the intention to steal information or kill you.”

“Okay, but how did you get a key?”

“Sweetheart, you keep your spare key in the hanging flower basket at the side of the house. How hard do you think it was to take it, copy it, and put it back without you noticing?”

“That key is still there? I thought I moved it.”

“And that is exactly why I have a key.”

“Why do you have a key to my house but I don’t have a key to your house. That’s hardly fair.”

“Are you going to come to my rescue any time soon?” His left eyebrow shoots up to join the other.

“Maybe. Someone might break into your house,” I reason, finally making my way to the bottom of the stairs. “Although the chances of a potential rescue rest wholly on how badly you’ve pissed me off on that particular day.”

He grins, laughs, and dips his head. He gently brushes his lips over mine. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls his keys out. I frown as he flicks through them and pulls one off the main ring.

“Here.” He puts the golden key in front of my face.

“What?”

“You wanted a key. Here’s a key.”

“To your house?”

“No, my fucking shed.”

“No need to be an ass.” I take it from him. “Is this a spare one or are you giving me yours?”

“Yes, Noelle. I’m giving you my house key. Did you get hit over the head today?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Watch it. I’ve been watching
Forensic Files
again. I could do damage with this key.”

His lips turn upward at the corners, and laughter dances in his eyes as he taps me on the nose. “I figured you’d find out sooner or later that I’d copied your key and would have this reaction. I came prepared.” He says it with a widening of his grin and a wink. Then he moves around me to the kitchen. “Well, shit, Nonna. You’ve been busy.”

“
Si
!” she exclaims, wiping the last of the marinara sauce off my cupboard. “You want-a lasagna?”

“Sure.”

Gianna purses her lips and stares at Drake as he sits at the table and attempts to make space for a plateful of lasagna. I feel how she looks: confused.

“Drake?” she says, touching a hand to my back. “You just copied her key?”

“Yep. She’s pissed at me more often than not, and if you knew how many times her life has been in danger this year, you’d copy a key for yourself.”

Well…he does have a point. I did handle both break-in situations myself, and while none of my murderer confrontations have been at my house, given my luck, I can’t rule that out in the future.

Optimism at its finest.

“It’s true,” I admit rather unwillingly. “You would.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Thanks, Nonna,” Drake replies, taking the plate from Nonna. “Neither do I, Mom, which is why I have the key. Makes me feel better, especially because she gets trigger happy when she thinks someone is in her house.”

“Just because I almost shot you once.” I roll my eyes, pull two bottles of water from the fridge, then hand one to Gianna. “You barged in unannounced. I would have been well within my rights.”

He inclines his head in agreement. “I’m amazed you haven’t yelled at me for copying your key.”

“It’s hard.”

“And that you’re drinking water and not wine after that.”

“Well, wine is getting expensive, and I’m holding out hope that Jesus will stop by for some lasagna and make this water into wine.”

“You-a hope for Jesus?” Nonna gasps, pressing her hand to her chest.

“Sorry to break your heart, Nonna, but just for the water-to-wine thing. I just wanna save a few bucks.”

“Pah! You-a kill-a me, child.”

“Probably one day. If Mom doesn’t first.”

“I take-a a nap,” she mutters, wiping her hands and heading for the stairs.

Well now. If that’s how I get her out of my kitchen, I’m gonna throw the M-bomb around like it’s the F-bomb.

I guess I need to clear the table. Nice of Nonna to do that for me. Always helpful.

I move the tubs onto the counter by the window, put the pasta in the pantry, then finally pull the new tray of lasagna from the oven. I serve up two plates and throw a couple of pieces of garlic bread onto the side of the plate for me and Gianna.

“You’re still not yelling at me. I’m a little scared.” Drake sets his fork down as I sit next to him.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye with a small smile. “I’m compromising.”

“You’re compromising?”

“It happens. Not often, but it happens.” I put a forkful of food in my mouth.

“What are you compromising on?”

I swallow. “You have a key to my house in case of intruders, and I get to shoot intruders on first glance without you yelling at me.”

“That sounds like an awful big compromise for both of us.”

“I know.” I sip my water. “But, since you went ahead on my half without consulting me, there’s no way you can argue on your half.”

Gianna snorts. “She wins, son. Sorry.”

“I…” He trails off when his phone rings. He glances at the screen then says, “I have to take this. And this conversation isn’t over.”

“I know.” I sip my water again as he gets up and takes it outside. The second he shuts my front door, I turn to Gianna. “So… There’s a reason I asked you to come for dinner.”

“I guessed. I was hoping he’d disappear for a moment. What’s up,
cara
?” A tiny smile teases her lips, and she plays with some minced meat on the side of her plate.

“I need help getting in contact with Kat. She isn’t returning my calls, and I desperately need to speak with her about Wally.”

“No problem. I’ll try and call her now. When did you want to speak to her?”

“Honestly? As soon as possible. I really need to get some ideas about relationships Wally had. Rosie didn’t know a thing.”

“How about tomorrow? Wally’s viewing is at three, but you could talk after.”

“Sure.” I set my fork down on the side of my plate. “I was planning on going with you anyway.”

“You were?” She looks up, her smile growing.

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “Of course. You can’t go alone.”

Nothing like a last-minute plan, I suppose.