Tyler O’Neill’s Redemption (19 page)

“I’m not a fish,” she snapped. “You can’t reel me in.” But she didn’t pull her hand away and she took one step and then another closer to the bed.

“I’ve been alone a long time, Jules,” he said. “The only people who held me accountable to anything had lower standards than I did. It’s going to take me a while to get used to being a good guy.”

“Don’t make a fool of me, Tyler,” she said, and then without any more resistance, she put one knee on the bed and leaned over to kiss him.

She spent the rest of the day at The Manor, much to Tyler’s delight. He made her eggs and after the sun set he tried to convince her to stay for pizza, but she resisted.

“I have to go,” she said at the door, a totally different woman than the one who’d arrived that morning. Chief Tremblant, without all the starch. “I need to get ready for work tomorrow.”

“I’ll call you,” he said as she stepped across the new porch and into the twilight. She turned, the breeze toying with her hair, and blew him a kiss.

Once she was gone, Tyler shut the door and nearly ran through the house back to his room. He was going to take that damn diamond out to Remy’s and toss it into the swamp.

He wasn’t going to have his life fall down around him for some mistake one of his parents made. No way. Not when he had so much to lose.

He yanked the zipper down on the side pocket of his leather duffel and tossed out the top two socks, looking for the black pair he’d hidden behind them.

The socks weren’t there.

Trying to keep his cool, he opened the main pocket and dug through shirts and underwear, a couple of pairs of jeans, until he found one black sock at the bottom.

He tore apart the bag. His room. He ran into the room Richard had been staying in, but it was empty.

No socks. No diamond.

The gem was gone.

And in his mind it was no coincidence that his father happened to be gone, too.

Swearing, he found his cell phone and dialed his brother’s number.

“Carter O’Neill,” his brother said after the first ring. Carter was always Johnny-on-the-spot when it came to his cell phone.

“Carter.” Tyler rested his head against the doorjamb, feeling worse than he had in a long time. He hated calling his big brother for help, like some kind of child, but there was no one else he could talk to. Not even Juliette, despite what she might say. She was police, and this was a very nonpolice matter. “We have a problem,” Tyler said, and launched into the whole story.

“You’re sure Dad has it?” Carter asked when Tyler was done.

“It’s a pretty big coincidence, isn’t it? A diamond is missing and so is a confessed jewel thief.”

“I’m just saying, you put it in a sock, Tyler. Is there any way you’ve lost—”

“No!” Tyler yelled, in no mood to be baby-brothered by Carter. Despite the fact that putting a diamond in a sock was a dumb move, especially since he and Dad swapped clothes like girls. “There’s no way.”

Carter sighed and Tyler burned, recognizing that sigh from a dozen other phone conversations when Tyler had reached out for help.

“Forget it,” Tyler said. “The damn thing is gone, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

A big gong was struck in his head.

It truly didn’t matter anymore.

With the diamond off O’Neill property, it was no longer his problem. And considering that Richard had been a person of interest when the gems initially disappeared, if he was stupid enough to get caught with the diamond now, it was pretty cut-and-dried.

Savannah and Margot wouldn’t be implicated.

Juliette wouldn’t be forced to get involved.

Everything was going to be okay.

“Doesn’t matter?” Carter asked. “If Dad gets caught, it will be all over the papers.”

“So?” He’d been all over the papers before; it only hurt for a minute.

“So, some of us have careers, Tyler. Careers that hinge on keeping this kind of garbage out of the papers.”

Carter was mayor pro-temp of Baton Rouge, and Tyler had to admit that if Dad got caught with this gem, it would be ugly for Carter.

Sympathy flooded Tyler. Just as his problems got better, Carter’s got worse. O’Neills could not catch a break.

“I’ll see if I can get ahold of Dad,” Tyler said.

“Do that,” Carter snapped. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Carter hung up and Tyler dialed his father’s cell phone number, but the line never rang, which meant Dad had lost his phone—again—and it was sitting someplace with a dead battery.

Or Dad had ditched the phone, not wanting to be found.

And Tyler, a selfish, disloyal brother—was glad.

He started Suzy and pulled out his cell phone, pressing redial to get Juliette.

“Chief Tremblant,” she said, and he smiled, pulling out of Remy’s parking lot where he’d held his meeting.

“That is seriously the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said.

“You didn’t think that when it was my father!”

“Ugh!” He grimaced and shook his head, trying hard to dislodge that mental image. “Come on, Jules. Don’t be sick.”

She laughed, the sound like fine wine. “How was the meeting?”

“Awesome. We should be ready to go on Monday. How about you?”

“Well—” she sighed “—I’ve got my home visit meeting scheduled for next week. I need to clean out my home office, get stuff organized for kids.” She paused. “Do you know what kids need?”

“Let’s talk about it over dinner,” he said, looking at the sinking sun on the horizon as he drove through town. “Ben Cruise owns that new fancy place on Main Street, and he’s one of the volunteers. He invited me to come out anytime.”

“That sounds great. Why don’t you give me another hour?” she said. “There are a few things I need to do first. Do kids like bunk beds?”

“Five-year-olds, yeah. Not Miguel.” He shook his head, smiling. She was excited and Juliette would be a fantastic foster parent, but every once in a while, he was very glad to be around to help.

They hung up and after he parked Suzy, he climbed the steps of his porch by two, humming “Feel Like Making Love” under his breath.

But the song died in his throat when he saw the front door hanging open.

He’d gotten lax over the past few weeks with the alarm and locking the door, but he was pretty sure he’d closed it that morning.

Dad,
he thought, heavy anger settling in his stomach like rocks.

The door eased open under the pressure of his fist, but as he turned the corner into the living room, it wasn’t his dad sitting on the couch.

“Miguel?” Tyler asked.

“The front door wasn’t locked,” Miguel said, looking manic. His hands shook, and his eyes were way past dilated. If he didn’t know better, Tyler would think the kid was on something. And Louisa…Louisa sat in the shadows of the couch looking like a stray cat.

The air smelled like fear. And blood.

“You okay?” he asked, foreboding blossoming in his brain.

“We need money,” Miguel said, leaping off the couch. Louisa flinched. “Right now.”

Tyler approached Miguel like the boy was a wild dog. “Please, Miguel. You need to calm down—”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do!” Miguel yelled. “You have no clue!”

“Okay.” Tyler nodded. “Then why don’t you tell me. Why don’t you sit down—” He reached out to touch Miguel, to guide him back toward the couch, and Louisa leaped up.

“Don’t touch him!” she screamed, flying around Miguel to smack at Tyler’s legs. She got Tyler good in the crotch and he swore, trying to protect himself and calm Louisa down. Her braids flew wild around her face and Miguel grabbed his sister with shaking hands and pushed her back behind him.

But not fast enough.

Tyler got a good look at Louisa’s face.

Her poor, battered face.

“Oh, my God,” Tyler breathed, bile rising in his throat. “What happened?”

Miguel shook his head, his eyes diamond bright and just as hard. “I just need money, Tyler. So we can leave.”

“I can give you money. I can help, Miguel. I swear I can. But you have to tell me what’s going on.”

Miguel held out hands balled tightly into fists. He turned them over and opened his palms.

It took Tyler a second to register what Miguel was showing him.

“Is that Louisa’s blood?” Tyler asked, surprised his voice was so calm and heavy, when inside he felt as if all the walls were coming down. Fury, sympathy, fear and worry rolled through him, tearing him apart.

Miguel shook his head, holding himself so still Tyler worried the boy was going to break before he bent. Miguel’s shoulders shook. Tears flooded his eyes and poured down his face. Tyler reached for him, but Miguel collapsed back onto the couch and Louisa climbed into his lap, holding on to him while he sobbed, his entire body rocking.

“Miguel?” Tyler asked, bending his knees so he could look right into Miguel’s eyes. “Whose blood is that?”

“I killed him,” Miguel breathed. “I killed my dad.”

She paused at the curb to the parking lot.

Her father leaned against her car.

It had been weeks since they’d spoken, and her father’s smile tore at her heart.

Daddy,
she thought.
I missed you.
It surprised her, but she did. Perhaps it was all the love in the air, but she wished she and Dad could go back to the way things used to be. Before she was chief, back when the job wasn’t between them.

“Hello, Juliette,” he said.

“Dad?” she said, noticing how much weight he’d lost, how ashen his cheeks were. He wasn’t taking care of himself. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, waving off her concern. “Have you seen the news?” he asked.

“What news?” she asked, stepping off the curb. She unlocked her car, opened the rear door and put her briefcase inside.

Her phone rang and she checked the display. Tyler.

Dad’s hand touched her shoulder. “Before you answer that, I need to talk to you,” he said, his eyes level and serious. “I’m asking you for just a few minutes of your time. As a police chief.”

She sighed and then turned off the phone. Tyler probably just wanted to tell her about dinner plans.

Or talk dirty.

It was a toss-up.

“Okay, Dad,” she said, slipping her phone in her pocket. “Shoot.”

“It’s about Tyler’s father—”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “We haven’t spoken in weeks and this is—”

“He was arrested in Los Angeles. He had the Pacific Diamond in his possession.”

“You think Ramon is dead?” Tyler asked after Miguel managed to get out the whole nightmarish story. Dead bodies seemed like they should be step one.

“I hit him really hard. The bottle broke everywhere,” Miguel whispered, his eyes on Louisa, who was beginning to doze against her brother. It was getting late and the little girl had been through so much. “But it’s not like I stuck around to check.”

“You were protecting your sister,” Tyler said, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder. Miguel’s eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You did what any good big brother would do. Do you hear me, Miguel?”

Miguel nodded, stroking his sister’s hands with his bloody fingers.

Tyler didn’t know how his heart could hurt more, how he could look at this brave and scared boy and love him any more than he did.

He wanted to sweep both of these kids up in his arms, keep them safe.

“I’m going to take care of this,” he said, and stood.

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called Juliette—she would know what to do. But her message clicked on and he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Call me,” he said. “It’s urgent.”

He tried the station next, asking the man who answered the phone if Juliette was still there.

“She left about ten minutes ago,” he said, which meant that Juliette had to be at home. He didn’t have that number. How stupid was that?

Phone book, he needed a phone book.

He pulled open the first drawer in the kitchen just as thunderous knocking on his front door rattled the windows.

“Open up!” a man yelled. “Police!”

He heard Miguel scramble in the living room and he raced down the hall.

“Calm down,” he said to the totally freaked out boy, though his own nerves were about to snap. “Take your sister and go upstairs.”

“What are you going to do?” Miguel asked, helping his sister to her feet.

“Don’t worry,” he said, because he wasn’t all that sure. “I’ll think of something.”

The kids headed upstairs and there was more knocking, this time accompanied by muffled Spanish.

Tyler lifted the lace curtain in the living room a fraction of an inch and caught a glimpse of the men on the porch.

Owens. Great.

And Ramon, holding a bath towel to his head.

At least he wasn’t dead, but Tyler was inflated by a bright red and burning hot need to spill more of that man’s blood. To take every pain Ramon had inflicted on his children and return it—doubled—upon him.

Tyler dug his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, flinging cards on the floor until he found what he wanted.

He sent a quick prayer heavenward and called in the cavalry—Nora Sullivan.

Luckily, she was working late and once she was filled in on the situation, she was practically out the door.

“Just keep Ramon away from those kids. Do whatever you need to, but keep those kids away from their father and out of jail.”

With his orders in mind and the kids safely upstairs, Tyler tossed open the front door, sickened by the men that stood there.

“Owens,” he said with a sneer. “Can I ask why you’re fouling up my brand-new porch?”

“Watch it, Tyler,” Owens said, hooking a thumb between his gut and his gun belt. “We’re here on police business.”

“Where are my kids?” Ramon shouted, his wide, dark face streaked with blood, his eyes poisoned with anger.

Tyler clenched his fists, trying to keep himself under control, trying to stall for time so Nora could get here. “They’re not here,” he said, and stepped back to slam the door, but Owens quickly got a foot in the door.

“Hold on a second, Tyler. I got some questions—”

“I know they’re in there!” Ramon shouted. “Miguel spends more time here than he does at home. You’re trying to steal my kids—”

“Steal!”
Tyler cried. “Like you care, you drunk son of a bitch—”

“Hey now,” Owens said, holding up a hand, but Ramon tossed aside the bloody towel and charged Tyler, who met the man with a joyful heart and a serious right hook.

Ramon stumbled and Tyler launched himself forward, knocking the man to the ground. His veins humming with bloodlust, Tyler straddled the man and punched him, feeling the cartilage in Roman’s nose go to mush, sending blood spraying across the white porch.

Owens tried to get involved but Tyler shoved the police officer back.

Tyler lifted Ramon by the neck of his shirt, his head listing sideways, covered in old and fresh blood. “You don’t deserve those kids. You don’t—”

Owens’s fist came out of nowhere, catching Tyler in the eye and he toppled sideways before being yanked to his knees by his own neck, which Owens had wrapped his arm around.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Owens asked, squeezing even harder until Tyler saw stars. “Now I gotta take you down to the station.”

Owens called in help to take Ramon to the clinic and Tyler waited in the back of the squad car. He hoped, prayed that with Tyler in the backseat of his squad car, Owens would lose interest in the kids.

“I’m going to check the house,” Owens told the other officer, “see if those kids are here.”

Crap.

With nothing else at his disposal, Tyler went ape shit. Screaming, spitting, kicking at the window, anything to get Owens back to the car and away from the house.

He didn’t want those kids taken away in a squad car. He didn’t want them held in a cell when their night had been horrific enough. He wanted them at The Manor until someone who loved them could find them.

“Don’t make me taze you!” Owens said, sliding into the front seat.

He started up the car and Tyler watched the window of his upstairs bedroom, where Miguel stood.

“Stay,” he mouthed to Miguel. “Stay right there.”