Forever in My Heart Read online

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence. I’ll leave you ladies to chat.” He looked at his wife with concern. “Do you want me to bring you something, luv? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

  Kate grimaced—she hated tea—but nodded at her husband.

  “Decaffeinated with lemon. No milk,” Kate called after him.

  Grabbing Vicky’s hand, Kate pulled her fully onto the bed. “What do you think?”

  “About tea or the baby?” Vicky teased.

  “The baby.”

  Kate scrunched the blanket that covered her, and based on her wrinkled forehead, Vicky predicted she was going to start bawling seconds before the first tear fell.

  Pulling Kate close, Vicky patted her back while she cried. “Everything’s okay with the baby, right?”

  Kate nodded. “As far as I know. The doctor wants me to take it easy until after I get past ten weeks. Between my miscarriage and the high probability I’ll have twins, he wants to be careful.”

  “You did want this, right? Another child of your own.”

  “Yes. I want Edward’s baby more than anything, but—”

  “What? Is it Tony or the baby you lost? Or is it Lucas you’re worried about?”

  “All of the above. I’m afraid the miscarriage could have messed me up inside. What if I’m not able to carry full-term—especially if I have twins?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Is the doctor concerned?”

  “He doesn’t seem to be, but you know how doctors are…everything’s all great one minute and the next thing you’re miscarrying.”

  “Worrying won’t help things.”

  “I know, I know.” Kate rested her hands on her flat stomach. “I’m afraid it may be my last chance.”

  “Weren’t we raised to be positive?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Vicky held up a hand and cut her off. “But nothing. Enjoy the next few weeks. You don’t have to tell anyone yet, not even the family. I’ll keep your secret.”

  Kate shook her head. “No. I want to tell everyone. You’re right. I need to be positive. I hate this emotional rollercoaster. I don’t remember being like this with either of my past pregnancies.”

  “Maybe that means you’re going to have a drama-queen girl, just like her mama.”

  “Funny. I don’t care what it is as long as he or she is healthy.”

  “Have you been feeling well? How long have you been getting sick?”

  “I’ve felt great. That’s the first time I’ve thrown up.” She bit her lower lip. “I think it was the garlic. The smell was so strong downstairs I decided to come up and rest. Only I didn’t quite make it.”

  “Ma does go heavy with the garlic, doesn’t she? I’ll go downstairs and light a few odor-absorbing candles and crack open a couple windows. Maybe that will help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ma doesn’t know yet?”

  “No, although knowing her, she probably can already tell.”

  “She’s going to freak when she hears, you know.”

  “Yeah, she’s been throwing all kinds of hints that she’d like another grandchild to spoil.”

  “And it’s not as if Vinnie or I are helping in that manner.”

  “No, and with Nick almost divorced, it all falls on my shoulders. Are you sure you’re not seeing anyone?”

  Vicky flashed to the other day with Jamie, all hard and intense as she stroked his stomach. If her phone hadn’t rung, he would have full on kissed her. And she would have let him.

  “The well has been dry for a while, now. I’ve sworn off men. It’s only baked goods and coffee for me. I’ll have hips like Ma before I turn thirty.”

  Kate angled her head. “There’s something, though. What?”

  Sometimes her sister’s radar could be as well-tuned as their mother’s.

  “Lucy started seeing someone.”

  “Really, who?”

  Vicky rose from the bed, not wanting to be near Kate when she exploded—and there was no doubt in Vicky’s mind that she would.

  “Tristan Connelly.”

  Kate furrowed her brow. “Why’s that name familiar?”

  “He’s a partner in a home improvement business.”

  Realization hit, and Kate’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her curls. “What!” she yelled, swinging her feet off the bed.

  “Don’t freak. It’s not good for the baby.”

  “Don’t give me that. You mean Lucy’s dating Jamie DiSilva’s partner?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Is she crazy?”

  Only about Tristan based on the lip-lock Vicky constantly caught them in.

  “Tristan’s a nice guy.”

  “Do you see Jamie frequently?”

  “We live in the same town.” She held up her hand. “And I’ve already gone through this with Nick. Jamie isn’t harassing me. He and Tristan come in for coffee and something to eat. Often, they sit at a table and discuss business. End of story.”

  “I think you should get a restraining order.”

  “On what grounds? Association by psychotic brothers? It would never be approved.”

  Kate snorted. “Maybe Nick could make sure that it was.”

  “No. I need both you and Nick to stay out of this. I can handle my life, and that includes Jamie DiSilva. You need to focus on your pregnancy.” She threw an arm around her. “I’m happy for you, Kate. You deserve this baby after everything you’ve been through. Come, let’s go tell everyone your news.”

  ****

  The shrill of the phone woke Jamie out of the dead sleep he’d finally fallen into after hours of lying awake. A glance at the clock showed it was three a.m. What was it with him and calls in the middle of the night? Instantly alert, he reached for his cell.

  “You need to get over to our apartment,” Tristan said.

  Jamie reached for his discarded clothes on the floor and started dressing. “What happened?”

  “There’s been a break-in,” Tristan said.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Less than ten minutes later, Jamie was creeping up the third set of stairs to his apartment when he saw Vicky outside the door, ready to knock.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, coming up quietly behind her.

  She jumped, holding a hand to her heart. “Oh my God. Lucy called me. Do you always sneak up on people?”

  “Old habit. I had a lot of practice in the army.”

  “Tell that to my pounding heart.”

  He moved past her and unlocked the door.

  Inside, Jamie panned the room for damage. The cushions of the sofa had been sliced and tossed. Chairs had been overturned, cabinets left open. Someone was clearly searching for something. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who and what.

  “Damn, someone did a real number in here,” Vicky said.

  “Tristan,” Jamie called.

  His friend stepped out of his bedroom wearing army-issued shorts and a T-shirt. Behind him, Lucy hovered, wearing similar attire.

  “Vicky!” Lucy cried out.

  “Are you both okay?” Vicky asked, stepping around a cushion to reach her friend.

  Lucy nodded, but based on the frightened look on her face, Jamie could tell she wasn’t even close to okay.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Tristan moved further into the room. “We were sleeping when we heard noises out here. I grabbed my gun and scared the bejesus out of them.”

  “You have a gun?” Vicky asked.

  “Civilian-issue. It’s registered,” Tristan added.

  “Did you see their faces?” Jamie asked, glancing in his bedroom, which appeared untouched.

  Tristan shook his head. “They wore black ski caps and had darkened their faces. One was a short skinny dude and the other a tall but overweight guy. Screamed like a girl when I snuck up behind him and got him in a choke hold. He may even have wet himself. They high-tailed it out of here.”

  “Sounds like two of
the guys who cornered you in the alley behind the store,” Vicky said to Jamie.

  Figures she’d have to remember and was thinking the same thing he’d been.

  “What guys?” Lucy asked, slightly more color in her face.

  “Some assholes looking for cash,” Jamie said.

  He exchanged glances with Tristan, who nodded, understanding there was more to the story than Jamie was sharing.

  “We need to call the police,” Vicky said, pulling out her phone.

  Jamie stepped across the room and yanked the phone out of her hands. “No cops.”

  Anger streaked across her face, and she stretched to reach her phone. “Why the hell not? You had a break-in. You need to report it.”

  In normal circumstances, he would have done exactly that. But this situation wasn’t normal, and given the reputation of his family, the last thing he wanted was to have attention drawn to himself.

  “Why, so the cops can somehow twist it around to make it as though I did something to deserve it or maybe even arranged it? I’m sure your detective brother would just love that one.”

  “Nick uses facts to base his opinions. He isn’t swayed by personal opinions or vendettas.”

  Jamie grunted. “Yeah, that’s really how it seemed when he threatened me last week.”

  Stubbornness set the firm line of her mouth. It shouldn’t, but Jamie found it oddly sexy, much to his dismay.

  “No cops.” He stared her down until she finally turned away.

  He walked to the door and evaluated the lock. Picked from what he could tell. “We have better locks in the van. I’ll grab one and install it.”

  It may not hold them out the next time—if there was a next time—but it wouldn’t make it as easy to pick as the cheap-ass lock on there now. In the morning, he’d have a chat with his father about Sal. Maybe his brother had confided something in the old man that would help Jamie figure out what these creeps were hell-bent on getting their hands on. Then, he’d hunt down Jimmy and do some of his own intimidation—military style.

  Chapter Nine

  After cleaning up as much of his apartment as he could, Jamie returned to his parents’ home around eight a.m. His father sat in his favorite chair with the TV volume at ear-bleeding decibels and mumbled what sounded like a demand for breakfast as Jamie entered the room.

  Jamie wandered into the kitchen, hoping his dad at least made coffee. Disappointment filled him when he spotted the dirty pot from yesterday. Would it really kill the man to clean up a little?

  After washing the pot and starting a fresh one, he took out a frying pan to make omelets. He needed to talk with his father, and Jamie knew the smell of food was a sure-fire way to draw Johnny DiSilva into a conversation.

  As expected, not long after the eggs sizzled in the pan, his father sauntered in and sat at the table waiting to be served. Jamie was tired and annoyed enough to try something.

  “Hey, Pop. Do you mind grabbing silverware and napkins? And if you want coffee, mugs are in the cabinet.” Jamie gestured to the cabinet above the coffee pot.”

  Jamie didn’t directly look at his father. Rather, he kept busy adding cheese to the simmering eggs. After a moment, there was a scrape of a chair against the ceramic floor, and he saw out of his peripheral vision his father doing as he asked. Maybe this would work after all. Had his mother ever asked his father for help, or had she simply presumed he wouldn’t want to?

  After placing a helping of eggs and toast on plates, Jamie carried them to the table and lowered himself in the chair across from his father.

  “When did you learn to cook?” his father asked.

  “Eggs are pretty basic. Besides, I did a round in the kitchen on base.”

  They ate in silence for several minutes. Jamie didn’t realize how much his mother had always filled in gaps in conversation. It was one of the many things she’d been good at.

  “I talked to your mother yesterday,” his father said.

  “How’d that go?”

  His father shrugged. “She’s not ready to see me yet. Told me she’s been gardening and she wants to build something out back when she comes home.”

  “She showed me what she helped create. It’s nice and relaxing,” Jamie said.

  “Not sure why she’d want to bother with a garden here. The city air will probably smother the plants.”

  “You didn’t discourage her, did you?”

  “No. She can do whatever she wants to the grounds, here.”

  “I think Ma would have appreciated hearing some enthusiasm from you about her project.”

  “She wants to stay another month,” his father said between mouthfuls of eggs.

  This was the first Jamie had heard of this. “Really? Did she say why?”

  He snorted. “Said she’s not ready to see me yet. Can you imagine?”

  Yes, Jamie could.

  “It may help Ma want to come home if she saw you were willing to help her out around the house. Things like clearing up your pistachio nut shells from the den, washing out the coffee pot, helping her fold the towels.”

  His father’s eyes widened as though he’d been insulted. “That’s woman’s work.”

  “I don’t live with a woman. Who do you think does those things in my house?”

  “You’re single. Once a man is married, he expects his wife to take care of him.”

  “Pop, you’re living in the 1950s. In today’s time, women expect a man to help out. It’s a partnership.”

  “Humph.”

  Jamie had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Consider this. Maybe if you spent time with Ma, she’d be happier. You could find activities to do together.”

  His father didn’t reply but rubbed his chin, which he did when he was thinking. Hopefully that was a good sign. Jamie stood and refilled their coffee cups.

  “Listen, I need to ask you some questions—about Sal,” Jamie said.

  His father’s eyebrows shot up. “What about him?”

  “After he was released from prison, he stayed here, right?”

  “Yeah, he stayed here. What of it?”

  “Did you ever see or hear Sal mention anything about a flash drive?”

  “You mean one of those things you plug into a computer?” His father shook his head. “Not that I can recall. But your brother had his secrets.”

  Jamie just bet he had.

  “Did he leave behind any of his belongings?”

  “I don’t know. You can search his old room. Knowing your mother, she’ll still have his things from childhood. Not sure about anything from recent years.”

  Jamie had already gone through his brother’s room and hadn’t found anything.

  “What about friends? Who did he hang out with?”

  After wiping his mouth with his napkin, his father crumbled it and tossed it in his plate. “I saw him with that Jimmy Parente a bunch of times. That boy was always trouble if you ask me.”

  “He still is.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve had a few run-ins with Jimmy and his gang. They’re looking for a flash drive of Sal’s. They think I either have it or can help them find it.”

  “And can you?”

  Thanks for the confidence, Pop.

  “Hell, no.”

  “That’s good, boy. It’d break your mother’s heart if you did something half-crocked like your brothers.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me.” Jamie rose and reached for the paper his father had brought in. “I cooked, so you get to clean up. Make sure you put the leftover eggs in a container.”

  He almost laughed at the surprised expression on his father’s face. Before he could respond, Jamie escaped upstairs. While showering, he thought about what his brother could be hiding and why it was so important. Clearly it was something illegal, otherwise Jimmy wouldn’t be so determined on getting his hands on it.

  The way Jamie figured, if he couldn’t find what Sal was hiding, he’d never get Jimmy off his ass. The break
-in last night proved Jimmy didn’t believe Jamie didn’t know anything about the drive. Although he originally planned to ignore him, Jamie now figured it best if he put effort into looking for the drive.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d do with it once he found it, but he certainly wouldn’t hand it over to Jimmy. No, whatever was on the drive surely contained something illegal, and Jamie wanted no part of it. But it wouldn’t hurt to retrace his brother’s steps and learn where he’d spent his free time. And the last place his brother had been prior to his death was Decadent DeLites. It was the next logical place to start.

  ****

  Jamie pushed open the door of the café and was immediately embraced by the tantalizing smell of cinnamon buns. Although he’d just eaten breakfast, a warm and gooey cinnamon bun dripping with nuts and raisins was tempting and would hopefully brighten the crap start of his day.

  He scanned the room for Tristan, whom he had texted earlier to meet him. At the counter, an older woman he met the other day finished up with a customer.

  “Hi, Maggie. I’ll take a large coffee and a cinnamon bun. For here,” he said.

  “You got it,” Maggie said.

  “Is Tristan around?”

  Maggie smirked and nodded toward the kitchen. “He’s with Lucy. Go on back if you’d like.”

  Jamie stepped behind the counter and walked through the doorway into the kitchen. Pressed against the table stood Lucy and Tristan in a serious lip-lock. Jeez. Not a scene he needed to see, especially when his own libido hadn’t been sated in quite some time.

  “Is this service part of the VIP program?” he asked.

  They stopped kissing but didn’t tear their eyes away from each other.

  “It is, but this sexy guy here is the only one with a card,” Lucy said and pulled Tristan’s mouth to hers again.

  Jamie sighed. “When you come up for air, Trist, I’ll be out front. There’s something I want to run by you.”

  “Be there in a minute,” Tristan said between mouthfuls of Lucy.

  Back in the main room, Maggie poured his coffee, and he took it along with a cinnamon bun to his usual table by the window. Slathering the top with butter, he took a huge bite into a sticky explosion of brown sugar laced dough. Wow, it was almost as good as sex. Okay, maybe not quite as good, but it was all he had goin’ at the moment, so he let himself pretend.