Lightning Strikes (The Almeida Brothers Trilogy #3) (30 page)

Nina leaped off the couch and went to him just as he dropped his bag of tools to the floor.  The clanking made her nostalgic once more and, as he opened his arms to receive her passionate hug, she couldn’t believe what an idiot she’d been to stay away for so long.

She breathed in the strong scent of oil and gas that not even a million showers could wash off.  It was a smell she’d once taunted him for; one she’d often turned her nose up at.  But now, it smelled like heaven.

It smelled like home.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

He tightened his arms around her, and they tucked their swollen eyes and noses into each other’s shoulders.

“I love you,” he said, his deep voice more finite than it had even been.  “Don’t you ever do this to me again.”

Nina tightened her grip, shaking her head on his chest.  “I won’t.  I swear.”

Her father was the first to pull back, breathing deep and lifting his head high in an attempt to hide the tears.  “When is it?” he asked, sniffling.

Nina searched his eyes.  “This is the last time.  The last trial.  Whatever happens; happens.  It’s in one week.”

Jack had the presence of mind to dress down in jeans and a white t-shirt, but he couldn’t dress down his Mercedes G-Class.  As he looked through the drivers side window and caught the millionth glare from passersby on that bustling street in Fordham, Bronx, it occurred to him that his SUV was going to get him mugged ten times faster than his signature suits ever could.

Regardless, he refused to drive back home and return on the subway.  That would mean taking the risk of missing her.  A risk he wasn’t willing to take.

Avoiding eye contact with the group of young kids who slowed their stride on the sidewalk just to glare at him, Jack leaned out of the open window and gazed up at the six-story brick building.  While it was easily the nicest building on that block; it was no palace.  Aluminum foil doubled as blinds in many of the windows—and some even had hung bed sheets in place of good old-fashioned curtains.  The same group of Latin men had been on the stoop for hours, going out of their way to harass and disrespect anything with a vagina that went strutting by.

Still, Jack could also see the warmth in the neighborhood.  The Indian bodega owner who’d given a little boy a bag of chips, even though he’d been fifty cents short.  The young man with a heavy backpack offering his arm to the elderly lady trying to cross the street.  And the building before him.  The building he’d been staring at for hours.  It was beautiful to him because she was inside it.

At least, he hoped she was.  When the clouds bubbled in over the afternoon sun for the million time that morning, he sighed.  Having woken up before that sun had even made its first appearance, Jack was growing worried that he wouldn’t see her.

He’d parked next to the building at 3 am.  Maybe she worked the graveyard shift at that call center?  His heart churned at the thought.  In the passenger seat of his truck, he’d already blown through the breakfast meal he’d picked up, and with every moment that passed, his stomach growled a little more.

When a passerby on the sidewalk came to a complete stop next to his truck, made direct eye contact, and then spit in the street, inches away from his rims, Jack groaned and started the car.

There was a burger joint just up the road.  He was sure he could get in and out quickly enough not to miss her.  He pulled away from the curb, waving his thanks to the driver on the street who gave him room to veer into traffic.

The moment he pulled off, he heard it.

“God
damn,
Nina.  I see you, booboo, I see you.”

“Screw you, D!”

Jack’s foot slammed hard on the brake.  Even though her accent was thicker than he’d ever heard it, surely a side effect from being back in her own neighborhood and fighting off the hounds that lived on the stoop of her building, Jack knew her voice the moment he heard it.   His eyes shot to the rearview mirror just in time to see the back of her curly head as she turned and began moving down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Even as cars behind him honked and spewed obscenities at his sudden stop, Jack pressed his foot on the gas while yanking the steering wheel to the right, throwing his truck into a U-turn and narrowly escaping a full on collision with the cars moving the opposite way down the road.

He caught up to Nina in seconds, rolling down the passenger side window while honking his horn incessantly.

Used to being degraded in the street, she didn’t so much as blink at his obnoxious honks.  Not a wince.  Not even a hint of eye contact.

“Nina,” he called.

And there it was.  She turned and met his eyes.  Her stride clattered to a stop, and her mouth fell open.  For a moment, Jack could see the beginnings of a smile on her face, but then it was gone, and she turned on her heels, stomping the opposite way.

“Nina! 
Fuck.
”  Jack hurled the steering wheel in the other direction; now sure he was looking like an absolute pervert—not to mention lunatic—who would not leave some poor woman on the street alone.  Perhaps he was.   Still, it wasn’t enough to stop him from throwing his truck into another dangerous spin; sure he was one U-turn away from sending one of his fellow drivers into a serious bout of road rage.

But he’d gone blind.  Seeing her speed walking away from him broke his heart in two, and it only made him more determined to right what he’d wronged.  Even when she’d glared at him a moment earlier, he’d felt at peace for the first time in a week, just because she’d been looking at him.

He accelerated past her so he could park his car on the curb a few feet in front of her, and they’d be forced to run into each other.

Clearly, she was used to this game—had probably been enduring it since puberty—because by the time Jack was getting ready to park, she was crossing the street, moving back in the opposite direction.

Cursing, Jack slammed his foot on the breaks and put the truck in park, leaving half of it hanging out in the middle of the road.  He didn’t have time to park it appropriately, so he hopped out and slammed the door closed, holding his hand out to the cars in the street as he hurried across.

“Nina!” he cried, hurrying behind her, the sight of her bouncing curls pulling him in like a zombie.

She picked up her speed, arms crossed tight over her chest.  When she turned and glared at him over her shoulder, it only made him move faster, until he was close enough to reach out and touch her.

The clouds parted, allowing the sun to gleam against the tears in her eyes as she snatched her arm away before he could touch her.  “Have you lost your
mind?
Who told you where I lived?”

He held his hands out, distantly aware of the commotion he’d caused by blocking half the street with his car, but he couldn’t make himself care.

“Nina, I can’t lose you.”

She searched his eyes.  “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re my…” He looked away while biting his bottom lip.  He covered it with the back of his hand and struggled for a moment before looking back, his voice lower.  “You’re my best friend.”

Nina’s eyes narrowed.

“Hell…” His head fell, and he was barely able to mumble out his next words.  “Hell, you’re my
only
friend.”

She crossed her arms tight.

“Nina, I treated you like shit last week because I didn’t know how to tell you that.  I didn’t know how to tell you that I love you, too.  I didn’t know how to accept that I could love a woman that much, that fast.”

She ground her teeth.  “You ruined my
life.”

Jack’s hands and shoulders fell.  “I’m not that man, anymore.  That man who you saw defending him in that courtroom… That’s not me.  There’s a reason I only worked that case for the first few years. It was because I couldn’t stand praising his name for another second.  I couldn’t stand pretending he was a good man for another fucking second.  If I could go back—”

“You can’t!  You can’t go back because that’s not how life works.  You don’t get to be an asshole who hurts people for years, and then wake up one day deciding that you don’t want to be the asshole you’ve already been.  Good people make the choice not to hurt other people
before
it actually happens.  Good people exercise understanding and empathy
before
it becomes necessary to do so
. 
You have never been that person, Jack.”

“Nina, I hate him as much as you do, and I’ve hated him for a lot longer.  I forced my baby brother to hand him the car keys that ended his life; that is how much I hated him.  He’s been dead for six years, and I hate him to this day, to this very
second—
I loathe him.”

Nina faltered, averting her eyes.

“I hurt Chase beyond comprehension because I was blinded by that hatred, and we’re both still paying for it, six years later.  I took from Chase in more ways than one.  And all I could think about was never taking from him again.  Protecting him.  Protecting his inheritance.”  Jack bent down, trying to catch her eyes.  “If you’d just let me explain why… why I am the way I am…”

“I don’t need to know
why
you’re a terrible person, Jack.  I just know that you are.”

“The only reason I fought that case so hard was to protect Chase’s education.  His future.”

“And yours,” she corrected.  “You don’t get to play innocent here, Jack.  This isn’t just about Chase’s cut; this is about your cut, too.  Money rules the world, and you are no different.  God…” She pushed her hands into her hair, taking a step away from him.  “Did you know this whole time?  Is that the real reason why you followed me across the country?”

“Nina, I swear to you, I had no idea.  Not until the day you told me about Noah.  Up until then, I had no idea you were one of the mothers…”

“Right.  Because if you
had
known, you wouldn’t have followed me around like a sick puppy, kissing me, fucking me.  I guess it wasn’t enough that you destroyed my whole life, might as well throw some pussy in the mix, too, right?”

“It’s not like that.  It was never like that.   What we had was more real to me than anything in my life has ever been.”

“Nina!” a deep voice rang out from the stoop of Nina’s building.  Her and Jack’s heated eyes locked with a Hispanic man wearing a black bandana around his neck.  Even though he’d called Nina’s name, his dark brown eyes were riveted to Jack.  “Nina, you good?”

Nina sniffled, pushing her hair away from her face.  “I’m good, D.”  She met Jack’s eyes and nodded.  “Just don’t let him follow me.”

“Nina,” Jack begged, watching as she backed away from him.  The clouds and the sun met again, becoming so acquainted it seemed like evening had swooped in completely.  But Jack knew better.  He knew the light was still there, even though it was shrouded in darkness.  As she backed away, he went to follow her, but “D” and his two flunkies leaped to their feet the moment he took the first step.  Even as they stepped in front of Jack, surrounding him, Jack kept her in his sights.  “Nina, I
love
you!” he cried.

But she didn’t turn back.  Even as she walked away, he could see her, feel her.  He knew she was crying, probably hard, and it tore him up that he was the reason.

When D shoved him, Jack finally gave him his full attention, holding his arms up on either side of his head.  He knew the likelihood of getting jumped was pretty high, but as always, being in her presence—even as she was leaving his—left Jack nothing short of insane.

“I think it’s time for you to go, white boy.”

“Alright…” Jack fingered his keys out of his pocket and held them up, displaying them for their heated faces.

Even as he backed up, they followed him, and not until he turned away and raced across the street did he feel somewhat safe again.

“And don’t come back!”  D screamed, just as Jack climbed into his truck and tore into the street.

***

Halfway through a cup of black coffee, Jack glared out of the window above his kitchen sink.  The rising sun stung his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and bared it.  It was good practice, he assumed, for the fight he had ahead of him.

Shards of sunlight slicing his cornea were the easy fight.  Getting Nina back would be the real fight.  The only fight that mattered.  It had taken him a week to realize that he’d rather die fighting than continue living another day without her.

He gripped the countertop and gritted his teeth as the acidic black coffee burned his throat.  Some part of him enjoyed the agony of it.  Finishing off the last swallow, he dropped the mug into the sink, watched it roll back and forth until it finally stopped, and then pushed away from the counter, turning toward the French pocket doors of the kitchen.

He jolted in mid-step, and then stumbled back against the counter.

“Jesus Christ,” he spat, cringing toward the doors with wide, alarmed eyes.

Chase Almeida smiled from where he was leaning against the kitchen doorsill with his big arms crossed; his leafy eyes gleaming at his older brother.  He gave Jack a moment, licked his plush pink lips and then pushed off of the entryway with his elbow, taking slow steps forward.

“It’s great to know you’re alive,” Chase said, touching everything he passed as he made his way toward Jack—a dining chair, the kitchen table, the refrigerator, and the gas range.  “Thanks for calling, by the way.”

Jack rolled his eyes and turned away, squeezing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.  “I just needed some time, Chase.”

“Time…” Chase came to a stop, holding onto the edge of the island.  “Time to run all over the country with some woman you don’t know, without bothering to call your family and let them know you were okay?  We just wanted to know you were
okay,
Jack.”

Jack looked at Chase, and when he saw genuine agony in his brother’s green eyes, he frowned.

Chase shook his head.  “I doubt anyone was surprised that you left Kelly at the altar, least of all me, but that still didn’t stop my head from taking me…” Chase tapped his temple.  “To all kinds of places.  On all kinds of fucked up detours, Jack.  Hey,” he demanded when Jack scoffed, reaching out and hitting Jack softly with the back of his hand.  When Jack met his eyes, Chase raised his brows.  “Don’t ever do that to me again.”