Waiting For Nick
Page 42
As she tried to soothe the bruises, clean the cuts, she talked softly. About Maria's children, caring for a new baby. When she felt Maria begin to respond, she sat again, took the woman's hand.
"There are places you can go. Safe places, for you and your children."
"She needs to call the cops." However fierce his voice, Nick cradled the sleeping baby tenderly on his shoulder.
"I don't disagree with him." Freddie picked up the wrapped ice, offered it to Maria. "But I think I understand being afraid. They'd help you at a women's shelter. Help your children."
"Nick said I should go before, but I thought it was better to handle it on my own."
"Everybody needs help sometime."
Maria closed her eyes and tried to find some tattered rag of courage. "I can't let him hurt my kids, not anymore. I'll go if you say it's right to, Nick."
It was more than he'd expected. He knew he owed part of the win to Freddie's quiet support. "Fred, upstairs, in the drawer under the kitchen phone, there's a number. It says Karen over it. Call it, ask for her, and explain the situation."
"All right." As she walked away, she heard Maria begin weeping again.
She'd hardly completed the arrangements when Nick came in.
He took a moment to study her—the slim woman in the elegant dress. "I'm going to dump on you, Fred. I'm sorry our whole evening is shot, and it's not over yet."
"It's all right, but I don't know what you mean. Oh, Nick, that poor woman."
His eyes only darkened. "I want you to take her and the kids to the shelter. They're not too happy having a man come around there in the first place. Small wonder. I'd feel better knowing you were with her, saw her settled in."
"Of course, I'd be glad to. I'll come back as soon as—"
"No, go home." The order snapped out. "Just go home when you're done. I've got something to do."
"But, Nick…"
"I don't have time to argue with you." He strode out, slamming the door behind him.
He had something to do, all right. And Nick figured it would take very little legwork to locate his old gang captain. Reece still ran in the same circles they had when they were teenagers. He still haunted the same streets and the same dingy rooms where a few dollars would buy anyone of any age drugs, liquor or a woman.
He found Reece huddled over a whiskey in a dive less than fifteen blocks from Lower the Boom.
The atmosphere wasn't designed to draw a discerning clientele. The air was choked with smoke and grease, the floors littered with butts and peanut shells. And the drinks were as cheap as the single hooker at the end of the bar, staring glassily into her gin.
"Reece."
He'd put on weight over the years. Not the muscle of maturity, but the heaviness of the drunk. He turned slowly on the stool, the sneer already in his eyes before it twisted his mouth.
"Well, well, if it isn't the upstanding LeBeck. Bring my friend a gentleman's drink, Gus, and hit me again. Put 'em both on his tab." The thought struck Reece so funny, he nearly rolled off the stool.
"Save it," Nick told the bartender.
"Too good to have a drink with an old friend, LeBeck?"
"I don't drink with people who shoot me, Reece."
"Hey, I wasn't aiming at you." Reece tossed back his whiskey and slapped the empty glass on the bar as a signal for another. "And I served my time, remember? Five years, three months, ten days." He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and pulled one out with his teeth. "You're not still sore I hooked up with Maria, are you? She always had a thing for me, old buddy. Hell, I was doing her back when you thought she was your one and only."
"A smart man learns to forget about yesterday, Reece. But you were never too smart. But it's Maria we're going to deal with. Here and now."
"My old lady's my business. So are the brats."
"Was, maybe." The wolf was in Nick's eyes now, as he leaned closer to Reece. And the wolf had fangs. "You're not going near them again. Ever. If you do, I'll have to kill you." It was said quietly, with a casualness that made the bartender check for his Louisville Slugger, just under the cash register.
Reece only snorted. He remembered Nick from the old days. He'd never had the guts to follow through on a threat with any real meat. "The bitch come running to you again?"
"I guess you figure she got off easy—a split lip, a few bruises. She didn't have to go into the hospital this time."
"A man's got a right to show his wife who's in charge." Brooding over it, Reece swirled his liquor. "She's always asking for it. She knew I didn't want that last brat. Hell, the first one ain't even mine, but I took her on, didn't I? Her and that damn little bastard. So don't you come around telling me I can't teach my own woman what's what."
"I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to show you." Nick rose. "Stand up, Reece."
Reece's reddened eyes began to gleam at the possibility of spilling blood. "Going to take me on, bro?"
"Stand up," Nick repeated. Seeing the bartender make a move out of the corner of his eye, Nick reached for his wallet. He pulled out bills, tossed them on the bar. "That should cover the damages."
The bartender scooped up the money, counted it and nodded. "I got no problem with that."
"You've been needing the high-and-mighty beat out of you, LeBeck." Reece slid off his stool, crouched. "I'm just the one to do it."
It wasn't pretty. At first blood, the hooker deserted her gin and crept out the door. The few others who inhabited the bar stood back and prepared to enjoy.
Drunk he might be, but the whiskey only made Reece more vicious. His meaty fist caught Nick at the temple, shooting jagged lights behind his eyes, and then another fist plowed into his gut. Nick doubled over, but as he came up again, his fist drove hard into Reece's jaw.
He followed through methodically, cold-bloodedly, concentrating on the face. Blood spurted out of Reece's nose as he tumbled back against a table. Wood splintered under his weight.
With a roar of outrage, Reece charged Nick like a bull, head lowered, fists pumping. Nick evaded the first rush, landed a fresh blow. But in the narrow confines of the bar, there was little room to maneuver. Outweighed, he went down hard under Reece's lunge.
"There are places you can go. Safe places, for you and your children."
"She needs to call the cops." However fierce his voice, Nick cradled the sleeping baby tenderly on his shoulder.
"I don't disagree with him." Freddie picked up the wrapped ice, offered it to Maria. "But I think I understand being afraid. They'd help you at a women's shelter. Help your children."
"Nick said I should go before, but I thought it was better to handle it on my own."
"Everybody needs help sometime."
Maria closed her eyes and tried to find some tattered rag of courage. "I can't let him hurt my kids, not anymore. I'll go if you say it's right to, Nick."
It was more than he'd expected. He knew he owed part of the win to Freddie's quiet support. "Fred, upstairs, in the drawer under the kitchen phone, there's a number. It says Karen over it. Call it, ask for her, and explain the situation."
"All right." As she walked away, she heard Maria begin weeping again.
She'd hardly completed the arrangements when Nick came in.
He took a moment to study her—the slim woman in the elegant dress. "I'm going to dump on you, Fred. I'm sorry our whole evening is shot, and it's not over yet."
"It's all right, but I don't know what you mean. Oh, Nick, that poor woman."
His eyes only darkened. "I want you to take her and the kids to the shelter. They're not too happy having a man come around there in the first place. Small wonder. I'd feel better knowing you were with her, saw her settled in."
"Of course, I'd be glad to. I'll come back as soon as—"
"No, go home." The order snapped out. "Just go home when you're done. I've got something to do."
"But, Nick…"
"I don't have time to argue with you." He strode out, slamming the door behind him.
He had something to do, all right. And Nick figured it would take very little legwork to locate his old gang captain. Reece still ran in the same circles they had when they were teenagers. He still haunted the same streets and the same dingy rooms where a few dollars would buy anyone of any age drugs, liquor or a woman.
He found Reece huddled over a whiskey in a dive less than fifteen blocks from Lower the Boom.
The atmosphere wasn't designed to draw a discerning clientele. The air was choked with smoke and grease, the floors littered with butts and peanut shells. And the drinks were as cheap as the single hooker at the end of the bar, staring glassily into her gin.
"Reece."
He'd put on weight over the years. Not the muscle of maturity, but the heaviness of the drunk. He turned slowly on the stool, the sneer already in his eyes before it twisted his mouth.
"Well, well, if it isn't the upstanding LeBeck. Bring my friend a gentleman's drink, Gus, and hit me again. Put 'em both on his tab." The thought struck Reece so funny, he nearly rolled off the stool.
"Save it," Nick told the bartender.
"Too good to have a drink with an old friend, LeBeck?"
"I don't drink with people who shoot me, Reece."
"Hey, I wasn't aiming at you." Reece tossed back his whiskey and slapped the empty glass on the bar as a signal for another. "And I served my time, remember? Five years, three months, ten days." He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and pulled one out with his teeth. "You're not still sore I hooked up with Maria, are you? She always had a thing for me, old buddy. Hell, I was doing her back when you thought she was your one and only."
"A smart man learns to forget about yesterday, Reece. But you were never too smart. But it's Maria we're going to deal with. Here and now."
"My old lady's my business. So are the brats."
"Was, maybe." The wolf was in Nick's eyes now, as he leaned closer to Reece. And the wolf had fangs. "You're not going near them again. Ever. If you do, I'll have to kill you." It was said quietly, with a casualness that made the bartender check for his Louisville Slugger, just under the cash register.
Reece only snorted. He remembered Nick from the old days. He'd never had the guts to follow through on a threat with any real meat. "The bitch come running to you again?"
"I guess you figure she got off easy—a split lip, a few bruises. She didn't have to go into the hospital this time."
"A man's got a right to show his wife who's in charge." Brooding over it, Reece swirled his liquor. "She's always asking for it. She knew I didn't want that last brat. Hell, the first one ain't even mine, but I took her on, didn't I? Her and that damn little bastard. So don't you come around telling me I can't teach my own woman what's what."
"I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to show you." Nick rose. "Stand up, Reece."
Reece's reddened eyes began to gleam at the possibility of spilling blood. "Going to take me on, bro?"
"Stand up," Nick repeated. Seeing the bartender make a move out of the corner of his eye, Nick reached for his wallet. He pulled out bills, tossed them on the bar. "That should cover the damages."
The bartender scooped up the money, counted it and nodded. "I got no problem with that."
"You've been needing the high-and-mighty beat out of you, LeBeck." Reece slid off his stool, crouched. "I'm just the one to do it."
It wasn't pretty. At first blood, the hooker deserted her gin and crept out the door. The few others who inhabited the bar stood back and prepared to enjoy.
Drunk he might be, but the whiskey only made Reece more vicious. His meaty fist caught Nick at the temple, shooting jagged lights behind his eyes, and then another fist plowed into his gut. Nick doubled over, but as he came up again, his fist drove hard into Reece's jaw.
He followed through methodically, cold-bloodedly, concentrating on the face. Blood spurted out of Reece's nose as he tumbled back against a table. Wood splintered under his weight.
With a roar of outrage, Reece charged Nick like a bull, head lowered, fists pumping. Nick evaded the first rush, landed a fresh blow. But in the narrow confines of the bar, there was little room to maneuver. Outweighed, he went down hard under Reece's lunge.
