Twenty-Nine
MJ sat with his dad, Beck, Rachael and Joan on the balcony of his dad’s downtown Atlanta studio apartment. The past few days had passed in a blur. He’d spent all of his time at the hospital with Maddie when he wasn’t asleep, or feeling guilty for keeping her awake. He couldn’t help it. He’d let too many days pass without feeling her naked underneath him. Without making her cry out his name.
Today Maddie asked him for some time alone with her dad at the hospital. He hated leaving her, hated that she needed space, but knew he had to give it to her. He was just glad he had Merrick and Rachael, hell even Beck to keep his mind occupied.
“I’m giving you one hour,” Rachael said, wrapping her arms around Merrick’s neck from behind his chair. “Then I’m taking you and you,” she pointed to Beck, “to the hospital to get checked out. So don’t get too comfortable.”
Merrick had resisted her urges for the past few days, but this morning when he flew Beck, Joan and Riley in to get some work done, Rachael declared she wouldn’t wait any longer and insisted Beck was getting his broken ribs looked at by a doctor, too.
“You’re not my woman,” Beck said, fiddling with his cello strings. “I don’t have to do what you say.”
“If you want me to let you play that thing for the anniversary party on the island you’ll do what I say.” Rachael grinned knowing she had him cornered. “On the condition that you actually get it to sound like a musical instrument instead of a dying goose.”
With a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth, Beck smirked and ran his bow across the strings making the worst sound MJ had ever heard.
MJ laughed. He never imagined hanging out with his dad and his dad’s friends like this and feeling so comfortable, like he was one of them.
Beside him at the round, glass-topped table, Joan shuffled some paperwork. “I can’t believe you’re making me supervise Riley and Jesse on the bandstand build. Those two would be lucky to build a birdhouse, let alone an actual structure.”
“Well,” Merrick said, “I have some news. You’re being reassigned again. The bandstand will be your last project at Turtle Tear.”
She dropped her papers and looked up, first at Merrick, then at Beck, finally to Rachael, and her eyes narrowed, accusingly.
“This is news to me too,” Rachael said. “I had nothing to do with whatever they have brewing.”
“Right,” Joan said, propping a forearm on the table. “What will my new assignment be?”
Merrick smiled. “You’ll be working for MJ on his first property.”
“What?” MJ said, gripping the arms of his chair.
“My exact thought.” Joan pushed her chair back and crossed her legs. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
Merrick took a sip of iced tea. “The first time I spoke to Rachael,” he said, “she told me the story of Turtle Tear’s founders.”
“Archie and Ingrid,” MJ said. “She’s been going on and on about them.”
Merrick laughed and took Rachael’s hand. “They’re the inspiration behind everything on the island,” he said. “When Rachael told me I had a son, I went a little nuts. I didn’t know what to do, or where to go. I should’ve come right to you, but—”
“But, being an idiot is part of your charm,” Rachael said, beaming at him.
“I’m glad you find it charming in addition to frustrating.” Merrick kissed her and continued. “I ended up calling Max, my lawyer and advisor. As I was talking to him, spilling this insane story of ours, it hit me and I knew what I had to do. I’d given Turtle Tear to Rachael, and I had to give a piece of the same history to you.”
Merrick slid a file folder off of the table and passed it to MJ. “The Weston Sugar Plantation, Archibald Weston’s family home. It’s about a half hour south of St. Petersburg, just outside of Palmetto, and it’s all yours.”
Shocked, MJ opened the folder with fumbling fingers and took out a photo. He studied the white-columned, antebellum plantation house. It was practically falling down. “It’s incredible. Is it safe to go inside?”
“It’s safe. Mostly.” Merrick pointed to the west wing. “I wouldn’t walk around in this section though. I’ll train you, teach you everything you need to know.”
MJ couldn’t stop staring at the pictures, then at Merrick. “I can’t believe this. Thanks, um… Dad.”
Merrick smiled and rubbed his hand across his stubble-covered chin. Watching him, Rachael laughed. “I think you’ve left him speechless, MJ.”
MJ pressed his palm flat against the file folder. “I’m the one who should be speechless.” He handed the file to Joan. “Looks like we better get busy. Restoring this place is going to be practically impossible.”
Joan shot him a condescending smirk. “I don’t know the word impossible.”
“She’s a pain in the ass,” Beck said, tightening a cello string, “but she’ll get it taken care of.”
“Riley!” Merrick shouted. “Now!”
After a minute, Riley came out of the sliding glass doors from the kitchen holding a bottle of champagne and a stack of clear plastic cups. He handed them to Merrick. “Am I getting reassigned to Beck now that he doesn’t have an assistant?”
“Do you want to work for Beck?” Merrick ask, popping the champagne cork.
“Your sorry ass isn’t working for me,” Beck said. “I hear you can’t even build a birdhouse. If you can string a cello there might be hope for you though.”
Merrick patted Riley on the back. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Riley sat down across from Beck and grabbed a pack of strings from him. “Who said I can’t string a cello?”
“I’m that bad to work for?” Merrick asked pouring each of them a little champagne.
MJ laughed. “Maybe you training me isn’t such a good idea.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. When he pulled it out and saw Maddie’s name on the screen, a surreal feeling passed through him.
They were off the island and she was still his. It hadn’t been a dream or his imagination. She came back to him. “Hey, Mads,” he said, answering.
“It was Enzo,” she said. “My dad’s awake. He remembers.”
“What?” MJ shot forward in his chair.
“The police have gone to arrest him,” she said.
Whoa. MJ knew his grandfather was capable of being cruel, but this was beyond his imagining. “I’m sorry, Mads. Tell your dad I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry. He’s manipulated you your entire life, too.”
Merrick leaned forward in his chair and nudged MJ’s arm. “Everything okay?” he mouthed.
MJ shook his head. “I’m coming,” he told Maddie. “I’ll be there soon.”
He ended the call and grit his teeth with his effort to hold back the slur of expletives that wanted to erupt from his mouth. “Mr. Simcoe’s awake. He remembers what happened to him. It was Enzo.”
Merrick pounded a fist on the table. “They’re pressing charges?”
“The police went to arrest him.” MJ let his head fall back and groaned. “I can’t believe my grandfather did this to her dad.”
“She won’t hold this against you,” Rachael said, coming to stand beside his chair. “I don’t know her well, but it’s pretty clear how she feels about you.”
MJ scooted down in the chair so his head rested against the back. “I just can’t believe after everything… this is like the cherry on top, you know?”
“Think they’ll find him?” Beck asked. “Enzo? From everything I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would sit around waiting for the cops to show up.”
“Nope,” MJ answered. It hadn’t even occurred to him, but now that Beck had said it, he knew Enzo wasn’t going to be arrested. “He’s the most manipulative bastard there is. He’ll surface someday, but not until this blows over.”
“Spoken like someone who’s suffered under his roof,” Merrick said. “I can empathize.”
“Let’s get to the hospital,” Rachael said, taking Merrick’s hand and tugging. “I’m sure Maddie could use the support.”
“You’re lucky you have this as an excuse to get me to the hospital,” Merrick said. “I hate being poked and prodded.” He pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her cheek and neck playfully.
“That’s what she said,” Beck muttered and laughed to himself.
Riley gave Beck a few exaggerated blinks. “Really?”
MJ got up and collected the Weston Plantation file from the table. “We’ll talk about this soon,” he told Joan.
“Can’t wait,” she said, giving him a thousand-watt smile that was anything but sincere.
“The Dragon Lady has sharp claws, Junior,” Beck said, wrapping an arm across his chest and grimacing in pain as he stood up. “Consider yourself warned.”
“I sink them in deep too,” Joan said, cocking an eyebrow at Beck.
“That’s no lie,” he said and winked at her.
MJ might never understand what those two had going on between them. Then again, he probably didn’t want to.
“Before we leave,” Merrick said, raising his cup of the forgotten champagne. “I’d like to make a toast to my son.”
MJ couldn’t help feeling like he’d reverted to being a six-year-old again when he longed to meet his dad, to hear Merrick call him son.
“I’m already proud of you,” Merrick said. “I can see so many qualities of a good man inside you. Determination, loyalty, a fierce protective streak and a heart that will get you into more trouble that you expect.” Merrick gave Rachael a knowing look. “But it will also lead you right to where you should always be. So, don’t ignore it.”
“To Junior,” Beck said, tossing back his two-fingers of champagne.
The rest of them swallowed theirs down and MJ let the unfamiliar but warm feeling of belonging sink into his bones.
“Okay,” Rachael said, collecting their cups. “To the hospital. Now. No more delays.”
MJ followed her and Merrick inside. The studio apartment was modern with high ceilings and exposed metal I-beams. The stark white walls were dotted with bright, abstract paintings. Charcoal gray marble floors spanned the entire space. Ornate, blown glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling and every piece of furniture was made with straight lines and metal legs. It was a culture shock coming here from Turtle Tear.
“Don’t screw up my instrument,” Beck called to Riley from behind MJ. “Keep your eye on him, Joan.”
“She always has her eyes on me,” Riley called back, mockingly.
Rachael grabbed her purse and had one hand on the doorknob when Merrick put a hand over his pocket. “Hold on. That’s my phone.”
Merrick took his phone out and glanced at the screen, frowning. “Hello?” he said. As he listened to whoever was on the other end, he looked over at MJ. “No,” Merrick said, “I’m not in contact with my father.”
The call was about Enzo. The police? It had to be.
“I’d be happy to answer questions for you. Right now I’m on my way to the hospital to visit Mr. Simcoe.” Merrick nodded as he listened. “Yes, my sister and her husband should be on their way home. They’ve been vacationing this past week with me and my family.” Again, Merrick glanced over at MJ, then reached for Rachael’s hand. “Nadia Montgomery, his granddaughter, might be able to locate him. I know for a fact she’s been in contact with him as recently as last night, possibly today.” Merrick dropped his head. “She’s my daughter.”
Maddie’s dad was incredibly stubborn. He wouldn’t let her help him do anything, including walking him to the shower down the hall. “All I have to do is push this IV stand along, Peach. I think I can manage that.”
“Fine. I’ll wait here.” She plopped back down in the chair beside his bed. He’d be released tomorrow and she had no idea where they’d be going. But, Coach knew a lot of people. She’d call him in a little while and see if he had any leads on a cheap place they could rent.
The phone beside Maddie’s dad’s bed rang. She picked the receiver up and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Madeline, it’s good to hear your voice.” Chills ran over her skin. Enzo Rocha. “The police are looking for you.”
“They won’t find me. But, I’ll always know where you are. The one who pushed and pushed until my secret came out.”
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“No, but you wouldn’t stay away from MJ. You didn’t take my warning seriously.”
“I’m not listening to another word.” She slammed the phone down, grabbed the business card the investigator had left and dialed his number.
After telling him about the call, he suggested hiring private security for her and her father until they could locate Enzo and get him into custody.
She couldn’t afford private security. She didn’t even have a place to live.
Hopelessness set in. She crawled into a ball in the chair and wept. She couldn’t even run away, because her father was in danger because of her.