“I’ll pass, thanks.” I tightly gripped the phone. It buzzed incessantly. “How about I meet you at your office tomorrow?”
Thomas leaned on the door. “Come on, Carlos. You look like shit and I bet you’re hungry. The least I can do is buy you lunch.”
As if he hadn’t done enough already. “How did you know I was coming?”
“Isn’t that the million-dollar question?” He smirked. “I’m ready to talk if you’re ready to listen. Last time you threw a temper tantrum.” He scratched his cheek where I’d punched him last December.
I wasn’t in the mind-set yet to meet with him. I had my own game plan. Plans Natalya and I repeatedly drilled through. Spontaneity wasn’t in the rule book, and neither was a tour with Thomas as the guide. I spun around, looking for the rental-car kiosks. “I’ll get my own car and follow you.”
“You have no idea who anyone is or where you should go. Get in the fucking car, little bro, or I call my buddy over there and he’ll put you back on the plane to Mexico.”
Near the door to baggage claim stood a man. He wore a golf shirt, casual pants, and wraparound sunglasses. He looked like any other traveler at the airport except for his demeanor. It screamed government. He watched us cautiously.
Fear coursed through my veins, turning me cold. I looked around the airport, the flow of cars in front of me and the deafening noise of a jet overhead, and I saw no other choice. Either we created a scene or I went with Thomas.
I dumped my bag at his feet as if he were a parking valet and slid into the front seat.
“I wish you would have called me. I’d have had more time to prepare,” he said, and slammed the door.
My phone vibrated again and Natalya’s face lit the screen. I tapped the red icon, sending her call to voice mail; then I powered down my phone. Hopefully she’d forgive me later. I also hoped it wouldn’t be the last time I recognized her face.
“Where are we going?” I demanded when Thomas sank into his seat.
He finished a text, tossed his phone aside, and pulled from the curb. “Lunch, and if you’re up for it, a trip down memory lane.”
“Not interested.”
“That’s a load of shit. Why else would you come home?”
“This isn’t my home, and it’s none of your business.”
Thomas stopped hard at a red light. I slapped my hand on the dash to stop my forward momentum.
“Where you’re concerned, it is my business. Your situation is my fuckup and I intend to fix it. Simple as that. Besides, we’re family. Aren’t you the least bit curious about your sons’ uncle?”
“Leave them out of this.” I yanked on the seatbelt I’d forgotten to buckle.
He glanced at me, then back at the road. “I bet you’re here to see Aimee. She filed a restraining order against me.”
My mouth twisted. Served him right.
“She and Ian recently married.”
“Good for them.”
Thomas stole a glance at me. “You don’t care, do you?”
I shrugged a shoulder.
He swore colorfully. “There’s no way in hell I want to be anywhere nearby when James finds out she married someone else. He’ll be out for blood.” He chuckled, humorless. “My blood.”
“Let’s hope for both our sakes that never happens.”
“How about Nick? Are you planning to see him, too?”
“Who’s Nick?”
He smacked his forehead. “Keep forgetting you aren’t you. He’s been your best friend since we moved here from New York.”
“How old were we then?” I asked before I thought better not to.
“You are curious.” He wagged a finger at me and changed lanes, slowing the car as we exited the freeway. “You were eleven. I was thirteen and Phil fifteen, maybe sixteen. Can’t recall.”
At the mention of Phil’s name, I had the sudden urge to flee. I gripped the door handle.
“He’s in prison for another five years or so. When he was indicted for laundering, he plea-bargained for a shorter sentence and struck a deal with the Feds to tell them everything he knew about the Hidalgo cartel. He’d be locked away for ten or so years otherwise. After the shit he put me through, I’d do anything to keep him there. That’s why I’m hoping James remembers what happened in Mexico. Other than that wound on your hip, I don’t have proof Phil took a shot at you. It’s his word against mine.” He nudged my upper arm. “Hey, man, you okay?”
“Pull over.” I blew out a breath, feeling light-headed.
“Lunch, remember?”
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Hang tight. We’re almost there. Barrone’s is your favorite. You always loved eating there.”
Fury punched through me. “What part of ‘I’m not interested’ about any trips down memory lane did you not get?”
Thomas held up a hand in surrender. “We’re just eating and talking. I’ll drop you off at your hotel when we’re done. I won’t bother you again while you’re here.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?”
Thomas chuckled. “Fair enough. You don’t trust me, I get that. But understand this: since we were kids, I’ve always had your back. I’ll never stop looking out for you.”
I thought of Julian and Marcus. They were five years apart and Marcus was still too young to play ball and hang out with Julian and his friends. But his face did light up when Julian paid attention to him, and his head swung like a bobblehead toy looking for his brother when Julian wasn’t around. Would they become closer as they aged? Would Julian stick up for his younger brother? I couldn’t fathom what life had been like between Thomas and James. I didn’t feel a familial connection.
Thomas turned into the restaurant’s parking lot and eased into a spot. Despite the urge to eat and run, Barrone’s was good. We stuck to neutral topics while we ate, with Thomas doing most of the talking. He told me about how he was rebuilding Donato Enterprises, acquiring new clients in Asia and South America. And he complained about how our mother had been on him to marry and procreate. Someone needed to take over the business when he keeled over. Then he asked about my art and sons.
I pressed my back into the chair and tossed the napkin on the table. “Is Julian my son?”
“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?”
“The adoption. Was it legal? Am I legal? You said my ID is real. How is that possible?”
Thomas glanced around the dining area, then leaned on his forearms and lowered his voice. “Your situation is unique. I couldn’t talk about it in Mexico and we really shouldn’t discuss it here, in public. But I don’t know how much more time you’ll give me, so here it goes.