She raised her hand to lightly touch his cheek. “Was it just the two of you?”
“It was.” His eyes grew distant as he became lost in his memories. “My dad had walked out when I was just a baby. He wanted a wife who’d stay home and take care of him and his kids, not a woman who was dedicated to her career.”
She wrinkled her nose. Jerk.
“Did the shooting happen on the street?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, we were in the restaurant waiting for our order when a man came in to rob the place.”
“Oh, Griff.” She cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand, her heart twisting with sympathy.
“It might have been just another robbery, but the man was high on crack, and when a waiter came out of the kitchen the movement startled him.” She felt the tremor that shook his body. “He started shooting around the room.”
“And your mother was hit?”
“Everyone screamed and fell to the floor.” His lips twisted. “Everyone except my mother.”
Carmen could visualize the scene. The panic. The cries for help. The frantic attempts to get low to the ground.
And the woman who was trained to react during times of crisis.
“The cop,” she said softly.
“Always the cop.” His jaw tightened. “She charged forward and took the man down. His weapon discharged and caught her in the chest.”
She flinched. “And you watched it happen.”
“Yes.” His voice sounded far away. “I was angry for a long time.”
“No one would blame you,” she assured him. “I hope they put the bastard away for life.”
He gave a shake of his head. “I wasn’t angry with the shooter.”
“You weren’t?”
“He was a pathetic junkie who had no idea what he was doing,” he said. “I was angry with my mother for not saving herself like everyone else in the room. And with myself for not stopping her.”
Her heart melted. Not just with sympathy for a boy who’d watched his mom die. But with gratitude.
His story hadn’t only assured her that she wasn’t alone in her grief, but his words forced her to consider her own anger. And how she’d allowed it to taint the memories of her childhood.
It hadn’t all been bad. In fact, most of her younger years had been filled with happiness.
She should cherish those times. Not try to suppress them.
“Your mother couldn’t have done anything else,” she said. “That’s the reason she became a cop.”
“I’m learning to accept that.” His gaze swept over her face. “Just as you have to accept there was nothing you could have done to protect your mother.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
He lowered his head to press his lips against her forehead. “I promised I would be at your side.”
She briefly leaned against him, accepting that the walls she used to protect herself were crumbling.
“Where did you go after your mother died?”
“To my father.”
“That must have been difficult,” Carmen said, instantly regretting her stupid words.
“That’s one way of putting it,” he said dryly. “We were complete strangers, and to make matters worse, he had a new family. I was little more than an unwelcome intruder into their home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I survived. I had my computer. And every summer I spent a few weeks with my grandparents.”
“And now you have Rylan?” she said.
A smile instantly curved his lips. “Yes. And his new wife, Jaci. They’re a part of my family now.”
She was happy for him. She truly was. Griff clearly deserved to be surrounded with loyal, supportive friends. But she was also just a little envious.
Unlike Griff, she hadn’t reached out to create a new family. Instead, she’d convinced herself that it was better to keep herself isolated.
If you didn’t care about anyone, they couldn’t hurt you.
Her lips parted, but before she could speak there was the sound of sharp footsteps. She turned to watch her uncle march into the kitchen, his face familiar despite the deepened lines and touch of gray in his light brown hair.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but—” His angry words dried on his lips as his eyes abruptly widened. “Carrie? Is it really you?”
Chapter Eleven
Griff allowed Carmen to pull away, his gaze locked on the man he assumed was Lawrence Jacobs.
He reminded Griff of a square. A short, broad body that was currently clothed in a casual sweater and charcoal slacks. A block-shaped head with brown hair dusted with silver, and blunt features. His eyes were a pale blue that remained cold as they stared at his only niece.
He looked like the kind of guy who went around telling everyone how important he was.
“Hello, Lawrence.” Carmen filled the sudden silence, her voice steady.
Griff smiled with pride while Lawrence managed a grimace.
“My dear. This is such a surprise,” he breathed.
Carmen shrugged. “I happened to be in town and it seemed rude not to stop by.”
“Of course. Of course.” Lawrence cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to Griff. “And you are?”
Griff stepped forward and held out his hand. “Griffin Archer.”
Lawrence clasped his fingers in a firm grip, his expression puzzled.
“Why is that name familiar?”
Griff pulled his hand free and stepped back to stand next to Carmen.
“I own a tech firm.”
“Archer,” Lawrence said slowly, and then he snapped his fingers. “Tyche Systems, right?”
Griff nodded. Tyche Systems was the corporate branch of his business. It was more lucrative than the government contracts, but not nearly as interesting.
“Yes.”
A restless greed flared through the older man’s eyes. No doubt his brain was busy trying to decide how he could take advantage of Griffin Archer standing in his kitchen.
“We just installed your latest security software for our office.”
“Good to hear.”
Easily sensing Griff ’s lack of interest in discussing business, Lawrence returned his attention to his niece. He pasted a stiff smile to his lips, shifting uneasily.
The older man was clearly nervous.
But why?
A question that Griff fully intended to have answered before he left Louisville.
“Yes, well. What a pleasant surprise.” Lawrence glanced over his shoulder. “Your aunt will be down shortly. Preparing for the holidays has been exhausting for her.”
Carmen’s smile was equally strained. “Are Matthew and Baylor here?”
Lawrence turned back, his fingers drumming against the side of his leg.
“They have their own apartments in Louisville, but we’re expecting them to spend the next couple of days here,” he said. “It’s a family tradition.”
An awkward silence filled the kitchen. Griff folded his arms over his chest, saying nothing. He wanted to get Lawrence alone before he asked the questions that were on the tip of his tongue.
“The house hasn’t changed much,” Carmen finally said.
“No.” Lawrence glanced around the kitchen. “I wanted to keep it the same. It’s all I have left of my parents.” He paused, then continued. “And Stuart.”
Stuart Jacobs. Carmen’s father.
She flinched, but with a grim determination she maintained command of her composure.
“You have a new housekeeper,” she said.
Lawrence nodded. “Unfortunately, Ellen died last year,” he said. “Cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So were we.” The older man’s tone sounded more annoyed than regretful. “We’ve had a devil of a time trying to replace her. I believe the current woman is our third in the past six months.”
Griff glanced toward Carmen in time to catch her grimace. Clearly, she was disgusted by the man’s selfish reaction to his servant’s tragic death.
“Is Andrew still here?” she asked.
“Yes, thankfully. He tends to the grounds and acts as our chauffeur when we need him.”
Carmen nodded, pretending to scour her memories. “Didn’t they have a son?”
“Yes.” Lawrence shrugged. “I really don’t know much about him.”