Page 17 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

His asking if Jimmy had hit her made a lot more sense now. He’d grown up with domestic violence and recognized the tendency in her ex. “Dire? Like…death?”

“Among other things,” Broussard drawled, going heavy on the Cajun.

“I think death might have been preferable to some of Larry’s threats.

He was a very creative man. Made his fortune by painting murals in his best friend’s office lobby in exchange for shares of the company.

When the company went public, they all became rich.

Larry started his own business and became even richer.

He always loved the Quarter, and when this house went on the market, he jumped on it.

Brought Mama and me here in that rusty old truck and my life was forever changed. ”

“Um…” She hesitated, then blurted it out because it seemed important to know. “How did your father die?”

He chuckled. “The look on your face. No, we didn’t kill my father—me or Larry.

Although I don’t think anyone would have blamed us if we had.

After Larry took us away, my father drank himself into a stupor.

Stumbled face-first into the bayou and drowned.

The gators had themselves a feast that night.

We had ironclad alibis, thankfully. His death was ruled an accident. ”

“Mercy,” she breathed, grimacing at the mental picture. It was, however, a fitting end for a man who’d terrorized his family.

Broussard shrugged again. “He was an awful man. Beat my mother nearly every day. She mourned him for a while, but I never did. I was just relieved that he could never hurt us again. Now, enough of my history. Come on in. I’ll give you the nickel tour before I go meet your first attorney.”

He grabbed a bicycle that had been leaning against an outer wall. It was the bike she’d seen in his office that morning. He brought it inside through a side door into what was a very fancy mudroom.

He opened another door and she found herself in a grand foyer with gleaming hardwood floors and a staircase that curved elegantly.

“The main livin’ room,” he said, pointing to two sofas, two love seats, several single chairs, what appeared to be an antique settee, and—

She laughed. “Is that your chair?” she asked, pointing to the brown BarcaLounger, which was held together with duct tape. A lot of duct tape.

He grinned down at her. “How’d you know?”

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t belong. I figured if you’d wanted it gone, it’d be gone.”

Someone coughed to hide a laugh. Val Sorensen stood at the front window, watching the street. “She’s right, Burke.”

“She is, indeed. Miss Cranston, the dining room.”

The table looked like it would seat twenty people. “Do you ever use it?”

“Yes, ma’am. For my team and their families. Just about everyone’s got a partner now and Val’s got two boys, her adopted son and her stepson with her husband Kaj. Molly’s sister is married to Lucien and they’ve got a little girl—Harper.”

“And Phin and his wife are expecting.”

His cheek dimpled. “They are. I’m going to have another godson.”

“What about Antoine?”

Broussard sighed. “If he’s got someone, he doesn’t say.”

She noticed that he hadn’t mentioned his own partner and she hoped that meant he didn’t have one.

It was a silly thought, though. She liked Broussard a lot and he’d held her so tenderly when she’d had the panic attack in the flower shop, but she didn’t belong in a place like this. With a man like him.

She refocused on his house. “How many bedrooms?”

“Ten. My uncle was hoping that my mama would remarry and fill this house with more kids.”

His tone had abruptly saddened. “She didn’t?”

“No. They died. Both my mama and my uncle. Plane crash. I was only eighteen.”

There was more to that story, but he looked so sad that she didn’t press. And then her mind was wiped blank when she saw the kitchen.

“Oh my goodness. It’s gorgeous.”

“My mama designed the initial remodel. Phin did an update a few years ago.”

“It’s incredible. He’s talented.”

“He is. Molly’s husband Gabe comes over to cook every now and again. He’s a chef. Says it’s a good kitchen, and he’d know.”

The kitchen had been fully modernized. “Do you cook?”

“Not really. Do you?” he asked hopefully.

She chuckled. “I make a mean macaroni and cheese from a box.”

“Me too,” he said. “I have a housekeeper come in once a week. She makes meals and puts them in the freezer. But this is the Quarter, so there’s always somethin’ delicious to eat.”

He led her up the stairs. “My study and a few of the bedrooms are on the second floor. The rest of the bedrooms are up on the third.”

She marveled at the sheer space. “How big is this place?”

“Just shy of ten thousand square feet. That’s the bedroom for when Joy visits,” he said, pointing to a door on his right. “It’s ADA accessible and I had a lift installed for her.”

Joy, his admin who used a wheelchair. The woman who’d interceded on Naomi’s behalf that morning. “She’s very kind.” And so was he.

“One of my best friends. I’m blessed.”

He seemed prouder of his friends than his house, and Naomi thought that said a lot. “No man is a failure who has friends.”

He stopped to study her. “Clarence from It’s a Wonderful Life ?”

“Yes,” she said, pleased that he got the reference. “My go-to Christmas movie since I was a kid.”

“Mine too,” he said softly. “Come on.”

He led her up another flight of stairs to the third floor, where the bedrooms were smaller but beautifully decorated. “Pick one.”

“Where is Everett staying?”

Broussard pointed to the door at the end of the hall, where a man stood sentry. “That one. That’s Harrison Banks, Everett’s bodyguard.”

Naomi approached the man, her hand outstretched. “Thank you for saving my son today.”

Harrison gave her a gruff nod. “My job, ma’am. He’s a…well, a teenager, isn’t he?”

“He is.” She’d missed a full third of Everett’s life. “I’m sorry if he’s rude. I’m not in the greatest position to address it.”

“I understand. Your mama seems to know how to keep him in line, though.”

“My mama? How do—”

“Naomi.”

Naomi turned to see her mother standing in one of the bedroom doorways. “Mom? What are you doing here?” James came to stand behind her and Naomi could only blink. “James?”

“We weren’t doing anything,” James said defensively, sounding like a teenager himself.

Broussard chuckled but said nothing.

“I’m glad you’re here, Mom, but…how?”

“I asked Harrison to pick her up,” James said. “I thought you might need her after the day you’ve had.”

Naomi opened her arms, and for a moment she and Ruthanne held on to each other. Then she took her mother’s hand. “Mr.Broussard, this is my mother, Ruthanne Cranston.”

“Pleasure, ma’am,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr.Broussard. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to see my baby girl. You have a beautiful home.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Now, I need to change my clothes. I’m meeting Mason Lord for dinner.”

“Thank you so much for everything,” Naomi said.

Broussard just dipped his head. “My room is downstairs on the left. If any of y’all need anything, just ask.”

Naomi turned back to her mother. “Have you talked to Everett?”

“A little. He’s determined to avoid you,” she added sadly.

“But he’s here. He’s safe.”

“We’ll keep it that way,” Harrison said.

Naomi could breathe again. “Then that’s enough.”

—

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Monday, February 24, 5:45 p.m.

Lucien buckled himself into the passenger seat of the firm’s SUV, his expression miserable. “I’m sorry, Burke.”

“Not me you should be apologizin’ to.”

Lucien shifted his gaze to Burke’s house, which now held five more people, including Harrison Banks. Naomi and her son had been given rooms, as had Everett’s grandfather. The presence of Naomi’s mother had been a surprise, but a pleasant one. She seemed as kind as her daughter.

Burke didn’t believe Ruthanne and James were really “just friends.”

Sylvi had decided to stay with Phin and Cora since she and Phin would be out most of the evening delivering flowers.

Val and Harrison were on guard duty, so Burke and Lucien were heading out to interview Naomi’s first defense attorney.

“I will apologize to Miss Cranston,” Lucien said. “I needed to be sure she was legit. You never accept a story at face value like you did hers. I couldn’t figure out what her angle was.”

Burke pulled out of his driveway into the busy street. The Quarter was always crowded, but this week and next would be insane with tourists.

“She’s the terrified mother of a threatened teenager? You could have kept your distrust to yourself and treated her like any other client, but you didn’t do that. You let her know you didn’t believe her, and that’s not like you, Lucien. What’s going on?”

Lucien sighed. “Chelsea hasn’t been sleeping and neither have I. Her former in-laws are trying to get custody of Harper. They’re saying that Chelsea isn’t providing a safe environment because of me and Molly, that our profession puts Harper in danger.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

Molly’s sister Chelsea was a damn good mother.

Yes, when Molly had come to work for him, Harper had been a traumatized little girl.

Molly, her sister, and her niece had left North Carolina after they’d learned that Chelsea’s ex-husband was sexually abusing Harper.

He’d attacked Chelsea and Molly, and Molly had killed him.

But after years of therapy, Harper was finally becoming emotionally stable. Burke hoped that the trouble her paternal grandparents were causing wouldn’t set her recovery back.

“We all know it’s stupid. We’ve hired a lawyer to help us. But Harper is afraid to leave the house again. She’s afraid her grandparents will try to abduct her.”

“Not gonna happen,” Burke said with a growl.

“Well, yeah. But when I saw that Naomi had fought for custody, I thought that maybe this was some kind of elaborate trick to get full custody of Everett.”

“But Naomi was willing to give up custody of her son to keep him safe,” Burke said, seeing Lucien’s point, but still confused.

“So she said. But what mother willingly gives up custody?”

“The terrified mother of a threatened teenager,” Burke said, repeating himself.

Lucien sighed again. “I can’t believe Mason Lord was in on a wrongful conviction—any wrongful conviction. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Let’s get through this conversation with Lord and see what’s what. And once we’ve sorted out Naomi Cranston, we’ll find a way to deal with Chelsea’s former in-laws. Nobody’s taking Harper away from us.”

“Thanks, Burke. And I am sorry. I let my personal situation get in the way of doing my job.”

“You did. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” And that was all Burke planned to say on the subject. Naomi was safe in his house, as was Everett. Harrison and Val would stay with them until Molly relieved them later tonight.

And of course Burke would be there, too, it being his house and all.

You’d probably volunteer for guard duty even if she was staying somewhere else.

There was something about Naomi Cranston that made his already heightened protective instinct rocket to the damn moon.

She’d been amazing, telling her story to André.

Naomi’s story was all too common—both the threat to her son if she didn’t comply with Gaffney’s orders and the unwanted sexual advances the bastard had made.

Burke really did want to rip the man’s head off his neck.

André had been trying to get the goods on Gaffney for a long time. Maybe, once Naomi felt safe again, she’d be willing to press charges.

But he wouldn’t push her.

“Why are you grinding your teeth?” Lucien asked warily.

“Not because of you.” He told Lucien what Naomi had shared with André.

“Now I feel even worse,” Lucien said.

Lucien’s guilt wasn’t going to help anyone, especially not Naomi. “Tell me about Mason Lord.”

“Good guy. Family man. His wife’s a schoolteacher and they have three kids.

Two girls and a boy. He’d already been with the prosecutor’s office for two years when I got hired.

He was my mentor. He and Brittney had me over to supper at least once a week in those days.

Now we get together once a month or so. His kids call me Uncle Luke. ”

Burke winced in sympathy. “I can see how you’d be unwilling to believe Naomi’s supposition. What will you do if she was right?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m still hoping she’s mistaken and that Mason just made a mistake. We both worked long hours when we were with the prosecutor’s office. Once he jumped to defense, he had more time. Or so I thought. He’s certainly doing better financially since he became a defense attorney.”

“Where are we meeting him?”

Lucien cleared his throat. “Broussard’s.”

Burke laughed. “You’re shitting me.” The restaurant that shared Burke’s surname had nothing to do with his family, but Burke dined there often because why not? Their bread pudding was to die for.

“It’s where we meet up for dinner when the wives are off doing their thing. Kind of an inside joke since I started working for you. We had a dinner all set up for tonight already, so I just ran with that.”

“Does he know why we’re meeting with him?”

“No. I figured I needed to see his face when I asked him. He knows you’re coming, though. I told him we needed his help with a case.”

“He’s going to be angry with you. Either way this flies.”

“I know. I’m dreading this.”

Burke didn’t know what to say, so he drove through the Quarter in silence.