Page 43 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

“It’s no hardship to be kind. You deserve it.”

Pleasure soothed some of the sting from his heart. “If Sylvi keeps the non-ex-con, you can come work for me.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I really do love working in the flower shop, but if I’m going to endanger Sylvi, I’ll stay away until it’s safe. Did Kaleb give you a time frame? Like, ten days without being shot at? Or a year?”

“No, but I’m not going to press him on it. A wise person told me to give him time and space.”

A soft whir had Burke turning toward the lift. It wasn’t audible during the day when there was activity, but tonight, in the quiet of his house, it was loud.

The lift door opened and Eleanor Jackson emerged, wearing a bathrobe that looked soft and slippers that shuffled against the floor.

Burke stood. “Eleanor, is everything okay?”

“It is.” She shuffled to the sofa and started to sit, but Burke stopped her.

“Use my chair. It’s got a lift feature.” He pressed a button on the chair and the chair rose vertically. “It’ll make it easier to get up again.”

She eyed the chair dubiously. “It’s covered in duct tape.”

Burke smiled. “It’s an old chair, but it’s comfortable.”

She lowered herself to the chair and made a contented sound when Burke lowered it to a normal seated position. “I’ve been meaning to get one of these, but I always think they’re for old people.”

Chuckling, Burke sat next to Naomi. She smelled like honeysuckle and the scent soothed him almost as much as her words had done.

Smiling, Naomi turned to him. “Why do you have a duct-taped BarcaLounger? I’m surprised your decorator let you keep it.”

“My decorator was Juliette and she did throw my chair away. I rescued it from the curb.”

“Juliette is his sister-in-law,” Naomi explained to Eleanor. “But it still doesn’t explain why you love this chair.”

“It was my uncle Larry’s,” Burke said. “When he passed, he left me this house and all of its contents. I had the house renovated a few years ago when a pipe burst.”

“I didn’t see anything about your uncle Larry when I googled you,” Eleanor said.

“He was a character,” Burke said fondly.

“More of a father to me than my bio dad, that’s for damn sure.

My father was a fisherman out on the Gulf.

We had a little shack on the bayou that leaked whenever it rained, which was a lot.

When I was thirteen, I told my uncle that my father was beating me and my mom, and he moved my mother and me into this house.

That was the year I met Kaleb and his family. ”

“Who is Kaleb?” Eleanor asked.

“Son of my uncle’s business partner,” Burke said, but his throat closed and no more words would come.

“He and Burke were close,” Naomi told Eleanor when he couldn’t speak. “Like brothers.”

Burke cleared his throat. “Kaleb still runs the business. He’s the CEO. I’m the president because Larry left the business to me, but I haven’t really been involved. Although I’m thinking that should change. I’ve saddled Kaleb with all the responsibility.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes and once again, Burke had the feeling she had it all figured out. Either that or she’d heard him talking on the phone from upstairs.

“Do you pay him well?” Eleanor asked.

“Very well.”

“Then he should be grateful.”

“She’s wise,” Naomi murmured.

“I really am,” Eleanor confirmed.

Burke smiled at them both. “Can I get you some coffee, Miss Eleanor?”

“No, thanks. I just wanted to come down to tell you that I’ve called my neighbors and asked if they’d be willing to talk to you.”

Burke sat up straighter. “And?” he asked.

“Six of them said they could meet after work tomorrow, but only if it’s somewhere secure and discreet. No offense, but they don’t want to be seen giving you information. The fire was bad enough, but seeing the wreckage is scaring folks to death.”

“No offense taken,” Burke said, trying to feel the same way about Kaleb, Juliette, and the kids.

“I think a few of them have information you might find helpful,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, good,” Naomi breathed. “Maybe we can finally start cracking this case.”

“Spoken like a true PI,” he teased, then turned to Eleanor. “Thank you. I hope you calling them hasn’t put them in danger.”

“I used a burner phone. That nice Antoine gave me one.” She gave them a saucy wink. “I feel so badass, using a burner.”

“You are a badass,” Naomi assured her.

Burke nodded. “We need to get you a leather jacket and a motorcycle.”

“The jacket will be sufficient. A motorcycle would likely kill me.” Eleanor hit the button on the lift chair, sliding to her feet once the chair was fully extended. “I’m going to get me one of these chairs, for sure. Maybe someone’s selling one on that Craigslist.”

Burke had already decided to get her a brand-new chair once this was all over and it was safe for her to return home. Because it would be all over. He was going to make sure of it this time.

“Sweet dreams, Eleanor,” he said and walked her to the lift.

“Thank you. You’ve made a bad situation bearable. You’re a good man, Burke Broussard.”

Touched, he watched her get into the lift and waggle her fingers in a goodbye before ascending to the second floor where she was staying. When he came back to the sofa, Naomi was putting her knitting away.

“I’ll go up to your office,” she said. “You can rest in your uncle’s chair.”

He didn’t want her to go. “Or you could just stay where you are.” He sat beside her. “If you want to snooze here, you can use my shoulder as a pillow.”

Naomi regarded him solemnly for a long moment, seeming to sense this was more than a casual offer.

Because it was.

“I’d like that,” she finally said and his heart settled as he stretched his arm across the back of the sofa. It settled even more when she laid her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Thank you, Burke.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” she asked.

“We can’t talk to Eleanor’s neighbors until tomorrow evening.

What will we do until then? Cresswell is dead.

” She’d paled when he’d told her what André had shared about Cresswell’s death, but she hadn’t seemed all that surprised.

“Winnifred Timms is dead. The Delgado brothers are dead. Who’s left to investigate? ”

He’d wondered that himself, but in a disjointed way he knew came from mental exhaustion. “There’s the couple who saved Harper.”

“Bill and Donna Burrell from Galveston,” she murmured. “Except their names are not likely to be Bill and Donna and they’re not likely to be from Galveston.”

“Antoine’s been trying to ID them through his facial recognition software. Maybe he’ll have some luck.”

She hesitated, then exhaled. “There’s the girl, the sixteen-year-old in the hospital who’s ‘coming around’ after the induced coma. She ID’d Pablo Delgado as her pimp. Maybe she saw something else.”

“You want to talk to her.” It wasn’t even a question.

“I do. Do you think they’ll let me?”

“I’m pretty sure they won’t. But your mother was a nurse in that hospital before she retired. Maybe she can put out some feelers.”

“That’s a good idea.” She yawned. “You’ll take me with you to see Cresswell’s wife?”

“I don’t want to. I want to keep you safe.”

“Please, Burke. I’ll wear a vest and a tactical helmet. Hell, I’ll wear a full suit of armor if that makes you more comfortable with the risk. But don’t tuck me away.”

Once again, he found that he didn’t want to tell her no. She’d demonstrated calm under duress. She’d saved his life. “All right. I won’t tuck you away. Try to sleep now.”

“I can turn off the light,” she offered, but there was a quaver in her voice.

“No, leave it on. It’ll be fine.”

And it was fine. It was very fine. So fine that he was starting to let himself wish for more.

With her.

“G’night, Burke.”

He gave in to temptation, brushing a kiss on her shiny dark hair. “Good night, Naomi.”

And when he finally went to sleep, it was with the scent of honeysuckle.

—

The Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 26, 9:00 a.m.

Naomi had been awake for hours, jostled out of sleep by Val’s giant dog, who’d lumbered down the stairs with Jace at six a.m. The boy had taken the dog out to the courtyard, under the watchful eye of Molly Sutton.

Who’d grinned at Naomi with unabashed glee upon finding her on the settee with Burke. They’d fallen asleep sitting up, her head on Burke’s massive shoulder.

Naomi had been comfortable, but Burke’s head was tilted at an angle that was almost certain to leave a crick in his neck. So she’d eased his body down, lifted his feet, and taken off his shoes before covering him with a light blanket.

Naomi had spent two of the last three hours in the quiet solitude of Burke’s second-floor study. She’d finished the pair of knitted knockers she’d been working on and started another.

She kept knitting as nearly all the adults in the house crowded into the study for a planning session. Antoine, Val, and Lucien had been joined by Naomi’s mother and James.

Eleanor was also present, Burke hoping that she might hear a detail as they planned and plotted, a detail that might trigger a memory. Perhaps something she didn’t realize was important.

Only Harrison and Chelsea had remained downstairs with the children. Harrison was on guard duty and Chelsea was supervising Harper and the three boys in kitchen cleanup after breakfast.

Even Everett was helping. Jace and Elijah had been good influences on him.

Naomi sat on the same love seat as the day before, her heart doing a little happy dance when Burke sat beside her.

“How much did you sleep?” Burke asked softly. He looked rested and calm, his eyes alert. He’d clearly benefited from a decent night’s sleep.

“More than I usually get. I don’t sleep a lot. Leftover from…you know. Guards would come by to do cell checks or one of the other girls would have a nightmare and scream. I used to sleep in two-hour blocks. Now I’m up to four.”

He frowned but didn’t say any more because it was time for their meeting to begin.