A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney #2)(42)
He yanked the comforter off and made his way into the bathroom. He sped through his shower routine and threw on the shirt and pants he’d worn the night before, having no other options. Despite its other luxuries, Palazzo Rhodes didn’t come with a spare set of men’s clothes.
He looked in the mirror and decided to skip shaving. For anyone who might be watching from a black sedan out front, Nick Stanton had just spent the night rolling around in bed with a smart, sexy woman and undoubtedly had better things to do this morning than shave.
Nick Stanton was a lucky SOB.
Nick McCall, on the other hand, had work to do, starting with a few phone calls. Including one in particular he dreaded.
He went downstairs to the kitchen, found an expensive-looking espresso maker that appeared wholly unused, then poked around and saw no other machinery in the house capable of producing caffeine. This brought about a round of grumbling about damn fancy rich types and their damn fancy gadgets as he sat down at the counter and called in to the office.
“We’ve got a condo for you in Bucktown,” Davis told him. “1841 North Waveland, unit three-A. It’ll work well for you—two bedrooms and an office, top amenities. Nice enough that it won’t raise any suspicions.”
“Can’t have Jordan Rhodes’s boyfriend slumming it now, can we?” Nick grumbled.
“I wasn’t thinking so much about the girl, more that a successful property investor such as yourself wouldn’t be slumming it,” Davis said. “What’s gotten into you this morning, sunshine?”
Nick grunted. Damn pesky questions. “Just haven’t had my morning coffee, boss.”
“Perfect. Because you and your girlfriend are going to make a run over to Starbucks so we can drop off your new house keys. There’s one located a couple blocks from Jordan’s house, at the corner of Barry and Greenview. Pallas will meet you there at ten—you know the drill. Got car keys for you, too—you’ll find a Lexus waiting in the parking spot of your new condo.”
“Sounds like I’m moving up in the world.”
“As they say, you are the company you keep,” Davis quipped.
When Nick hung up with his boss, he checked his watch. It was nearly nine A.M. in New York, which meant he had only a short window to catch his mother before she left for church. He steeled himself and dialed the phone number. Heck, he already had one woman mad at him that morning because of his job; he might as well make it two.
His mother picked up on the second ring.
“Happy birthday, Ma,” he said.
“Nick! What a surprise to hear from you,” she said in an overly dramatic tone. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Hold on—let me go into the other room.”
There was a pause, then she came back on the line. “Okay, the coast is clear. Your father still thinks I don’t know about the party. Are you at the airport? You should call Anthony or Matt to pick you up—tell them to bring you right over. Who knows how long it’s been since you’ve had a decent meal? I’ve already got a pot of sauce on the stove.”
Nick closed his eyes. She was making his favorite—penne arrabiatta. Just shoot him now.
No sense in delaying the inevitable. “Ma, there’s no easy way for me to say this, but . . . I’m not coming today. They put me on a new undercover assignment, and there’s been an unexpected development that means I can’t get to New York. But as soon as the assignment’s over, I’ll visit for a whole week. I promise.”
He waited. He could practically hear her thoughts.
Your promises aren’t worth very much these days, are they?
And it would be the truth.
“I understand,” she finally said. “I know how hard you work, Nick. Your job comes first. You do what you need to do.”
He tried to explain as best he could without getting into details. “This wasn’t something I planned. The case was supposed to end last night. You know that if there was any way I could make it today, I would.”
“Don’t worry about it,” his mother said in a short tone. “The family will be disappointed, but I’ll explain it. Frankly, I don’t think anyone will be too surprised you’re not coming.” She made some quick excuse about needing to finish getting ready for mass, told him to call soon, and hung up.
Nick set his cell phone down on the counter and blew out a ragged breath. Plain and simple, that sucked. He would’ve preferred she’d just yelled at him—that he could handle. But hearing the disappointment in her voice was tough.
He heard Jordan clear her throat from the doorway. He looked over, not having realized she was there.
She shifted awkwardly. “I overheard your conversation when I was coming down the stairs.” She walked over and took a seat in the stool next to his. “Your mother’s birthday is this weekend?”
Nick nodded. “Her sixtieth. My family planned a big party for her.”
“She was born the year after my mother. My mom would’ve been sixty-one this June.” She hesitated before continuing. “She died in a car accident nine years ago. Maybe you knew that already.”
Actually, he had known that from the file Huxley had pulled together. Jordan had been in business school at the time of her mother’s car accident. “Yes.”
“Granted, I’m a little biased when it comes to the subject of mothers. But I would’ve given anything to have been able to throw a sixtieth birthday party for mine.” Jordan held his gaze. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it home this weekend.” She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “What can I say? Xander’s an asshat.”