There was no arguing with her. There never was. Changing tactics, Alex stared down Zack. “You watch out for her, Muldoon, and watch good. Because while you’re at it, I’m going to be watching you.”
“Sounds fair. Come by the bar anytime, Officer. First one’s on the house.”
Muttering under his breath, Alex stalked away. He turned once when Rachel called something out to him in Ukrainian. With a reluctant smile, he shook his head and kept walking.
“Translation?” Zack asked.
“Just that I would see him Sunday. Did you pay the bond?”
“Yeah, they’re going to release him in a minute.” Zack took a moment to reevaluate now that he realized she’d been kissing her brother that morning, not a lover. “I take it your brother isn’t too thrilled to see you tangled up with me and Nick.”
She gave Zack a long, bland look. “Who is, Muldoon? But since that’s the court ruling, let’s go get started.”
“Get started?”
“We’re going to pick up our charge, and you’re going to move him into your apartment.”
After spending the better part of a decade sharing close quarters with a couple hundred sailors, Zack gave one last wistful thought to the dissolution of his privacy. “Right.” He took Rachel by the arm—a gesture she tried not to resent. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any rope in that briefcase of yours.”
It wasn’t necessary to tie Nick up to gain his cooperation. But it was close. He sulked. He argued. He swore. By the time they’d walked out of the courthouse to hail a cab, Zack was biting down on fury and Nick had switched his resentment to Rachel.
“If this is the best deal you could cut, you’d better go back to law school. I’ve got rights, and the first one is to fire you.”
“Your privilege, LeBeck,” Rachel said, idly checking her watch. “You’re certainly free to seek other counsel, but you can’t fire me as your court-appointed guardian. We’re stuck with each other for the next two months.”
“That’s bull. If you and that crazy judge think you can cook up—”
Zack made his move first, but Rachel merely elbowed him out of the way and went toe-to-toe with Nick. “You listen to me, you sorry, spoiled, sulky little jerk. You’ve got two choices—pretending to be a human being for the next eight weeks or going to prison for three years. I don’t give a damn which way you go, but I’ll tell you this. You think you’re tough? You think you’ve got all the answers? You go inside for a week, and with that pretty face of yours the cons will be on you like dogs on fresh meat. You’d be willing to deal then, pal. Believe me, you’d be willing to deal.”
That shut him up, and Rachel had the added satisfaction of seeing his angry flush die to a sickly pallor. She gestured when a cab swung to the curb. “Your choice, tough guy,” she said, and turned to Zack. “I’ve got work to do. I should be able to clear things up by around seven, then I’ll be by to see how things are going.”
“I’ll keep dinner warm,” he said with a smirk, then caught her hand before she could walk away. “Thanks. I mean it.” She would have shrugged it off. His hand was hard as rock, calluses over calluses. He grinned. “You’re all right, Counselor. For a broad.” He climbed into the cab behind his brother, sent her a quick salute as they pulled away. “She’s right about you being a jerk, Nick,” Zack said easily. “But you sure as hell picked a lawyer with first-class legs.”
Nick said nothing, but he did sneak a look out the rear window. He’d noticed Rachel’s legs himself.
When they arrived at Nick’s room ten minutes later, Zack had to swallow another bout of temper. It wouldn’t do any good to yell at the kid every five minutes. But why in the hell had he picked such a neighborhood?
Hoods loitering on street corners. Drug deals negotiated out in broad daylight. Hookers already slicked up and stalking their prey. He could smell the stench of overripe garbage and unwashed humanity. His feet crunched on broken glass as they crossed the heaving sidewalk and entered the scarred and graffiti-laden brick building.
The smells were worse here, trapped inside, where even the fitful September breeze couldn’t reach. Zack maintained his silence as they climbed up three floors, ignoring the shouted arguments behind closed doors and the occasional crash and weeping.
Nick unlocked the door and stepped into a single room furnished with a sagging iron bed, a broken dresser and a rickety wooden chair braced with a torn phone book. A few heavy-metal posters had been tacked to the stained walls in a pitiful attempt to give the room some personality. Helpless against the rage that geysered inside him, Zack let loose with a string of curses that turned the stale air blue.
“And what the hell have you been doing with the money I sent home every month when I was at sea? With the salary you were supposed to be earning from the delivery job? You’re living in garbage, Nick. What’s worse, you chose to live in it.”
Not for a second would Nick have admitted that most of his money had gone into the Cobra treasury. Nor would he have admitted the shame he felt at having Zack see how he lived. “It’s none of your damn business,” he shot back. “This is my place, just like it’s my life. You were never around, were you? Just because you got tired of cruising around on some stupid destroyer doesn’t give you the right to come back here and take over.”
“I’ve been back two years,” Zack pointed out wearily. “And I spent a year of that watching the old man die. You didn’t bother to come around much, did you?”
Nick felt a fresh wash of shame, and a deep, desperate sorrow that he was certain Zack could never understand. “He wasn’t my old man.”
Zack’s head jerked up. Nick’s hands fisted. Violent temper snapped and sizzled in the room. The slightest move would have sparked it into flame. Slowly, effortfully, Zack forced his body to relax.
“I’m not going to waste my time telling you he did the best he could.”
“How the hell do you know?” Nick tossed back. “You weren’t here. You got out your way, bro. I got out mine.”
“Which brings us full circle. Pack up what you want, and let’s go.”
“This is my place—” Zack moved so quickly that the snarl caught in Nick’s throat. He was up against the wall, Zack’s big hands holding him in place while his thin body quivered with rage. Zack’s face was so close to his, all Nick could see were those dark, dangerous eyes.
“For the next two months, like it or not, your place is with me. Now cut the crap and get some clothes together. Your free ride’s over.” He released Nick, knowing he had the strength and skill to snap his defiant young brother in half. “You got ten minutes, kid. You’re working tonight.”
By seven, Rachel was indulging a fantasy about a steamy bubble bath, a glass of crisp white wine and an hour with a good book. It helped ease the discomfort of the crowded subway car. She braced her feet against the swaying, kept her gaze focused on the middle distance. There were a few rough-looking characters scattered through the car whom she’d assessed and decided to ignore. A wino was snoring in the seat behind her, his face hidden under a newspaper.
At
