up.”
Joey had just called Rambo his brother. Knowing that wasn’t true in the literal sense, she decided that he was definitely connected in some way to the mob.
He started to turn away, then stopped, his eyes fastening on Sunni’s cleavage…then on her face. Grinning, he said, “It’s been a pleasure seeing you. I look forward to next time.”
Dangerous or not—this man needed to know she wasn’t going to go down easy. And he needed to know there was more beneath her red silk dress than a memorable set of bubbles. She also had long legs that could run a six-minute mile. And she was no slouch on the firing range with her .22 automatic.
Chin raised, Sunni corrected him. “You mean meeting me, don’t you…Jackson?”
Undaunted by her challenge, his grin opened up. “That, too, Sunni.”
“What was that?” Jackson’s mother asked the minute he returned to his chair.
“What was what, Ma?”
“You were flirting with Joey’s girlfriend. Instead of ogling his lady, you should be pleased that he’s dating again and looking so happy.”
“Don’t you mean still alive and breathing, Ma?”
Lavina’s scowl sent her glasses to the end of her nose. “Jackson, your nasty side is showing again.”
He reached across the table and shoved his mother’s glasses back up. “Joe’s doing what he does best, Ma. What all the Masados do best. I accepted that a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I admit I worry about those two boys.”
“Joe’s got bodyguards watching his back. Lucky doesn’t need any. Don’t lose sleep over it, Ma.”
“What both of those boys need is their best friend showing them a little more compassion.”
“They need more than that, Ma. They need Frank shipped off to another planet so they can breathe some fresh air.”
Lavina Ward reached out and patted her son’s hand. “Joey looked good, though, didn’t he? So handsome in that shiny suit. Why don’t you get yourself a suit like that?”
“Because I don’t have two grand to blow, Ma.”
“That suit cost that much?”
“He’s Frank’s money machine, Ma. Remember?”
“What he is, Jackson, is your best friend.”
Yes, he and Joe were friends. Lucky, too. They had formed the Brotherhood when they had been three small boys with no last names, just watching cartoons and playing in his ma’s backyard. But then the boys grew into men. Frank put Joe in an expensive suit and Lucky on the street with a gun in his hand, and everything after that had gotten complicated.
Jackson still didn’t understand it, and he knew he probably never would. He was a cop and they were syndicate connected. And still they were his…fratelli.
He nodded to Joe as his friend escorted Sunni Blais out of the restaurant, half listening to his mother.
“I said, I wonder what happened between Joey and Sophia D’Lano. They were engaged for over a year, and then he just up and broke it off.”
“I heard Frank’s still trying to put it back together.”
“See, I knew you were keeping track of things back home.”
His mother’s smile was smug as a bug. “Okay, Ma, so I’ve kept an eye on Joe and Lucky from a distance. What of it?”
“Nothing. It’s just nice to hear, is all.”
Jackson leaned back and studied his mother. Her black hair had turned gray and she was sporting a few more age lines around her soft brown eyes. Still, she was a pretty woman for fifty-seven. Best of all, she looked happy. He supposed he owed that to Charlie. The retired military man had moved in across the street five years ago, and had been trying to attract his mother’s attention from day one. Recently, in their weekly phone conversations, she’d mentioned him with more frequency.
Attaboy, Charlie, Jackson thought—his mother deserved some happiness. She’d been alone for too many years.
Back on track, he asked, “Do you know Sunni Blais, the woman with Joe tonight?”
“Not before last week. She’s the woman the police are investigating in the Tandi murder.”
“Did she do it?” Jackson watched his mother’s reaction to the question.
“How should I know?”
“There’re rumors moving through here daily, Ma. You have to have heard something.”
“You can’t believe rumors, you know that. But after seeing her…”
“Go on.”
“She owns an underwear shop at Masado Towers, Jackson. You’re the man who moved to the sin capital of the world. I shouldn’t have to tell you that a woman as beautiful as that most likely wears the hundred-dollar underwear she sells. And that kind of expensive silk, dear boy, is made to be seen, not kept undercover.” Suddenly eyeing her son’s head, she said, “You’ve cut your hair. What prompted that?”
“The heat.” It wasn’t a lie. Still, he wouldn’t mention he was having boss trouble or she’d start pestering him about moving back to Chicago where he belonged.
She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest to study her son. “It looks good. You look like your father.”
It was still hard to talk about his father’s death and the dark years prior to it. His father’s diabetes had been a nightmare for all of them. “How’s the knee, Ma?”
“Like new.” She swung her leg out from under the table to show him how easily her knee could move without pain.
When she’d had surgery a year ago, Jackson had returned to Chicago for a week. That had been the one and only time he’d been back since he’d relocated to New Orleans.
“Tell me about your partner.”
Jackson hadn’t mentioned Mac to his mother, outside the fact that he had a new partner. She still didn’t know he was a dog. “Mac made the trip with me.”
“Then this is a field assignment, not a vacation?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“You guess? Either it is or it isn’t, Jackson.”
“Okay, Ma, it’s work related.” His mother was studying him with one raised eyebrow. “What?”
“This assignment, can you talk about it?”
“It has to do with the Tandi murder, Ma. But that’s not for public discussion, okay?”
