He watched the play of emotions across Courtney’s face, waited to see how she would respond. She met his gaze across the distance, tried to look calm and collected when her discomfort was leaking around the edges in a big way. “Is it possible to explain how I should proceed, Marc? Point me in the right direction, so I know what I’m looking for.”
Is it possible?
Looked like Anthony wasn’t the only diplomat at the table. Courtney gave Marc an out even though she walked a tightrope among loyalty to his mother, desperation to track down her missing kid and looking herself in the mirror. She handled the pressure fairly well, considering she had already asked him this question.
When he replied, he addressed the whole table. “Frankly, I’m disturbed by the way all of you are trying to muscle Courtney and me into doing what you want. I shouldn’t have to defend my decision. I’m the one who would be doing the work, and since not a one of you knows what tracking someone involves, I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what I should be doing. And you definitely shouldn’t be manipulating Courtney.”
His mother scowled, but Marc’s rant had the desired effect—for all of ten seconds the entire kitchen went silent. Then, in that moment of breathless pause, the security alarmed beeped when the front door opened.
“Uncle Vince,” Violet squealed from the living room.
There was a muffled reply and laughter before footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Everyone was still staring at Marc when Vince appeared in the doorway, looking like a younger male version of everyone else around the table, only dressed as if he’d come straight from making rounds at the hospital in his jacket and tie.
“Hey, everyone.” He waved, oblivious to the scene he’d stepped into. “Hope you saved some food for me. I’m starving.”
His mother was already on her feet, closing the distance and giving her youngest son a hug. “You’ll never starve in your mama’s kitchen, cutie.”
Vince smiled dutifully when she pinched his cheek.
“Come on, let’s get you a plate.” She was already on her way to the counter. “Courtney, will you please make some room on the table? That’s right. Scoot the salad bowl back. Vince will fit next to you now that Marc has run off Tess.”
“Will do.” Courtney looked grateful to get out from beneath the spotlight.
His mother piled a plate with everything from the counter, then headed back to the table. “Come on and eat, Vince. You’ll need energy to talk some sense into your brother.”
Vince shrugged off his jacket and wedged in between Courtney and Anthony. “Which brother?”
“Marc.” There was a “Who else?” in there.
Marc could see where this was headed. He steadied himself on the table while maneuvering his leg.
His mother kicked off the debate as Marc tried to make his getaway. “Courtney needs help locating a missing child,” she said. “But Marc won’t help her because he says he should be healing, not working. As his doctor, what do you say?”
Vince technically wasn’t Marc’s doctor. Not that he hadn’t been dispensing medical advice since the accident. He had overseen every course of action, handled the medical decisions when Marc hadn’t been coherent enough to understand his choices and make decisions. Now Vince spooned grated cheese over his pasta and played Monkey in the Middle.
He could go either way on this. He was even-tempered and comfortable in his role as family baby. He wasn’t a pain in the ass like Damon or a bully like Nic or a backstabber like Anthony. He was a mama’s boy by default, and that would count. But it also counted that Marc had spent the past decade helping to finance that expensive medical education, keeping a roof above Vince’s head, a car under his ass and making the loan payments that couldn’t be deferred.
Vince must have been thinking the same thing. “Without you I would have never made it through school, so you’ll get perks as long as you want them because I appreciate everything you’ve done. Helping Courtney is just what the doctor orders.”
“Keep your perks to yourself, doc.” Marc shoved up from the table, leaning heavily on the cane. He was done.
Vince frowned. Their mother hovered behind him, patting his shoulder consolingly. She cut Damon dead with a sharp, “You better think twice before you open that mouth.”
Damon’s mouth snapped shut before he uttered a word, taking their mother’s advice for once.
This damned family. Marc was done with being at their mercy.
Levering his weight onto his cane, he stood. For one shining moment, he felt some semblance of control, empowered almost, as he stared down at everyone seated before him, waiting expectantly for his next move.
“Courtney,” he said, and met her surprised gaze. “You’ll provide a place to work and transportation.”
Her eyes widened, but she nodded.
“And pay my premium?”
She didn’t even blink. “Yes.”
Marc wasn’t surprised. She came from money. Otherwise she would wait for the FBI like most law-abiding citizens. He chased people like her—the ones with enough money to think rules didn’t apply to them. They broke laws, and if they were stupid enough to get caught, they had the means to try to escape paying the price.
Those were the skips he brought to justice.
This case would be different, but given his present circumstances...
Marc motioned to the door. “Then you’re on. Let’s go.”
He began his trek across the kitchen. He headed down the hallway and didn’t stop until he got to the front door. He didn’t need anything. Not his wallet. Not money. Not a damned house key.
The spare was kept under the porch swing if he needed to get in when his mother wasn’t home. Courtney could drive him if he did. His cell phone and painkillers were in his pocket.
All he needed was out of this house.
* * *
“GO, GO, GO!” Mama said urgently under her breath.
Courtney stood and reached for her plate, unsure. “That was coercion. You all were merciless.”
“Just another day in the DiLeo house.” Vince shrugged and dug his fork into the pasta.
“Better hurry or Gimpy might get away.” Anthony gestured that she follow.
“Leave the plate,” Mama commanded. “Go.”
So Courtney could face the resentful man who’d been bullied into helping her? Why had this seemed like a good idea again?
Hurrying from the kitchen, she saw the door wide open and Marc making his way across the yard. From behind, he could have been any one of his brothers, any one of the broad-shouldered, tawny-haired Italian boys with the big laughs and bear-hug welcomes.
Except for the cane. And the attitude. And the fact that she actually liked all the other DiLeo brothers.
Marc must have heard her approach because he said, “Can you get to your car?”
“I’m parked on the street.”
“The Mini Cooper, right?” His tone made it clear he wouldn’t have expected anything else.
She quickly realized he would have trouble getting in and out of her small vehicle with a leg that didn’t bend easily. Covering the distance between