Grace's Redemption, page 4
“Ohhh, Mateo,” Hope crooned in my ear. “That’s sexy.”
“Shut up,” I chuckled. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’m being summoned. Call me tonight, I need to talk to you about Dad.”
There was the pause I expected, and I smiled at Principal Briggs as she stepped out.
“Mateo what?” Hope asked, with the subject change I expected as well. “I’ll look him up.”
But her words went tinny in my ear as the man turned with the sweet smiling little girl twisting in his arms to face forward with him.
“Mateo,” I murmured in a pained whimper as shock ran through my chest, colder than ice water.
His left eyebrow rose as those hazel eyes that had been haunting me since I left Vegas landed on me.
“His name is Mateo Mateo?” Hope asked me as I lowered the phone without hanging it up.
“Miss McMasters,” the principal said, beaming at me with her “parent smile” and probably “really hot dad smile” if the way she ran her hands down her skirt as she kept glancing over at him was any indication. “You’ll have a new student in your class today. This is Olivia Beckett and her father. Also, our new police chief, Mateo Beckett.” She said it like he was the newly elected president and she was sucking up for the VP job.
“Olivia—Beckett,” I mumbled, unable to look away from his shocked eyes.
My husband’s eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mateo
Well, well, well. It seemed that fate had thrown me a bone and tossed little Miss Grace right back in my path. I’d failed trying to track her down after she’d ghosted me in Vegas . . . who knew there were so many Grace McMasters in Louisiana?
Damn, she looked totally different out of that tight little number and heels she wore in Sin City. But there was no mistaking those mysterious dark eyes, especially since she was staring at me like I was the Grim Reaper here to steal her soul.
I stepped forward, taking in the demure woman in front of me, wearing a conservative skirt, long, loose cardigan, perfectly sensible flats, her hair twisted up in a clip, and librarian glasses—the total opposite of the woman I’d met in that hotel bar. Anyone off the street would just see that chaste surface image, but I—I saw the way her soft top laid across her breasts. How that simple skirt teased those gorgeous legs. And with her thick dark hair up off her neck . . . fuck if I couldn’t instantly and painfully remember biting the sweet skin of her throat while I fucked her against a wall.
My daughter’s teacher. I’d fucked my daughter’s teacher against a wall.
After I married her.
Shit.
I blinked to clear my head and reminded myself that she’d bailed on me, leaving me with all the worry.
I offered my hand for the sake of propriety.
“Hello, Mrs. McMasters. Nice to see you.” I made sure to emphasize the Mrs. with a lift of my brow.
“I, uh . . .” She seemed to snap to and took my hand. “Hello.” Her gaze drifted to Olivia in my arms, her smile automatic and genuine, if a little shocked. “And hello to you, too. It’s Miss McMasters. You’re Olivia?”
I didn’t miss the way she emphasized the Miss or that she was no longer wearing her ring. Not that I was, either.
Olivia’s legs swung as she nodded. “Yes.”
“Well . . .” I felt Grace’s gaze slide to mine quickly before focusing back on my daughter. “How would you like to walk with me to class and meet the other students? We usually start the morning with a story. Do you like stories?”
Olivia turned to me in question.
I slid her down my body to stand next to me. “It’s okay, sweetie. Remember, we talked about this? You’re going to big girl school and I have to go to work.” I knelt down to look her in the eye. “You have a good day and I’ll see you after school, okay?”
Crocodile tears began to tremble in her eyes, and I knew for all her excitement about moving and a new school and new friends, she was scared, too.
“Do you want me to walk you to class?” I asked.
She nodded, her gaze locked on mine, looking way too much like her mother in that moment.
I glanced up at Grace. “Is that alright?”
She cleared her throat and offered a tremulous smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure.”
I stood and offered Olivia my hand. She grabbed ahold and we followed Grace out of the office after a quick goodbye to Ms. Briggs.
“It was nice to meet you, Chief Beckett,” she called behind us. “You let me know if you need anything at all.”
“Will do. Thank you.” I turned back to see Grace’s ramrod-stiff spine as she led us down the hall, Olivia pressed tightly to my side.
I didn’t say a word. I simply took in the sway of her hips, even in her lackluster clothes, and the irony of ironies that had thrust us together again.
She stopped outside of a classroom and paused at the door, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, reminding me again how much had changed in the blink of an eye. She knelt to Olivia’s level and smiled at her. “So, this is my room. I’m so glad you’re joining us. Do you want to go in?”
Inside, a few kids were already playing with what looked to be a young assistant teacher, but instead of studying the room, I let my gaze roam over the face that had been slipping into my thoughts night and day since she ran from my hotel room like I’d put a hit on her. She was still beautiful, but in a quieter, less complicated and understated way. It was almost as if she was hiding behind those sexy glasses and makeup-free skin. And I liked it. Probably too much.
I dropped my gaze to Olivia and ran a hand over her silky soft hair. “Okay, baby. Here we are. It looks really fun in there.” I brushed her cheek with my thumb. “You wanna go with Mrs. McMasters and try to have a good day? I promise I’ll be thinking of you every minute and I’ll be right here to pick you up when school gets out.”
She finally nodded and turned toward her new teacher.
Grace stood and opened the door to usher her inside.
It warmed my heart to watch her take a few tentative steps inside the classroom all by herself and explore the art table where another little girl was standing.
Grace watched with me for a moment, then moved to go inside the room without a word, as if I were just any other parent.
Oh, hell no.
I reached out and touched her arm. “Grace.”
She froze and hung her head for a moment before slowly pivoting to face me. “How?” she finally managed in a strained whisper.
I furrowed my brow. “How, what?”
Her gaze zipped down the hall as more parents, students, and teachers began to filter in.
“Felicity, I’ll be just one minute,” she called softly to the assistant, before turning back to me. She shoved past and indicated for me to follow her to a quiet corner near an empty room. “How did you find me?” she hissed.
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Find you? I didn’t. You didn’t exactly give me anything to go on, Grace.”
Her eyes rounded. “Then, how are you here? This doesn’t . . .” Her arms flailed helplessly. “This makes no sense.”
“You mean because you ran away from me like a coward?”
She went stone-still. It almost made me want to apologize for my harsh words, but I wouldn’t. Not when it was the truth. I could admit to my part in our stupid predicament. I’d also made it clear I was willing to take responsibility. I wasn’t the one who’d cut and run when I realized how badly we’d fucked up. That was all on her.
Her dark eyes finally lifted to mine. “I’m not a coward.” The words were slow and pained.
“No? Then what would you call it?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Because from where I stand, it was pretty damn shitty of you to run off like you did, considering our circumstances.”
“Our circumstances?” she echoed, her voice strained. “Circumstances?” She shoved a finger in the direction of her classroom. “How about the fact you didn’t bother to mention that you had a child?”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
Her face began to mottle. “She has everything to do with this!”
I took a slow breath. “No. She doesn’t. What’s important right now is that there could be another child involved, and you ran away from me before we knew for sure. Before we could even talk about the possibility.” I tilted my head and lowered my voice. “You had no intention of ever speaking to me again, regardless, did you?”
She said nothing, her gaze dropping to the ground.
“Grace?”
Her eyes were soft when she finally faced me again. “Are you married, Mateo?”
I reared back, shocked. I hadn’t expected that. Here I was, worried about her being pregnant and the fact that she’d run away from me, and she thought I was a cheating bastard. Good, God.
“Only to you,” I managed, ignoring how conflicted that made me feel in that moment.
She studied my face, probably searching for the lie. “Olivia’s mother?”
A flaming dagger sliced straight through my chest. I thought I was used to the ache by now. Apparently not.
“Gone.”
She frowned. “Gone?”
“Yes.” I rocked back on my heels and shoved my hands in my pockets. “So. Back to you, Grace . . . we need to talk.”
She drew her full bottom lip between her teeth, drawing my eyes there. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
“Well, then pencil me in, honey,” I said, dragging my gaze back to her eyes. “Because, this may be a crazy coincidence, but I used all the resources I had trying to find you and couldn’t. Now that you’ve been dropped here in front of me, we have things to discuss.”
“We already did,” she said, looking over her shoulder.
“Like it or not, Grace, we’re married,” I said under my breath. The words brought her head back with a jerk. “And possibly—”
“Can you stop with the possiblies, please?” she hissed. “I know. Dear God, I know.”
“Then you know that we have things to deal with,” I said, trying to keep my voice low, but it rose with each word. “Things that you can’t just run away from because they’re complicated.”
Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. “You seriously think I ran from complication?”
“Pretty sure I watched you do it,” I said. “Barefoot, no less.”
Her face flamed. “You have no idea what complication is, Chief Beckett,” she said. The bell rang overhead, making her flinch. “I have to go.”
“Guessing you know where my office is,” I said. “Has a big sign that says Police Station on it.”
“Got it,” she said tightly.
“My contact info is in the principal’s office, too,” I added, stepping into her space and gently pushing her glasses up before I could stop myself. She flinched and backed up a step, but I followed. “We need to talk about this, Grace. Sooner rather than later.”
“Fine,” she said under her breath, inching around me to head back to the classroom.
“Don’t take too long,” I added, wondering who was using my fucking voice.
Her steps faltered and her fists clenched at her sides before she disappeared into the doorway.
To teach my daughter.
What the hell had I done?
I straightened my tie, took a big gulp of air, and swallowed an even bigger dose of determination to get this shit right—for me and for Olivia—and headed into the building that housed my new office. I’d had a Skype meeting with the mayor and my deputy chief the day after he offered me the job, so I had more of an idea of what I was walking into, but I had a feeling I was still treading into uncharted territory.
I rode the elevator up to the third floor and the doors slid open, revealing a long hallway and the frosted double doors that read: Mateo Beckett, Chief of Police, Redemption, Louisiana, Est. 1884 in gold stencil.
Fucking surreal.
Most of the time, I still felt like the half-Spanish kid with a rebellious streak from the poor side of Bakersfield. Luckily for me, I had a mom who wouldn’t give up on me and I’d found a wife who didn’t either. Between them and my father’s uncompromising but loving discipline, I’d been molded into the man I was today. Someone I was proud of most days, recent events notwithstanding.
I shoved open the door and stepped inside, inhaling the scents of fresh coffee and lemon cleanser.
A gray-haired receptionist stopped tapping away on her computer and glanced up at me from over her glasses. “May I help you? The chief isn’t in yet.”
I smiled. “Yes, he is.”
She paused, apparently sizing me up as I moved forward. “You’re Chief Beckett?”
“Guilty as charged.” I reached her desk and offered my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
She looked down at my hand, then back to my face. “You look awfully young.”
I paused. I’d wondered if I might run into this problem. At thirty-six, I was one of the youngest police chiefs in Louisiana history as far as I could tell, but I’d earned it with my hard work on the force in Vegas. Nothing had been handed to me, and I refused to apologize for my age. In this case, I opted for charm.
“I could say the same.”
She blinked, obviously surprised—maybe a bit pleased—and took my hand. “Louise Boudreaux. Your secretary.”
“Hello, Louise. I’m glad to have you here to help me learn the ropes as I get settled in.”
She lifted a penciled brow. “I’ll be happy to do what I can, sir. And just to let you know, your first appointment is in an hour.”
“Appointment? With who?”
She turned to consult a calendar. “City Councilman Williams, sir.” She looked back at me. “Followed by the Rotary Club at ten, then a luncheon with the Redemption Chamber of Commerce. You have a few hours free after lunch, then a four o’clock—”
“Stop.” I held up a hand, my mind spinning. What in the ever-living hell was going on?
“Sir?”
“It’s my first day here. Who made this schedule?”
I saw a tiny chink in her armor as she actually seemed chagrined. “Well . . . I did, sir. Everyone was anxious to meet and welcome the new police chief and discuss business, so I made appointments. It’s what I did with Chief Bollinger, so I just assumed . . .” Her words tapered off, something in her eyes giving me a hint that maybe she wasn’t fond of her former boss and making me determined to get on her good side. “My apologies, sir. I guess I should’ve spoken to you first.”
“It’s fine. But can you reschedule them for some time next week?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great.” I headed toward my office, then stopped and turned. “And maybe not on the same day?”
She cracked the tiniest of half-smiles. “Yes, sir.”
I opened my door, flipped on the light, and took in the empty walls, desk, computer, and chair. The space waiting for me to make it my own. I took a breath, trying to remember that I’d chosen to take on the monotony of a managerial desk job for two reasons. First and foremost, the stability in a smaller town for my daughter. She was my entire world, and she deserved a good place to grow up in and a father who was home every night to watch her while she did just that. And second, because my good buddy, Gabe, had sold me on the fact that I could do some good here. The last guy in this position had gone down in flames for corruption and was currently sitting in a six-by-eight cell about an hour north of here in protective custody. And that was on the heels of his predecessor going missing without a trace. The mayor was suspicious that the two things were linked, particularly now that hard-core drugs were infiltrating the town. They were desperate for new blood to head up their law enforcement to hopefully get some control back so folks felt safe again.
So much for the sweet, family-oriented small-town picture I’d painted for myself.
I hadn’t fully assessed everything I was up against, so I didn’t know how impossible this mission was, but I was sure as hell going to give it my best shot.
And there was no time like the present to grab this bull by the horns.
I glanced back over my shoulder. “Louise?”
She looked up from her computer. “Yes, sir?”
“Call me Mateo.”
She nodded, something like approval lighting her eyes.
“And there are a couple of things you could do for me once you’ve rescheduled those folks, if you don’t mind,” I added.
“Sure. What’s that?”
“I need every file we have on the former chief’s criminal case, as well as everything there is about Mr. LaVeaux and his disappearance.” Her eyes grew big, but I pressed on. “Then I want you to get the deputy chief and every lead detective and commander under my jurisdiction up here for a meeting this afternoon.” I lifted a brow. “Tell them it’s not negotiable.”
Now she did smile, although her eyes looked a little troubled. “Absolutely, sir.” She lifted the phone, then glanced at me. “Mateo.”
A few hours later, my office door blew open, pulling me out of the file I was engrossed in. I blinked up at the intrusion and sat back in my chair, lifting my brow at the large man at the root of it. He had ‘pompous asshole’ written all over his smarmy ass, with his slick suit and even slicker hair.
Louise rushed in behind him, shoving her way in front. “I’m so sorry. He wouldn’t—”
I held up a hand to let her know it was alright, then shut the file in front of me. “How can I help you . . .?”
“Pittman,” he said. “Cyrus Pittman.”
“Okay. How can I help you, Mr. Pittman?”
Louise shot him a nasty look and huffed out. Clearly, my secretary was not impressed with the man.
