Chapter Two: Rebuilding the Foundation
Lieutenant Greg Parker sighed as he entered his office on Monday morning. He hadn't been able to discuss either the lease or the ritual spell with Lance, but given how delicate the situation was, well… It was just going to take time. Especially once he added in all the other human factors to be considered. Virtually the entire SRU, plus their 'extended family'. And Marina. But for once since she'd reappeared in his life, Marina was taking a backseat to any and all other considerations. Even when he managed to convince his nipotes he loved them just as much as he loved Dean, he still had to deal with the fact that Marina had, with full knowledge of the consequences, triggered Lance's idiotic ritual spell. He also had to find out what she'd planned for his nipotes; whatever it was, neither Lance nor Alanna were eager to tell, another sign he had a long way to go if he wanted to regain their trust.
Once he closed the door, Greg set his nephew's notebook down on the desk, eyeing the letter and the lease tucked inside. He'd come armed for any possible complications, but if he could get a few second opinions on the lease, well…that would be welcome. Reaching out, he snagged both of the prior two weeks' problem photos, inspecting them with a critical eye. The unbalanced picture was restored; his nipotes grinned at him from the side of the frame that had gone blank after the ritual activated. Little wonder that the photo had been nagging him so much; the obvious imbalance had just been another goad to his subconscious, forcing him to admit that his world was wrong, even if he hadn't been able to figure out why.
The museum photo hadn't changed at all and he couldn't help the guilt as he stared at the trio pictured. He'd ignored his kids, refusing to hear their concerns or even the concerns of those outside his family. And this was the consequence: he hadn't even realized his nipotes weren't in the picture until he'd gotten it to his office, long after it was too late to make a difference. If he'd made a stand at the museum – or even earlier – could he have headed off the ritual? He would never know, but the question joined a host of others that would haunt him for quite some time.
At the knock on his door, he turned his head, registering Eddie's presence inside his heart. Rather than speak, he tapped against the 'team sense', wordlessly conveying permission to enter. By the time he heard the hinges creak, his attention was back on his two photos. "Greg? Everything okay?"
"No." Well, that answered the question of whether he'd have to 'remind' everyone about his nipotes. Or… Parker gazed down at the two photos, then lifted one and silently passed it to Ed, closing his eyes as he waited for the explosion.
"Greg, you already showed me this…" At the trail off, the lieutenant braced for impact. Then the other man swore. Loudly, repeatedly, and in multiple languages, finally snarling, "I am going to kill her."
"Ed, stop," Parker ordered, turning to pin his friend with fierce topaz. "This one time, it was not Morgana le Fay."
About to whirl, Ed froze, his head snapping back to his boss. "You know who did this?" he demanded.
"It affected me," Greg pointed out. "Morgana couldn't do that, not even with all the power she put into her spell."
Team One's Sergeant was no fool. Blue narrowed in thought. "She has the wrong type of magic."
"Yes."
"Then who did it?" Ed hissed, still outraged. "Revan?"
Greg's jaw pulled into a sardonic grin. "Revan? Revan has less Wild Magic than I do. He might have the academic knowledge, but I don't think he could pull something like this off." Hmmm…that meant Revan had to be added to his suspect list for who Lance had gone to; an Unspeakable might well have been able to help Lance craft his ritual spell, though why was an open question, particularly since the SRU's magic-side involvement hadn't been affected.
Horror overrode the fury and Ed recoiled. "You're not saying… The kids did this themselves?"
Parker swallowed hard and nodded. "Lance called it a ritual spell. He's the one who came up with it, but Alanna went along with him."
"Why? Why would they do that?"
Hazel dropped his desk in guilt and Greg set the photo from the museum down in favor of Lance's notebook. Opening up the front cover, he retrieved the letter his nephew had left for him to find. "Lance left this in the gun safe I use for my personal weapon."
Ed took the letter, frowning in confusion. While he read through it, Parker leaned against the desk, watching his Sergeant's expression. The freeze, the razor-sharp intensity even as fresh horror swirled, followed by anger, though Greg wasn't sure who it was directed at. By the time Lane lowered the paper, his expression had gone shuttered, breathing so forcibly steady it had to be his sniper training. "So they did this just because they weren't getting along with Marina? What are they, nuts? What kid ever gets along with the new spouse?"
Greg shook his head. "It would help if said new spouse hadn't started it," he countered. "It would help if the guardian involved hadn't spent the past few months ignoring any and all attempts to bring this situation to his attention."
"You're blaming yourself for this?" Ed demanded, tone sharp.
Parker shifted, picking up the museum photo and turning it so his friend could see. "Two photos, Eddie. One changed, the other didn't. Tell me why."
"I see why it didn't, Greg, but this is not your fault."
"Technically speaking, you're correct," Greg agreed. "Technically speaking, the fault belongs solely to Lancelot, since he's the one who crafted and cast the ritual spell." Serious hazel regarded his Sergeant. "Forget technical, Ed; if Clark ran away on you because he felt like Izzy was getting all the attention and he was being ignored, who would you blame?"
The taller man squirmed, but nodded reluctantly. "Tell me you're not just trying to divert blame from him."
"Ed, I'm angry, too. I would've preferred it if they'd both simply run away and this spell thing had never happened, but it did and now we all have to deal with the fallout." The stocky officer paused, considering his next statement as his gaze drifted back to his nephew's notebook. "But read the back of that thing."
He heard a rustle as Ed turned the page over and waited for his friend to sputter at the first line. Out loud, he said, "We pray for our sorrows to end and hope that our hearts will blend."
"I see it, Boss."
Greg blinked, turning in surprise. "That ended up on there?"
"Yeah. You didn't read it?"
He shook his head. "No. When I read the first line, I heard the second in my mind."
Eddie whistled low. "What is this, a chain spell?"
"Probably," Greg admitted, glum. "The last line is the release phrase, but even getting the first line required using my magic." And praying as hard as I could for a way to break the spell.
The sniper lowered the paper, expression serious. "They both ran away."
"Yes."
"So, what you found this and then you found them?"
Greg's throat tightened. "Not exactly." One hand touched his nephew's notebook. "I'd rather do that all at once, Eddie."
"But it was bad?"
Involuntarily, his fists clenched. "Ed, if I ever find out who put them in that situation, you may have to arrest me before I commit murder."
"No, I won't," Ed retorted. "You're mad, but you wouldn't risk losing them again. Not after you just got them back."
Point. Parker's eyes dropped to his desk again. "Let me know when your team is all here, Ed. They'll have been the most affected by this, so all of you deserve to know what happened."
"Copy." The bald sniper hesitated. "Greg?"
Hazel swung up and back to him.
"Am I going to have to remind all of them the kids exist?"
"Probably," Greg conceded. "I had to remind Dean and I probably inadvertently reminded Commander Holleran." He grimaced. "I don't think that part was intentional; when I asked Lance about it, he thought it might be a side-effect from how the spell worked." Sighing, he added, "The memories are there, Ed, but until they think about them…"
"They don't remember," Ed finished, understanding. "Kinda odd."
A nod. "Very. And that's just the tip of the iceberg." Two fingers tapped his nephew's notebook. "Once I get done explaining, I'll show all of you the lease mio nipote signed."
Curiosity shone, but the Sergeant just nodded and ducked out of the office.
Parker wasn't sure what Ed told his team, but he was grateful when they heard him out, not saying anything as he outlined what had occurred two Mondays previous as well as how his nephew's 'ritual spell' had come to a crashing halt. Lance's letter rounded the whole room as the tension in the air began to rise. Greg hadn't held back any details, yet he could feel the growing anger. While his friends felt badly about the young man's injuries, the sympathy did nothing to mitigate their justifiable rage at having been manipulated by someone they all saw as family. Even when he explained Marina's role in the whole mess, most of the fury was still directed at his nephew, not his fiancé, though they understood why he'd temporarily severed all contact with her.
By the time he was done with the timeline, the lieutenant made the decision to keep the rest to himself. His former team didn't need to see the notebook or the lease. They didn't need to know that Marina had been calling him every few hours since mid-morning Saturday or that Lance had been the one to convince him to at least listen to her messages instead of simply deleting them. Nor did he intend to tell them about Marina's claim that she had information about his nipotes that he didn't. The very concept was ridiculous – Marina hadn't met his kids until after they'd been in Toronto for years, so how could she know anything about them that he didn't?
"Boss, we'll whip up a conversation or something that mentions the kids where the other teams and the dispatchers can hear us," Ed announced once the murmurings died down. "Shouldn't draw all that much attention."
And it would discreetly end the last of the ritual spell without him spending the time explaining the situation to every member of the SRU or the Auror Division. "Thanks, Eddie." He still owed them an apology for the May Dalton hot call, but that was yet another thing that would have to wait. Along with Lance's pointed comments that he should make up with his former team…that all of them had just read. Internally, Greg winced, but he couldn't unring that particular bell. Instead, he quietly reclaimed the letter and headed for his office. The paperwork was mind-numbingly dull, but it would give him space to collect his thoughts.
To his surprise, no sooner had he reached his sanctuary when Eddie breezed in, followed by a curious Wordy. Turning, Parker hiked a brow. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Sergeant Lane?"
"You said something about a lease," Ed reminded him.
"So I did," the lieutenant agreed. "But given the fact that all of you are justifiably angry with my nephew, I reconsidered."
"Greg. Give."
Parker set the notebook down on his desk and twisted to lean against the wood, placing his bulk between the lean Sergeant and his target. "The lease does not affect anyone here, Sergeant Lane. I would have liked some extra input, but I can do without."
"Are you worried we'd give you bad advice?" Wordy interjected, gray eyes guarded.
"No." That was an easy answer; his former team was professional enough to be appalled by the lease and still be angry with his nephew, all at the same time. "But your anger with mio nipote is very understandable and I believe he should face the consequences of his actions. Or at least as many of them as possible." Greg shifted, leaning harder against the desk. "You weren't there; you didn't see the apartment or the neighbors." One hand adjusted, palm tapping the notebook. "You haven't seen the lease either."
Ed's gaze narrowed. "You think if you show us the lease, we'll drop the anger out of sympathy."
"Not all of it, but certainly quite a bit," Parker agreed, crossing his arms. "Lance needs consequences. I'm as sure as I can be that he won't do this again, but that doesn't remove the underlying emotional issues that led to his decision." Thoughtful, Greg tilted his head, regarding his fellow fathers. "If he can see how angry all of you are, not just over his actions, but over the thought of losing someone you consider a member of the 'family', well…"
"That helps you prove to him that he's valuable to us," Wordy concluded, though he sounded startled by his own statement. "Sarge, he's really that bad?"
"He accused me of hating him." The sentence was mild, but the emotions behind it were not. Even as his friends gawked, Greg inspected his fingernails, forcing nonchalance. "There was also a bit about how obeying the gag order was 'just following orders' and something else about how he isn't my family, but Marina is." At the utter stillness, he added the coup de grâce. "And, oh, of course, how could I forget, the declaration that I came home for Marina, not them."
A pair of hands came down on his shoulders. "Greg." Involuntarily, he looked up. "You know that's not true."
It took an effort to remain steady. "Yes, Eddie, I know, but the truth is, I screwed up. I was so obsessed with what was going wrong in my life that I forgot about my kids. I pushed them away and I left them behind and then I came crawling back on hands and knees only to do it all over again."
"You didn't," Wordy blurted.
"Yes, I did," Parker countered, sorrowful, but resolute. "If I'd only heard this from Lance, that would be one thing, but Alanna had some of the exact same concerns. What does that tell you?" Their expressions answered the question and Greg broke away, snagging the notebook to keep it away from Eddie. Pacing to his office window, he turned back to gaze at his two friends. "Lance may have committed the crime, but my decisions enabled this situation."
"Greg, you're human," Ed argued. "We get things wrong."
A nod. "I realize that, my friend. But this time, by getting things wrong, I hurt two of the people I most care about and now they both doubt my love." Hazel came up, determined even as the grief shone. "So get angry at Lance. Make sure he knows what you think of what he did. Drive that point home and then maybe he'll understand how much he's loved."
"That doesn't mean we can't help you with that lease," Ed pointed out.
Greg considered, but finally shook his head. "I'll keep it in mind, but I need to read the notebook and then Lance and I will have a long discussion on both. If he would like your input, then we can go ahead, but I'd like him involved in cleaning up as much of the aftermath as possible."
"Punishment," Wordy muttered, earning an approving cant of his lieutenant's head.
Shifting his weight more towards his toes, the SRU's second-in-command eyed both of his subordinates, then opined, "Now, if that's all gentlemen, I believe the two of you have a shift and I have a mountain of paperwork."
"Copy that, Boss," Ed acknowledged. "Let us know, okay?"
"Will do," Greg replied, a faint smile crossing his face. Then his phone let out a soft buzz and the smile disappeared at the caller ID. Marina. Again.
Partway through the morning, Parker was startled when his intercom buzzed. Reaching out, he tapped it. "Yes, Kira?"
"Lieutenant, I have two detectives here asking for you. Names are Bythe and Wilson."
"Go ahead and send them in," the officer replied, straightening from his laptop.
"Copy that, sir," Kira acknowledged.
By the time the knock came on his office door, Greg was standing. As he walked around his desk, he called, "Enter." Neither of the detectives appeared happy as they opened the door and moved inside. The younger detective was almost vibrating with anger and the SRU lieutenant scented a problem. Rather than wait for any accusations, he looked to the older man. "What happened?"
The blond's mouth twisted, disgust evident. "Someone cleaned up our crime scene. Inside and out."
Lion's Mane. Greg rubbed his forehead and swore under his breath. "So you've got nothing," he concluded, tone dull.
"Other than what the hospital gave us, just what your kid can tell us. If you're done hiding him."
Parker frowned. "Give me an hour and I'll bring him in, but I'm afraid that might not give you much either." At their challenging glares, the lieutenant sighed and elaborated. "He seems to have picked up my penchant for guilt trips and self-inflicted punishments."
Greg lurked against the wall behind his nephew, trying to remain unobtrusive, but Lance's stiff posture made it plain he was still very aware of his uncle's presence – and mounting frustration. The two detectives were just as frustrated with the teenager who sat in their interview room, obstinately refusing to give them any sort of statement about the fight that had left him sporting several broken and cracked ribs.
"Look, I'm really sorry you guys wasted your time, but it really wasn't that bad," Lance insisted.
The brunet Wilson shook his head. "Kid, I read the medical report and I don't get how you can walk around like nothing happened so soon." The young detective flipped open the folder next to him and eyed the paper within. "Two broken ribs, three cracked ribs, and half a dozen slashes to your forearms. That's not a schoolyard fist fight, kid, that's an assault."
Lance's gaze dropped to the table, expression mulish.
"Was he your dealer?" the blond Detective Bythe demanded.
"No!"
"Then why protect him?" Wilson pressed, leaning in. "He got something on you, kid?"
Outrage shone in the sapphire that came up, defiance finally blazing, but the young man didn't crack. "Look, I admit I got into a fight. I admit I got the worse end of the deal. But that is it. I don't take drugs and no one has anything on me." He shrugged. "It's not an assault if it was mutual combat and that's what it was."
"So why rent an apartment in a dump like that when you got someone who's interested?" Bythe inquired, tone pointed as he gestured to Parker. "Makes me think you were tryin' to hide somethin' from him, kid, and maybe it got you into trouble."
Greg kept his mouth shut; Lance wasn't doing himself any favors by stonewalling the detectives and his uncle was not going to bail him out of a mess he was creating all by himself. For his part, the teenager kept his gaze forward and his chin up. "You're trying to provoke me into telling you what happened." The brunet head cocked to the side. "I should know; I've lived with a negotiator since I was thirteen." Slowly, he shook his head. "My sister and I ran away and yeah, the apartment's exactly what you said, but none of this had anything to do with drugs or me getting myself in over my head. I don't know the man I got in a fight with and I'm sorry to waste your time, but I'm not giving you a statement."
"Not even if the guy was going after your sister?" Bythe questioned, nodding as sapphire flashed. "That's what happened, isn't it? The guy went after your sister and you got between them." He moved forward, resting both palms on the table. "Have to say, kid, if someone went after my sister, I'd give 'em what-for. Even if the guy was bigger than me and had a knife. But I sure wouldn't protect them afterwards."
Uncertain, Lance looked down, gathering himself. "Even if you're right – and I'm not saying you are – what's it matter? My sister is fine, I'm fine, and it won't happen again."
"Maybe not to you, kid, but what about somebody else's sister?" Bythe asked. "Guys like that, they don't stop unless they're caught."
The teenager's shoulders hunched – and Greg moved, resting a hand on his nephew's back to draw attention. "Lance, I understand why you're doing this," he said, dropping into a partial crouch to meet the teen's gaze. "But they're right. This isn't about what happened to you, this is about keeping it from happening to anyone else." Hazel held sapphire. "Lance, if you don't give them a statement, your attacker is going to get away with what he did – and that means he'll be that much more confident that he can get what he wants the next time he sees a pretty girl cross his path."
Lance bit his lip, searching his uncle's expression. "This will help start making things right?"
"Mio nipote, you've already started making things right, but this is part of it, yes." Greg hesitated, then added, "Lance, this is part of being an adult. I do want you to accept responsibility for your actions, but that also means holding others responsible for theirs. Just because you ran away does not mean you deserved to get beaten up and left for dead, understand?"
The detectives stilled, catching onto why their victim was truly being uncooperative. Lance nibbled harder on his lip, eyes drifting down to the floor. "Do I have to say how we got the apartment?"
Parker shook his head. "No, I don't think that's necessary."
"If it was shady…" Wilson started.
"It wasn't," Greg interrupted. "Lance is concerned because if I'm guessing right, his source falls under the Official Secrets Act."
His nephew nodded confirmation.
Bythe arched both brows, skepticism gleaming. "A kid is involved in something classified?"
Wry hazel met blue-gray. "I would stop there, Detective. It's not part of the assault case and it's one of those things most people wish they'd never found out." At the cringe under his palm, Greg switched his attention back to his nephew. "But I wouldn't trade it for the world, mio nipote." How could he? The magical world had given him two of the greatest treasures he'd ever had. Treasure he'd nearly squandered, but never again. Shifting back to the detectives, Parker nodded once. "Either of you have a pen and paper?"
Wilson pushed his yellow pad over to the teenager and produced a fresh pen from a shirt pocket. Lance accepted both, though he made a face at the pen. Then the young man bent to the paper and started writing out his statement.
"Your kid's got one heck of an eye for detail," Detective Bythe remarked as he surveyed the three sketches Lance had described to the sketch artist. For his part, Greg was doing his best to hold onto his temper. A one-on-one fight was bad enough, but three-on-one? He was tempted to call Anthony and introduce every last one of the goons who'd attacked his nephew to a real three-on-one fight. Or maybe he could thrash them himself. The lieutenant knew he wouldn't, though, no matter how tempting it was. He had to be the responsible adult and set the example, after all.
"Is the statement enough?"
The other man grunted. "We'll see. It's enough to arrest the next-door neighbor, but who knows if the DA will want to press charges. Most juries these days…they want forensics and that's exactly what we don't have."
Parker nodded. The city only had so many resources and they weren't likely to authorize the necessary forensic testing to find what was left of the cleaned up blood traces at the apartment. Nor were they likely to authorize any testing on his nephew's clothing, the only real forensic evidence left aside from the documentation of Lance's injuries.
Blue-gray studied him. "Never would've guessed your boy was holding back 'cause he thought he deserved it."
"I did say he'd picked up my penchant for guilt trips and self-inflicted punishments," Greg reminded the detective. "When I was his age, I don't think I would've cracked." He certainly wouldn't have given his parents' opinions any weight – he probably would've been gleeful to ruin his mother's reputation in the Church and the neighborhood by letting gossip about any fights run wild.
"Then he ain't as bad as you think, Lieutenant." Bythe shrugged at Greg's surprised expression. "I don't know why he ran, but he still respects you. Trusts you, too."
Respect, he could agree with, but not trust. Parker opted not to respond, though. "Is there anything else you need, Detective?"
"We'll let you know, Lieutenant Parker." Bythe glanced over towards his younger colleague and Lance. "Go ahead and take your boy home."
"Copy that," Greg agreed, already moving and gesturing for Lance to follow him. When his nephew caught up, Parker lowered his voice. "How are your grades doing, mio nipote?"
Lance squirmed, but admitted, "Not so good, sir."
Greg let the 'sir' slide – when Lance was willing to trust him again, he would start using 'Uncle Greg' on his own. "All right, let's go home and take a look at what you've been having trouble with, mio nipote. I can't promise I can help, but I'll try."
Much to the veteran negotiator's relief, once he and his nephew sat down with the textbooks and notebooks, most of the problem resolved itself with a thorough re-reading of the assigned chapters and Greg's trick of forcing his nephew to either say the questions out loud or write them down. Privately, Greg suspected Lance had just been too stressed, overwhelmed, and sleep-deprived to do his best on his homework. In fact, as he took the opportunity to glance over all of Lance's recent work, it became apparent that if he'd been keeping an eye on his nephew's grades as he had the previous summer, he might've caught on to the escalating issues all the sooner.
"How are Alanna's grades?"
Lance stilled, sapphire rising from his notebook. "Hers are fine, sir."
Ah. "You made sure of that."
Guilt shone as his nephew nodded.
Parker considered, then returned the nod. "All right. Tell you what, kiddo. I know you've been waiting for the axe to fall as far as discussing the ritual."
His nephew squirmed, but waited for the rest.
"Well, we're still going to discuss it, but for the rest of this week, I want you to focus on your schoolwork and catching up there. Your punishment is no Shiloh until your grades are back up. We'll discuss the ritual and your apartment lease this weekend."
"Yes, sir," Lance whispered, guilt dropping his gaze once more.
"I also want both Alanna and Dean to join us for the apartment lease discussion."
Sapphire shot back up. "What? Why?"
Greg sighed. "Let's just say your lease was one of the worst leases I have ever seen and I may just have to take it over to the white-collar crime division."
Lance's eyes widened. "But Gringotts negotiated it!"
The stocky man froze. "Silnok negotiated this?" he demanded.
The young man shook his head. "No. I've, um, I've started working with his son, Silvergrip."
Understanding broke through. "Silnok is retiring?"
"Kinda." Lance gazed down at the table. "You know he started as junior account manager for my great-grandfather?"
Both brows shot up. "Really? Goblins live that long?"
"Yeah. Was news to me and Alanna, too, but that's what he said when we went to him while you guys were in Texas." Lance leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and bracing his chin. "See, he's still our account manager, but Silvergrip is going to start taking over the day-to-day stuff."
Parker nodded. "So there's delegation going on. And training?"
"Pretty much," Lance agreed. "Silvergrip arranged the apartment, plus the furniture and the wards."
"You rented the furniture?"
"What? No, nothing like that," Lance replied. "The furniture is ours, but, um, it was supposed to be for when we got old enough to move out." He traced an invisible line on the table. "See, we aren't giving up the Derbyshire manor, but Toronto's where everyone is, so…"
"You want a place here," Greg finished quietly. "Why an apartment?"
" 'Cause I knew we couldn't afford to buy a house and a car," Lance confessed. "The apartment is close enough that we can walk to school." He stared down at the table, unseeing. "But it was supposed to be a lot nicer."
Ah. That explained a few things, but Greg was puzzled by the idea that his nipotes couldn't afford a house and car. Sure there had been quite a few ambitious investments, but before his undercover stint, he'd been his nephew's Regent and he knew the family finances could easily afford the outrageous rent on that even more outrageous lease. So what was this nonsense about not being able to afford housing and transportation? Privately, he added finances as another necessary topic of discussion, as well as the issue of this junior account manager. While it was perfectly fair for Silnok to step back and bring in another goblin to help him with the Calvin Family accounts, Greg was unhappy with the new goblin's performance thus far.
Standing up, the stocky man tapped the table. "Keep working on your homework, kiddo. If you run into any problems, I'll be in the kitchen."
"Yes, sir."
Parker kept his expression steady and swallowed his sigh as he left the room. It was going to take more than a few days' effort to reverse the trend of the past several months. Much as he hated to admit it, he had no idea when Lance would drop his guard enough to say 'Uncle Greg' again. Wonderful.
The rest of the week passed in that uneasy state of affairs. Greg quietly fended off Team One's plans to educate a certain young man in why they were angry over his actions; much as Lance deserved the fallout, Parker had decided the situation would have to be handled carefully. While he did intend to stand aside and let Team One scold Lance as long as they wanted, his nephew's school troubles took precedence. So did the impending discussion of the ritual, lease, and the Calvin Family financials. It wasn't exactly the real-world scenario he'd planned on, but Greg feared if he let everything crash down all at once, it would foster resentment and drive new wedges between himself and his nipotes.
Marina continued to call, but Greg refused to answer his phone, though he did listen to each message. She was getting very frantic, but adding her to an already complex situation was not going to happen. Besides, it was about time his girlfriend got a taste of what she'd been doing to his nipotes and she could darn well choke on it. Especially since almost every message kept insisting that Marina knew something about his nipotes that he didn't, something his nipotes were hiding from him. The very allegation made him even angrier; he was tempted to pick up one of her calls, declare they were done, and demand the ring back. Caution stayed his hand; if he acted impulsively, he might win his nipotes' approval in the short term, but they would always wonder if he could just as impulsively turn on them.
So the lieutenant maintained the status quo and plotted out his future steps, determined to regain his kids' faith and trust. Once he had that, then he could figure out how to respond to his girlfriend's betrayal and her allegations. In the meantime, he still had mountains of paperwork to do and a host of unhappy subordinates to placate.
On Friday night, Greg recruited Alanna to help him cook a large dinner; the leftovers were almost wiped out and he could think of no better start to the weekend than to pull his three kids back together. Dean and Alanna had slipped right back into a good relationship, but both of them were shunning Lance over the ritual spell. Greg wasn't about to let it continue, not on his watch. Yes, Lance had absolutely screwed up and he deserved to face the consequences, but the family dynamic was still teetering on the edge, far too fragile and prone to breakage for Greg to stand by.
So while Alanna helped in the kitchen, Greg dispatched Dean to help Lance with his homework, dangling the carrot that if all the homework was done by the end of the evening, the three kids could look forward to an outing of their choice on Saturday, so long as that outing was within driving distance. And if they wanted, in the evening they could come with him to the range and he would walk them through an introductory shooting lesson with the firearm of their choice.
Just as he'd hoped, the carrots were enough to override Dean's anger with his cousin and Alanna was just as eager; Greg had to hold her back so she could finish helping him with dinner, but he wasn't worried about her falling down on her homework. No, it was her brother who needed the extra help and encouragement. Help that Dean could offer – and with any luck, it would start reforging a friendship Lance had strained to the breaking point.
As the dinner preparations continued, Greg went to the 'fridge to retrieve butter and eggs. When he opened the door, his gaze was drawn to several soda bottles on the middle shelf, but he shook his head and refocused on finding the last two ingredients they needed for the cooking. Besides, he was starting to get hungry, especially with the scents starting to drift through the kitchen.
The lasagna bubbled as Greg lifted it clear of the oven and set it on the wooden serving board waiting on the counter. It would have to cool down and finish cooking before they could dig in, but in the meantime… Parker nodded approval as Alanna slid in a tray of bread twists. They were store-bought instead of made from scratch, but Greg knew his kids wouldn't care either way. Neither would he, tell the truth. On the oven countertop, the meatballs simmered in pasta sauce; they didn't exactly go with lasagna, but no meal in the Parker-Calvin household would be complete without a generous serving of meat.
Bread twists in and baking, Alanna moved to the refrigerator and opened it up to retrieve a fruit tray – also store-bought, but it did save time and had a very good variety. Greg's eyes drifted to the middle shelf and the soda bottles, impulse swirling in his gut, but when Alanna closed the door, he shook himself and shifted back to preparing their meal.
By the time Greg and Alanna were done cooking, Dean and Lance had conquered the weekend's homework; the boys quickly retrieved plates and silverware while their cousin and guardian handled the food. In less time than any observer would've expected, the dinner was on the table and the four diners were in their seats, all but drooling at the various scents rising from the meal. Greg sat back, staying out of the fray as his kids dug in; a smile crossed his face as he watched and he gave silent thanks for a scene he'd come far too close to losing. In hindsight, he really should've set aside a few weekends for just the kids; that might've given his nipotes an opportunity to bring their concerns to him and also communicated to Marina that his kids were just as important as she was. Could've, should've, would've, though; he couldn't change the past, all he could change was how things would work going forward.
With the first rush exhausted, Greg lifted his plate and dished out a generous serving of lasagna for himself, adding three meatballs, some fruit, and a bread twist. Once he had his food, he arched a brow in Dean's direction. "Anything you couldn't handle?"
"Nope," Dean replied breezily. "Just had to show Lance a few new things on his graphing calc."
Parker frowned. "Are you allowed to use a calculator for those problems?" he inquired of his nephew.
"Yes, sir; we're supposed to, actually," Lance replied. "I just, um, wasn't sure how to put the info in right."
Satisfied, the stocky man nodded. "All right. Good work, you two." He tilted his head at Alanna. "Dean, I don't think Alanna will need as much help, but I'm sure she'd appreciate your backup."
"Sure thing, Dad," Dean agreed.
"Can I learn how to use a Glock?" Alanna asked, tone hopeful.
Greg shoved away a memory of Marina asking the same thing. "Well, sweetheart, if that's what you want, I'll try to make it happen, but we'll have to see if it fits your hands."
Her face fell. "My hands are too small?"
"That's something we'll have to find out," Greg informed her. "Focus on your homework this evening and tomorrow morning, I'll get out my personal gun and let you hold it." He considered, then added, "Even if my 17 doesn't work out, you might be able to fire a single stack (1) Glock; it's less ammo, but the grip is thinner."
Alanna nodded thoughtfully, though she still looked disappointed at the idea that her uncle's usual firearm might be too large for her to handle. Privately, Greg suspected that even if his gun was too big, she would find ways to compensate; he'd learned long ago not to underestimate his kids' determination.
Lance helped with the after-dinner cleanup, though his subdued attitude was painful to witness. Every glimpse of those dull, wary orbs was a fresh dagger through Greg's heart and even telling himself it would take time didn't help. He wanted this problem fixed yesterday and that simply wasn't going to happen. His nipote's confidence had been broken over a period of months and building it back up was going to take just as long, if not longer.
So Greg kept his dismay buried as deeply as possible, smiling whenever his nephew glanced at him, affection shining in hazel eyes. He even worked in a few excuses to grip Lance's shoulder, trying to physically convey his appreciation for the teenager. By the time everything was cleaned up and put away, Parker fancied the wariness had faded just a little. Baby steps, but critical nonetheless.
"All right, kiddo, I think we've got this under control. Go have some fun."
Sapphire studied him, then Lance nodded. "Yes, sir."
As the teenager trudged out of the kitchen, Greg leaned against the counter, wishing, bitterly, that he'd been more observant. Better, faster, smarter, but he hadn't been. And now… Mount Everest was an afternoon stroll compared to the mountain of a teenager's heart. Would he ever regain what he'd so carelessly tossed aside? At the back of his mind, a small voice observed that patience often reaped its own rewards, but he didn't want to be patient. He wanted his kids back.
Unbidden, his gaze shifted to the refrigerator, an image of the bottles inside appearing in his mind's eye. Funny…he hadn't purchased any soda since coming home, but suddenly, he wanted one of those soda bottles. Despite the dinner they'd just finished, his throat felt parched and it wanted soda.
The sound of the 'fridge's door seal releasing startled him and Greg reared back. Hadn't he just been leaning against the counter? But the thirst for soda kicked in again and he found his eyes pulled to those bottles sitting on his middle shelf. He reached for one, mouth watering in anticipation, and it was all he could do to close the door and move away before he wrenched the cap off the bottle. He drained the contents, tension dissipating as the cool liquid flowed. With a sigh of contentment, Greg polished off the bottle and absently twisted the cap back on before tossing it in the nearby garbage container.
It took a few seconds, but then he registered an intense, powerful emotion sweeping through him. Desire. Need. Love. His whole body shook as the obsession took hold, leaving him incapable of thinking about anything but the object of his love.
Marina.
[1] A single stack magazine has its rounds in one vertical row while a double stack magazine will stagger the rounds, allowing for two vertical rows. While this allows for more ammunition, the magazines are naturally wider, which means the handgun grip will also be wider.
