obtained, with the proceeds from a career of criminal activity.
“You understand, then?” the man said, sounding relieved.
“Understand?” Dante asked, puzzled about what could be confusing about this. Then it hit him. He almost laughed. “Wait, you think I expected my brother to leave me something? No way in—”
He cut it off with another glance at the twins, who were being rather cooperative, both having apparently gone back to sleep.
Why not, after all? They were awake most of the night...
“Well, he did, in a way.”
Dante frowned again. “In what way?”
“The children.”
“What?”
“I’d say making you their legal guardian is leaving you something, wouldn’t you?”
Dante sank down into his desk chair. He had no choice—his knees had suddenly gone weak. “What?” he repeated numbly.
There was a long, silent pause. “He never told you?”
Dante searched for words and finally said, very carefully, “My brother made me the twins’ guardian?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” It came out as bewildered as he was feeling. “We weren’t... We didn’t...”
“He told me you were the only one he would trust. Because, he said, you were the only one who would see to them properly.”
What the hell did that mean? “Look, Mr. Fisk, I can’t—”
“I understand things are a bit...chaotic at the moment. I’ll send you a copy of the relevant portions of the will, but there are some other papers to sign and be filed. So if you could manage to come in to my office, or I can meet you somewhere, if that’s impossible.”
This is all impossible.
“Give me your number,” he said, almost automatically. He scrawled it down and hung up without saying anything other than goodbye. Stared at it for a moment. Then looked at the sleeping girls, the picture of innocence now, nothing like the twin demons who had kept him running all night.
What the hell did he know about babies? Nothing. He knew nothing about little kids, either. And half the time—more than half, in fact—he was convinced he understood absolutely nothing about the female of the species at all, so how was he supposed to raise two of them?
A flood of images rushed through his mind, of toddlers wreaking mayhem, emotional teenagers doing the same. Girls. Clustered in packs, whispering. God, that time of the month. Warning them about that kind of boy.
Teaching them how to put that boy on his knees? Now that might be something I could contribute.
But the rest? No. No way.
Why, Dominic? Why me?
He couldn’t do this.
He had to.
...the only one who would see to them properly.
What the hell did that even mean?
It was too much. Panic filled him. He couldn’t be responsible for this. He could deal with thieves, armed robbers, murderers, the scum of the earth. But he couldn’t be responsible for seeing that these two helpless babies had a good life.
Zita opened her eyes again. Smiled again. He pictured handing her over to some stranger to raise. Or worse, refusing the task and handing her over to the system. He knew too well, better than a civilian, that no matter how well meaning, there were too many gaps, too many holes in that system. Holes big enough for these two to fall right through.
“They kinda look like you.”
Dante jerked out of his swirling thoughts to stare at Gage. “What?” Seemed like the only word he could manage lately.
“When they’re frowning, anyway,” Gage gibed at him.
He started to make an insulting hand gesture, a reflex among cops who had worked together awhile. But he stopped before it formed. That, too, would have to stop.
He remembered at Mrs. Nelson’s, looking down at...he wasn’t sure which one it had been, now, Zita or Lucia, who had opened her eyes and looked at him, but he remembered thinking how her life had changed forever and she didn’t even know it.
But now he knew something else.
So had his.
* * *
“Maternal instinct,” Gemma said rather huffily as she stared down at the artistic pattern worked into the surface of her latte.
“What?”
She raised her gaze to her brother’s face. And she couldn’t help but smile. She’d been terrified Blake was going to die just two months ago, after that horrible incident at the train station. And she’d already missed him while he’d been off building his fortune, but she completely understood his need to prove something to their father.
But now he was almost recovered, and much, much happier as he, Juliette and their daughter were building a life together. She envied but didn’t begrudge him, because she loved him. She’d even come to like the bright, clever little girl who was his daughter. She didn’t mind children at that age, where they were beginning to talk and you could communicate with them.
An ounce of maternal instinct...
Devlin’s words came back to her. Her jaw tightened. Just because she didn’t want children yet didn’t mean she had no instincts. And there had to be a way to convince Dev of that. That she could be what he wanted.
“Gemma, what’s wrong?”
She blinked. Blake had gone out of his way to meet her for coffee—the least she could do was pay attention. They were still finding their way in their own relationship, after his five-year absence.
“Sorry. Just...distracted. How are Juliette and Pandora?” That would do it, she thought. And the smile that warmed Blake’s face, that lit his green eyes, proved her right.
“Besides wonderful?” he asked.
“Already knew that,” Gemma said with a wave and a grin. “How about Sasha?” Juliette’s K9 partner, a clever beagle, had been instrumental in the case that had brought them all together.
“She’s a character,” Blake said. “I think she’s glad to be back to work, though.”
“Toddler getting to her?”
“No, they get along great, but Juliette says it’s a learning curve.” Blake let out a compressed breath, as if he’d thought of something sad. “Not as much as one of the other K9 guys, though. Juliette told me he just inherited his twin nieces, six months old.”
Gemma blinked. “Inherited?”
Blake nodded. “His brother and sister-in-law were killed in a traffic accident yesterday.”
“That’s awful!”
“Yeah. Juliette says Dante’s going crazy, trying to deal. He says he knows nothing about kids and less about babies.”
“No paternal instincts?” The words were out before she could stop them. It irritated her that Dev had gotten to her so deeply that she couldn’t seem to shrug it off.
“Not on five minutes’ notice, no,” Blake said, looking at her in apparent puzzlement at her sharp tone. “Anyway, he’s in a panic, looking for a nanny.”
Gemma stared at her brother, beyond startled at the idea that flashed into her head the moment he’d finished the sentence.
“A nanny,” she said.