Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) (28 page)

He turned to face Vi with his two armfuls and said, “Violet, these are my nieces. This is Amelia”—he jostled the older one—“and this is Addy.” He bounced the little one and she giggled. “Girls, this is Violet.”

“Hi, Amelia, Addy. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“I like your eyes,” Addy blurted, her own mocha orbs staring at Vi with childlike fascination.

“Thank you. I like your braids,” Vi said, giving one a gentle tug.

“My mommy said we have to act our bestest in case you’re a keeper.”

Vi trapped her lips between her teeth to hold back the laughter threatening to burst out.

“Shush, Addy,” Amelia scolded, kicking her sister’s foot. “You’re not supposed to say that.”

Either Amelia was small for her age or older than her years. Addy scowled at her big sister and returned the kick. Nikko moved his arms wider, pulling the two girls apart just before the retaliation connected. He winced, shooting Vi an apologetic grimace just as a beautiful raven-haired woman stepped onto the porch and yelled, “That’s enough, girls. Go wash up. Supper’s almost done.” Nikko set Amelia and Addy on their feet, and they both took off like a shot, racing toward the house. “Sorry, Nik,” the woman called with a wave, ushering her little rascals inside.

Vi took a moment to push back her nerves and rally her courage as she glanced down at her dress, making sure it was hanging straight and everything was properly covered.
It’s going to be okay. You can do this,
she told herself.

Nikko must have noticed her mounting anxiety, because he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Nervous?”

Vi nodded. It was no use trying to hide it. “What if your family thinks I’m not a keeper?” she asked half joking, half serious.

Nikko chuckled, pulling her into his side and planting a quick kiss on her lips. “Don’t worry, Clover. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”

Wait. What?

V
i’s heart leapt into her throat, hammering against her trachea. Did Nikko Del Toro just tell her he loved her?—or was this one of those blithe, placating responses you give to someone when you don’t want them to worry?

Before she could respond, the front door opened and there stood a woman she could only assume was Nikko’s mother. Except for the eyes, she looked nothing like her son. Nikko must have gotten his size and olive coloring from his father, because this woman was petite and fair—and startlingly beautiful.

“Nik,” she greeted warmly, stepping out onto the porch and opening her arms for a motherly hug.

He stepped away from Vi and dutifully moved into his mother’s embrace.

“I missed seeing you a few weeks ago. I’m glad you were able to come for supper tonight.” Rising on her tiptoes, she grabbed his face and pulled him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now introduce me to this beautiful young woman.”

Nikko stepped aside, making room for Vi to join them on the porch. “Mom, this is Violet Summers. Violet, this is my mother, Carmella.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Del Toro.”

Violet held out her hand, and the woman grasped it without hesitation, pulling her in for a hug. “Please, call me Carmella. We’re pretty informal here.”

Vi instantly liked the woman. Her warm, affectionate air helped put Violet at ease. It pleased her to discover Nikko had a support system like this in his life—a place to call home. So many people didn’t. They followed his mother into the living room, and Vi tried to ignore the sizzle of awareness that rushed through her when Nikko’s hand came to rest on the small of her back. The sheer scarf material did nothing to barrier the heat of his intimately possessive touch.

“I hope you like paella,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s one of Nikko’s favorite dishes.”

“I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Vi replied as she headed toward the kitchen.

“What’s paella?” she whispered.

“It’s a Spanish dish with seafood and vegetables cooked over yellow rice. I told you my father was from Spain, didn’t I?”

“I don’t think you did, but I wondered with the last name Del Toro.”

“My mother always cooks Spanish dishes in honor of him whenever we get together.”

She took his hand and linked their fingers, giving it a squeeze. “That’s really sweet. I’ve never had authentic Spanish cooking before. I’m looking forward to trying it.”

Taking advantage of their privacy, Nikko pulled her into his arms and dipped his head, whispering against her lips, “If you wanted to taste something Spanish, I’d have been more than happy to help you out.”

She gasped, feigning shock at his inappropriate offer, and he chuckled, brushing his mouth against hers. “How selfless of you to extend such a gracious offer,” she teased.

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a giver . . .”

“You’re an incorrigible flirt, is what you are.”

“Says the girl who isn’t wearing any panties.”

“Well played, Mr. Del Toro.” She winked, stepping out of his embrace as the little patter of feet came bounding down the hall.

“Uncle Nik! Is Ray coming for supper, too?”

Who was Ray? One of Nikko’s friends?

“Not this time, squirt.” Nikko swooped the little girl into his arms and spun her around until she squealed with delight.

“Stop spinning her, Nik!” his sister called down the hall from inside the bathroom where she must have been supervising the getting-washed-up-for-supper routine. A moment later, Amelia came tearing out of the bathroom. “My turn, my turn,” she called, ignoring her mother’s warning to Nikko. His sister was hot on her heels, drying her hands on a towel.

“Don’t you dare do it, Nik!”

But they both ignored her warning, and soon Amelia was fly
ing through the air.

His sister’s scowl was replaced by a tender smile as she watched the
two twirl around the room. “They never listen to me,” she told Vi, shak
ing her head. “We’ll see who’s laughing when she pukes all over him.”

Nikko’s sister crossed the room and held out her hand. “You must be Violet. My name is Valerie, this jackass’s little sister. You already met my two girls?”

“I did. They’re beautiful. How old are they?”

“Three and seven.”

Vi was right, Amelia was just little for her age. “It’s very nice to meet all of you.”

“You, too. I just about had a heart attack when Nik called this afternoon and told us he wanted to bring someone over for supper.” Leaning closer, she gave Vi a conspiratorial grin and said, “It must be really serious between you two. He’s never brought anyone home before.”

Before Vi could respond, Valerie grabbed her arm and led her into the dining room. “Come on, let’s get you a glass of wine. I know I could sure use one.”

“So tell us, how did you two meet?” Valerie asked between bites of paella.

Nikko hadn’t been kidding, the dish was delicious. The rice blend and spicy kick reminded Vi of Cajun cooking. They were all seated at the table. Valerie and Carmella were across from her and Nikko. Addy and Amelia sat on the ends. Now that his sister had thrown out the question, they all seemed to be wondering; every eye was fixed on her—including Nikko’s.

Why wasn’t he telling the story? It was his family. She met his stare, silently asking him that. His brow arched in a
Go ahead, tell them, unless you want me to
. . . response.

No. No, she did not. Heat rose to her cheeks and she broke his stare, focusing her attention on her plate as she responded. “We umm . . . sat together on a flight from New York to Vegas.”

“What?” Valerie busted out laughing.

Vi failed to see the humor.

“You sat next to Nik—on an airplane—and you actually still like him?”

She’d done a hell of a lot more than that, but she wasn’t about to tell that part of the story. Vi went back to eating her dinner. As long as she kept her mouth full, she might not have to answer any more questions about her and Nikko.

“Shit, Nik, if she can put up with you in the air, you oughta marry this girl.”

Vi nearly choked on her rice. She grabbed her glass of Merlot to take a sip and clear her throat, then kept on chugging until the goblet was empty. She relished the warmth filling her stomach, spreading to her fingers and toes. When she set the glass back down, Nikko gave her a funny look.

“You all right there?” he asked.

“Uh-huh . . .”

“Need a refill?”

“Uh-huh . . .”

As Nikko poured more wine into her glass, Valerie kept talking, either oblivious to Vi’s mounting discomfort or uncaring. “I flew home with Nik after they released him from Walter Reed, and I was pretty sure
I
didn’t even like him anymore.”

Walter Reed . . . ? She’d heard of that place. It was the largest military medical hospital in the United Sates. So that’s where they must have sent Nikko after he’d been injured. Did his sister know what had happened to him? If so, maybe she could provide Vi with some of the answers she was so desperate to discover.

“Oh, come on, Val. I’m not that bad,” Nikko grumbled, reaching for his own glass and hitting it hard.

Ha
. . .
misery loves company.
“You are a little cranky when you fly,” Vi teased him, bumping his leg with her knee and flashing him a grin.

The wine must be strong, because she was already starting to feel tingly with a belly full of it, or maybe that was hope warming her heart at the thought of finally getting some answers.

Nikko’s gaze locked on her, his top lip twitching, not quite making it into a smile. “It’s a good thing you know how to cheer me up, then.”

Oh, he was not going there . . . Her cheeks burned hotter, and she was pretty sure she was going to dissolve into a pile of ash right here on the chair. She grabbed for her glass, shooting him a warning glare.

“If you found a way to cheer up this grump, you
have
to tell me your secret, because I am definitely trying it the next time I get on a plane with him.”

Vi swallowed wrong as she tried holding back her laughter and began coughing. She set her glass down and grabbed her napkin to cover her face. Oh, mercy, this conversation was not happening . . .

“Come on, Valerie,” Nikko snapped. “I wasn’t that bad.”

His sister was laughing, too, clearly enjoying the opportunity to harass her older brother.

“Wasn’t that bad? Nik, you made the poor stewardess cry.”

“Well, for crying out loud, how many times did I have to tell her I didn’t want a soda?”

“That’s her job!” Valerie exclaimed.

Nikko’s expression made them all laugh, looking both unamused and annoyed at the good-natured ribbing.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Vi contributed, “
I
was the one crying this time.”

“Nik made you cry?”

“No,” he snapped. “
I
didn’t do it; she was already crying.” Then, under his breath, he murmured for her ears only, “But I did make her scream . . .”

He’d done it! She couldn’t believe he’d actually gone there! Vi gasped in mock outrage and kicked him under the table.

“Ouch . . .” Nikko flinched, rapping his knee against the table. He laughed at his private joke, though it wasn’t nearly as funny now that it was at her expense. It drew his mother’s and Valerie’s attention, and their silence descended, leaving his throaty chuckle the only sound in the room. They both stared at him in shock—as if they’d never heard the guy laugh before.

It wasn’t a frequent occurrence, but Nikko had a wickedly funny sense of humor, albeit buried deep beneath that broody exterior. She’d gotten the opportunity to glimpse it a time or two. It was one of the things she loved the most about him.

“What’d you do that for?” he teased, his grin trained solely on her, seeming completely unaware he’d just silenced the room with that beautiful smile.

“You know exactly why I did it,” she sassed him playfully, forcing her attention back to his family rather than the flirtatious rogue sitting beside her. Vi was surprised to see tears glistening in his mother’s eyes. “Carmella? Are you all right?”

“Excuse me,” his mother said, hastily jumping up from her chair. “I’m going to go check on the dessert.”

As she rushed out, Nikko cursed under his breath and stood. “Mom, wait,” he said, following after her. Feeling the weight of Valerie’s stare, Vi turned to her and said, “I’m sorry if I said anything to upset her.”

“It’s not you,” she assured Vi. “Well, actually, it is, but in a good way,” she rushed to add. “Those are tears of happiness. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Nik smile or laugh. He’s like a different man. He’s . . . happy. I suspect we have you to thank for that.”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .” she said, reluctant to take the credit.

“You don’t know how hard this has been for her. Letting her only son go to Afghanistan, especially after what happened to Dad. And then the man she got back was not the boy that left. Nik changed. He used to be fun loving, always smiling and laughing, but he came home so dark, and just . . . broken.”

“Does he ever talk to you about what happened?”

“No. You?”

Vi shook her head. “I’ve tried, but it didn’t go well.”

“In the beginning, so did we. After two years, we just sorta gave up hope of getting through to him. But seeing you two together, there’s something different about him. Some of his spark is back, and I can see glimpses of the old Nik.”

Sitting here listening to Valerie share her concerns about Nikko convinced Vi, more than ever, that she was doing the right thing—even if she had to go behind his back to do it. Only in discovering the truth could she find the key to free him from the bondage of his past.