How had this become a thing? Alvarez thanked Bianca and made her escape, shooting Pescoli a look of commiseration on her way out. As soon as she was gone, Pescoli rounded on Luke. “And you think . . . what? That because some Hollywood type blows into town that it means . . . money? Fame?”
He lifted his chin like a stubborn little boy. “Maybe.”
So there it was; the
real reason Lucky was in her house, swilling her beer and being the attentive parent.
“I’m afraid everyone, including Sphinx, is going to be disappointed. Bianca’s not going.”
“You can’t just say that. Bianca can make up her own mind,” Luke shot back.
Again, he gave his daughter an encouraging do-it-for-Daddy smile.
Pescoli growled, “Stop it, Luke. We’re done here. Bianca’s recovering. It’s been a long day and—”
“What would it hurt?” he demanded.
“—we’ve got a murder investigation, so the answer is no,” she barreled on. Enough of this nonsense!
Lucky was eye-to-eye with Bianca. “Carlton says you don’t have to get up and give a formal talk. Just go to the meeting, talk to some of the people, meet Mr. Sphinx. It could be fun and you know . . .” He winked at her. “You’ll be a celebrity. Think on it.”
It broke Pescoli’s heart to see the light in her daughter’s eyes at her father’s show of tenderness. “I want to go, Daddy.”
“Bianca,” Pescoli began.
“Mom,” she angrily shot right back.
Pescoli clamped her teeth together. She knew better than to get between father and daughter, but it was nearly impossible to hold her tongue.
Luke bent down and placed a kiss on Bianca’s head, then started for the door.
“Jer’s here,” Bianca said at the sound of an engine fast approaching. Pescoli glanced out the window to catch a flash of metal, followed by dust kicking up from behind the tires of Jeremy’s truck. He parked next to the Corvette, threw himself out of the cab, and was up the path to the house as the truck’s door slammed behind him. Inside, he nearly ran into Luke, who was on his way out. At six-foot-two, he had a couple of inches on his once-upon-a-time stepfather.
“Hey!” Jeremy said and gave Luke a high five as the dogs, barking and wagging their back ends, greeted him enthusiastically. Cisco acted as if he hadn’t seen Jeremy in years rather than hours.
“Back atcha,” Luke said after the slap. “So, your mom’s got you working for the sheriff’s department now?”
“Nope. All my idea.” Jeremy shot Regan a quick smile, took time to pat each dog on the head, and then beelined for the refrigerator. “Hey, Mom,” he said as a greeting, then to his sister, “How ya doing, brat?”
“Not great,” Bianca muttered with a glare at her mother.
“When are you ever?” He opened the refrigerator door and hung between the door and the body of the appliance as he studied the shelves.
Bianca threw him a look. “Very funny.”
He wasn’t cowed in the least. “So, you can’t walk or drive for the next six months?” He grabbed a pizza box, pulled it out, and examined the contents.
“You’re such a douche,” she muttered. “I can drive. The splint is just kind of a reminder to take it easy or something. I’m fine.”
Grabbing three slices of the cold pie, he took the time to dump two into the microwave, hit the button, and while the slices warmed, ate the third in two bites. Then, without missing a beat, he opened the pantry door and retrieved a full pack of Oreos.
“Those are poison, you know,” Bianca warned. Her healthy diet was on-again, off-again, but currently, it seemed, back on.
“Really?” he mumbled around the sausage and pepperoni pizza while ripping the bag open. “Somebody should let the FDA know because there’s no warning on the package.”
“Read the damned contents.”
He ignored her suggestion as the microwave dinged, and he retrieved the rest of his snack, placing the cheesy slices on a napkin. “What’s going on?” he asked, holding a pizza slice and two cookies in his hands.