Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Read online

  By his mother.

  In the middle of a drug investigation— they would be forced to stop and relocate. Christ— the logistics alone . . . And with surveillance already scheduled for that night.

  She advanced on him. "Why are there police blocking the garage entrance? I had to show identification before he allowed me to pass," she muttered. "Rest assured, I got his badge number."

  "Seriously— mom . . . you've walked in on something-"

  "Obviously." A frown lodged between her brows. "I've had a long, tedious flight-" She perused the room again, this time with a practiced eye. "Matthew— do you have a woman here?"

  They were doomed. He stopped short when she grabbed his arm, her expression suddenly enthusiastic.

  Her wave encompassed the living room. "I'll overlook the appalling lack of housekeeping skills-"

  "Mom, stop."

  "Seriously, Matthew. Is it . . . a girlfriend?" Under any other circumstances, the desperate plea in her voice would've had him cracking up. "Are you finally serious about someone?"

  A spot behind his right eye began to throb. This day had eroded from the moment he'd awakened. Now, it was rapidly devolving into his version of hell. "No, ma-"

  Her shoulders slumped as though receiving world-ending news. "You're thirty-three."

  Stabbing his fingers through his hair, he slumped back against the wall. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

  When Mullaney busted out laughing in the kitchen, they both froze. Matt, with the acknowledgment that until retirement, he would never, ever be allowed to forget this moment.

  Raising a penciled brow, his mother moved swiftly for the hall. Hands on hips, she swiveled to face him. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

  Not hiding his irritation, he called back to them. "Get out here." He waited for Finn, Mullaney and the rest of the team to spill into the living room. Thankfully, Julie wasn't among them. Their conversation ceased the moment they laid eyes on his mother. "Guys, this is my mother, Madeline Stanhope." He hesitated. "Mom, these are my . . . friends-"

  They all began speaking at once. Though Matt knew it was hopeless, he clung to the illusion of preserving their schedule for the remainder of the day. His brain reeling, he contemplated how they could smuggle Julie from the penthouse without his mother's knowledge. "I came back to . . . catch a game at Fenway with a few of my friends. And— my place is . . . being fumigated-" Mentally crossing his fingers, he plunged on. "With you in Ireland, I thought it would be okay to hang out here."

  Glaring at them over his mother's head, their heads began bobbing in unison. "But, you look tired, Mom. We'll clear out-"

  "That's odd." Madeline cut him off, taking a step closer to Mullaney's gang. "Since the Sox are on a road trip this week." Over her shoulder, she pinned him with her stare. "In Baltimore." Turning back, she zeroed in on Finn. "You there— you look familiar. Do I know you?"

  Finn straightened imperceptibly. "I'm Finnegan O'Brien . . . ma'am."

  Eyes narrowed, the wheels in his mother's brain were smoking on the track. Matt winced, waiting for the inevitable connection.

  "You're Teagan's brother."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Another glance over her shoulder, accusatory this time. He was screwed. "Mom— I can explain-"

  She wasn't done with Finn yet. "You're with DEA."

  O'Brien shot him a plea for rescue. "Yes, ma'am. The Albany office."

  "And you?" She lasered in on Mullaney— who, Matt noticed, appeared mesmerized.

  "Sean Mullaney, ma'am. I . . . uh— I'm a consultant." He shook her hand, offering a smile instead of his typical snarl.

  Returning to the living room, she sank down on the couch. Mullaney shot him an irritated glance, dousing it when Madeline pinned him with her stare.

  "That's bullshit, Mr. Mullaney. You work for the state police. My son has mentioned you before."

  In that moment, Matt became resigned to his fate. His only hope now was to smuggle Jules out before his mother cornered her, too.

  "I thought that was Steve Jonas I saw."

  "You didn't see Jonas, ma."

  "I most certainly did . . . down in the street," she muttered. "So, this started at the cottage." Steepling her fingers, his mother's steely gaze never left their faces. Her fatigue falling away, there was no chance of being saved by jet-lag stupor. Her face held that I'm-on-to-you expression. Madeline's brain was firing like a damned particle accelerator— and they were the atoms about to collide.

  "Let's review what we have here, gentlemen. A meeting of federal, state and local police." Her expression one of triumph, she blotted up a coffee spill from her table. "Clearly, you're running an op from my penthouse. So, let's have it boys. I want details."

  ***

  Fascinated, Julie crept closer, near enough so she could hear the fireworks. Ten minutes with his mother and Agent Barnes was already on the ropes. Unable to stop smiling, she couldn't wait to meet her.

  "No— dammit. We don't want your help, Mom."

  To his credit, Matt was trying diligently not to upset his mother, but Mrs. Stanhope wasn't cooperating. "Mom— this isn't an episode of Murder She Wrote, for God's sake."

  She was surprised Madeline held her ground against the collective male exasperation as they tried to talk sense into her.

  "Don't you dare take that tone with me, Matthew."

  "I can't allow my mother to be placed in danger," Matt spelled out the obvious.

  The strain in his voice suggested an eroding temper on the verge of snapping. Despite his urge to protect his mother, the comedy of the situation was too perfect. Julie smothered her laughter.

  She heard footsteps approach. Stumbling as she retreated down the hall, she was pinned by a strangely familiar stare. This time, the owner was a regal woman who was much smaller than her imperious voice suggested.

  "I knew I smelled Chanel." Madeline Stanhope's suspicious gaze didn't miss an inch— from Julie's booted ankle to her wrinkled blouse and the stitches at her hairline. She tried not to squirm under Mrs. Stanhope's steely scrutiny. Her gaze never leaving her face when she spoke over her shoulder.

  "Dear? I believe you've forgotten to mention something."

  Curiously, she felt more nervous now than during the hellish events of the previous week. "Mrs. Stanhope, I'm Julie Kimball. I'm Matt's-"

  Prisoner? Witness? Prime suspect? Hobbling closer, she wondered where Matt had disappeared to.

  "Are you an officer?"

  Conscious of her disheveled hair, she tucked an errant strand in place. "No."

  "Girlfriend?"

  The eagerness in his mother's voice spoke volumes. Julie hid her smile. Thankfully, Matt rounded the corner, disrupting her interrogation.

  "Mom— quit badgering her. She's involved in the case."

  Like a woman familiar with the accusation, Madeline shook off his words, gaze still locked on her. "Are you in trouble, dear?"

  Matt's eyes contained a warning. "Don't answer that," he ordered.

  Her lips twitched with the effort to not laugh. Seeing them together, she understood how he'd come by his laserbeam intensity. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Stanhope."

  Matt nudged his mother toward the kitchen. "Wait in there. I need to speak with Jules."

  When he jerked his head toward a study off the hallway, Julie knew he wasn't really asking. His hand at her back sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

  "Have a seat," he suggested, closing the door. "We need to discuss this latest disaster." Dropping into a chair, he massaged his forehead. It was the first chink she'd witnessed in his unflappable armor.

  "My mother is a disruption we don't need."

  "I thought she took the surprise rather well."

  Despite his distraction, he grinned. "She's ticked off because we won't let her get involved in the case."

  Julie cracked up. "I have to admit . . . I love seeing your human side, Agent Barnes."

  His glance suggested
maybe she'd lost her mind. "This is serious," he insisted. "She's addicted to crime dramas. Do you know how often she begs to go on stakeouts?"

  She smiled over the image he painted.

  "If she gets a whiff of anything dangerous— she'll want in," he explained. "Be careful what you say."

  The commanding, confident Matthew Barnes was rattled by the tiny terror in the kitchen. Julie planned to enjoy every moment of it. "Since I'm the last to know anything, it should be easy, right?"

  ***

  "I guess." Wary, Matt risked a glance. Though she was enjoying this latest fiasco a little more than he liked, Julie's expression was clear of any nuance he might be required to interpret. His brain could only handle so many problems. And right now, it was on overload.

  So much for the hope of a smooth operation to prove his readiness to return to work. "This is a nightmare." Mullaney's guys would have a field day over the coming months. He could hear the jokes now. His mother showing up in the middle of an op.

  "I'm sure you've managed worse than your mother gone rogue." Lips twitching, she picked up a framed photograph, tracing the intricate silver pattern with her finger.

  "That's my sister, Alyssa and me. Her college graduation, I think."

  "She's very pretty. You all have the same smile."

  "She's supposed to be in Ireland," he muttered, distracted. But it was completely like Madeline to change plans on a whim. She'd always been a free spirit— albeit one who'd controlled her empire . . . and her family with an iron fist.

  "If you want me to distract her-" Julie's playful smile was one he'd never seen before. "I'm stuck here anyway."

  Matt was tempted. He hadn't missed the joy in his mother's eyes. Like the days she shorted a stock. Or manipulated his sister into a date with another banker. The sight of Julie probably had her brain sputtering— feverishly calculating odds over the outcome. If a woman had a pulse and was of childbearing age, she met the minimum qualifications to spawn future Barnes grandchildren. Julie was the perfect distraction to keep Madeline busy— and away from his investigation.

  "You wouldn't mind?" He lobbed the question casually, as though the outcome wasn't critical. The numerous tasks to be accomplished in the coming hours floated before his eyes. Keeping Madeline out of his hair had suddenly risen to priority one. He rose from the chair.

  Jules surprised him with a grin. "No problem."

  "You can't talk about the investigation," he warned.

  She waved a dismissive hand. "I'm a hot commodity. She'll want to know all about me," she teased.

  He really did suck at subtlety. Face heating, he sighed. "She's just-"

  "Desperate to get you married off?"

  "When she's between husbands, she has time on her hands— which spells trouble for Alyssa and me." When Julie laughed, the throaty, sexy sound made him realize he hadn't heard it much.

  "Don't worry, I'll handle everything."

  Giving in to the futility of the situation, he sighed. "Just . . . keep her busy."

  Brushing past, her voice drifted back. "No sweat, Barnes. But you'll owe me."

  Returning to the living room, Matt wasn't exactly surprised to find Mullaney deep in conversation with his mother. The old man had been bowled over— likely by her impressive ability to bully anyone in the room, regardless of rank.

  "You've been married twice? A pretty little thing like you?"

  He stared in disbelief. The grizzled old cop was interested in his mother. If he only knew— Madeline could take him out with one hand tied behind her back.

  "Three times, actually. I keep outliving husbands."

  His head whipped back to his mother. Madeline was— flirting with Mullaney? His fifty-eight year old mother was . . . blushing? Tossing his glasses on the counter, Matt pressed fingers to his eyes in a futile attempt to dull the throbbing headache. While he couldn't seem to do anything right with Jules, the old buzzard was hitting on his rich, waspy mother after only ten minutes.

  Madeline shifted her attention to Julie. "I'm about to whip up dinner for these gentlemen. Care to assist?"

  Jules shot him a knowing glance. "I'd love to. Just lead the way."

  ***

  "Wow, you're ready for the masses." Julie watched the older woman take inventory of the overstocked pantry. Hadn't she been out of the country until this afternoon?

  "I always make sauces in bulk." Catching her gaze as she surfaced from the freezer, Madeline smiled. "When the entertaining urge strikes, I'm ready."

  "I should do that," she admitted. "But I'm usually only cooking for me."

  "Even alone, we deserve to eat well." She pulled a cookbook from the crowded shelf. "I think Italian."

  "Tell me how I can help." Julie settled into the rhythm of Mrs. Stanhope's kitchen, a well-oiled machine of beautiful tools, gleaming pots and scents that soon had her stomach growling. Confusion warred with caution as Madeline peppered her with questions about the investigation. Matt's warning had been specific— say nothing. But that rule flew out the window under the satin-coated steel of his mother's interrogation skills.

  Julie spent the next hour explaining what she knew of Matt's case. Since he'd confided little, she filled in the basics. He was chasing a notorious drug dealer— whose name she didn't know.

  After a gauntlet of questions over how she'd materialized in her beloved son's life, she was relieved when Madeline finally came up for air. She'd smiled, offered her a taste of sauce and insisted on being called Maddie. Julie realized she'd passed some sort of test.

  Setting a stack of plates on the long, polished dining table, she gathered silverware from the buffet. Though modern and gleaming, Madeline's home reminded her more of a proud mom than a busy tycoon. Groupings of framed pictures of Matt and Alyssa nestled near artwork that had her instinctively keeping her hands to herself.

  "Everything smells delicious." She went to work on a wedge of pecorino, scooping shavings from the grater into a bowl.

  "My father's sauce straight from Napoli." Maddie glanced up from her recipe. "You know, dear— Matthew is an excellent cook."

  Julie hid her smile. "He cooked for me at the cottage." While accusing her of consorting with murderous drug dealers. Her perfect son had spent several days believing her guilty of a number of horrific crimes. "You did a great job."

  Maddie's cheeks flushed pink. Despite her personal agenda, Julie sensed an ally in Matt's mother. If she could finesse her into leaning on her son, she might regain her life. In trade, she'd endure Madeline's thinly veiled 'Matthew is the perfect man' comments.

  The ridiculous image of him suddenly setting aside his drug investigation— and sweeping her onto his white stallion for their happily-ever-after journey back to his place made her grin. If Madeline only knew the truth. Though her son might be attracted, he was equally suspicious she might be a murdering thug. Not exactly the stuff of fairy tales.

  "Your home is lovely." She suspended vegetable chopping to admire the late afternoon sun filtering through ephemeral clouds. From several rooms, Madeline's view of the harbor was incredible.

  "We were lucky to find this place when the kids were in middle school." Madeline added balsamic to the dressing. "What do you think of my Matthew?"

  "He’s been very protective-"

  Her eyes sparked. "He'll make a wonderful husband someday."

  Despite Madeline's prying, she realized the statement was likely true. Sadly, he just wasn't likely to be hers. When Matt's head appeared around the doorway, she startled. How long had he been standing there?

  "Quit the infomercial, Ma. Jules isn't interested in my ginsu knives."

  Maddie paused to receive a kiss on the cheek. "It's a mother's duty to brag about her unmarried son." Red lacquered nails drumming the marble, she smoothly deflected any blame. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not getting younger."

  Matt's gaze brimmed with amusement. Though she might be a master manipulator, when it came to her children, she meant well. "Try that line on Alyss
a."

  "Your sister is married to that job." Her expression withering, she continued. "By the time either of you get around to it, I'll be parked in a fancy home . . . crocheting with a magnifying glass and being fed by a candy-striper."

  Chuckling over her dark expression, Matt pulled her in for a hug.

  She was not to be placated. "My friends have grandchildren. Some of them— two! I'm the only one without heirs."

  "Heirs?" He winked at Julie. "You must have way more money than I realized." Sniffing the air appreciatively, he attempted to change the subject. "Nonni's sauce. That’s good news." Grabbing the spoon from his mother, he stole a taste.

  "Wait for dinner." She smacked his hand. "How many are out there?"

  He thought for a moment. "Finn and another guy from my office here in Boston. Mullaney's got three from state. Two more downstairs. I'd plan on about ten." Rinsing the spoon, he set it in the sink. When he shifted his scrutiny to her, she experienced a surge of awareness. "Jules— after dinner, we need to chat."

  Madeline added a dash of salt to the pot of steaming water. "Don't let him bully you, dear."

  She couldn't help smiling over Matt's aggrieved sigh. Envious of his easygoing familiarity with his mother, it was something she'd longed for. A bond she scarcely remembered. Once Delia died . . . life had never been the same.

  Wrapped in grief, she and her father had grown isolated— two broken parts that never quite managed to fill the anguished hole between them. Her dad hadn't known the business model for managing devastation. It became easier to feign ignorance of his wounded teenage daughter than acknowledge their crumbling family. Eventually, he'd treated her as an associate who required mentoring.

  Seeing Matt's family dynamic heightened her awareness— how much she'd lost. A family. A support system. Someone to confide in or just— receive a hug from. Absorbing their loving banter, Julie hid the sting of realization, grateful for the boisterous voices gathering in the hallway. For the first time in ages, she felt the loss all over again.

  ***

  "Miss Kimball, can you take a look at this deed to your other warehouse?" Finn plopped down on the couch, a sheaf of papers in his hand.