Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) (18 page)

“I’m fine,” he answered, still staring at Chloe and still unsure what he planned to do or say.

“Hey,” Danny said, almost as if demanding Cary’s attention. “Is something wrong?”

He forced his gaze away from Chloe to his partner. “Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?” Danny’s brow creased in puzzlement, then he glanced back at Chloe, still holding her napkin over her mouth, and still staring at Cary’s leg. “This is Chloe Sanders,” Danny finally said when Cary didn’t answer his prior question.

“I know,” Cary said.

“You know?” Danny asked.

“Yeah.” Cary shifted his weight to his other leg, hoping to alleviate some of the throbbing.

“You should sit down.” Chloe finally found her voice. “Here, take my seat.” She jumped up.

“No, I’m fine,” Cary insisted.

“You’re bleeding. You just had a bullet removed. You’re not fine. Now sit down before you fall down.”

Why did she remind him of his sisters? “I’m not going to fall,” he said, still shocked at her concern.

Cary felt Danny watching them. But he was too busy watching Chloe to care.

“Do you two know each other?” Danny asked.

Chloe’s big blue eyes blinked.

“She hasn’t told you?” Cary asked, and he knew that might be a little mean, but so was her going out with his partner.

Okay, fine. She had every right in the world to go out with anyone she wanted to. It wasn’t as if he had any claims on her, or even wanted any claims on her. But damn, if it didn’t still feel wrong.

She lifted one hand and put it on her hip—a sign of irritation. He knew, because when his mom and his big sister, Kelly put a hand to their hip, they were pissed. He dropped a palm on his upper thigh above his wound.

“Tell him what?” she asked and shoved the chair closer to him. “Now sit.”

“Yeah, tell me what?” Danny asked and cut his gaze back to Chloe, suspicion in his eyes.

Cary almost laughed at Chloe’s expression. He sat down and picked up the extra spoon on the dessert plate and scooped himself up a bite.  “Mmm. This is pretty good.” Then he grinned at Chloe, who was staring down at him with the most beautiful befuddled look.

“Would you like another bite?” he asked and held up the spoon.

“No,” she snapped.

“How do you two know each other?” Danny asked.

Cary wasn’t sure what possessed him to say it, but the words came out. “We went to college together.”

Surprise filled her expression. “We did?”

“Yup.” He took another bite of the dessert. “You said I looked familiar, remember?”

She frowned.

Cary smiled.

Danny leaned forward and snatched the other spoon from the dessert plate.  “When did she say you looked familiar?” He took a bite of the dessert.

“When she came to visit me in the hospital,” Cary said.

Danny looked from him to Chloe again. “You visited him in the hospital? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Then she dropped her hand from her hip. “Excuse me, I have to run to the ladies’ room.”

Both he and Danny watched her walk away.  Then Danny said, “You are going to explain this, right?”

Yup, he planned on it, just as soon as he figured it out himself.

“Is this tiramisu?” Cary asked, scooping up another bite.

“What the hell is going on?” Danny asked, and dug in for another bite himself.

“Two things,” Cary answered and went for the easiest one first. “J.D., the kid who shot me and hit her, was hanging out at Chloe’s apartment today.”

“What? Was he caught? Wait, how does he know—?”

“No, he got away. I couldn’t run.” He pointed to his leg with the spoon. “Channel 34 did a show on Chloe saving the girl, and someone at her bakery dropped the bomb about our cases being connected. I’m guessing he realizes that Chloe could identify him and wanted to make sure she didn’t testify. But . . .” He remembered how the kid just stood there as he pulled the gun on him.

“But what?”

“Something didn’t feel right.” Cary scooped up another bite.

“What didn’t feel right?”

“J.D. He didn’t have a gun and he stopped and just faced me. Just stood there for a few seconds like . . . like he almost wanted me to shoot.”

“Have you called this in?” Danny asked.

“Of course I have.” Cary took another bite of the dessert and then glanced back toward the bathroom.

“What’s the other thing?” Danny asked.

“Huh?” He glanced back at his partner.

“You said there were two things wrong. And I’m assuming the other thing has something to do with
my
date and how you two . . . seem to know each other.”

He stuck the spoon in his mouth to clean off the sweetness and to give himself another second to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he supposed he needed to know what he wanted to say before trying to decipher how to say it.

He tapped the spoon on the dessert plate while he contemplated. Then he looked up at Danny’s blue eyes. “I’m about to play the friend/partner card.”

Danny scooped up another bite of coffee flavored dessert and looked over the loaded spoon at Cary. “What card is that?”

“The ‘walk away’ card.” Cary carved out his own bite with his spoon.

Danny looked at Cary’s spoon. “I don’t suppose you’re just talking about the dessert?”

“Nope,” Cary said, and they both slipped the spoonful of dessert into their mouths at the same time.

“Hmm,” Danny said and after swallowing, he asked, “How serious is it?”

“It’s not,” Cary said.

“Then why play the card?”

“Does it matter?” Cary said, and dropped the spoon.

“Hell, yeah.” Danny pointed his utensil at Cary. “Just tell me. Have you slept with her? Has she seen you naked?”

Cary smiled, remembering rolling around on the hospital floor with her. “Naked? Yeah.” Then he remembered finding himself in her bed. He hadn’t slept, but she had. “And yes on sleeping with her.”

“Do I need to worry?” Danny asked and ran his spoon across the plate.

“About what?” Cary asked.

“About you losing your head, talking about love and jumping ship from our club like Turner did?”

“Please! I think you know me better than that,” Cary said, but even as he said it, he remembered seeing Turner and Reese together, and knowing he didn’t have that. Knowing he missed it. Not that he was going there.

Danny took the last bite of the dessert and seemed to contemplate. “I tell you what, why don’t we have her choose?”

“No,” Cary said, thinking that would go over like a fart in church.

“Why? You scared if she had to choose between the good-looking, well-dressed blonde, and the frumpy, dark-haired guy wearing sweats with a blood stain on them, you won’t do so well?” Danny’s grin told Cary the guy was teasing.

“Why don’t you just head out before she gets back?” Cary suggested.

Danny sighed. “Wouldn’t that kind of piss her off?”

“I’ll explain it.” Though in truth, he didn’t know how the hell he’d do it.

Danny pushed the black notebook containing the bill in it over to Cary. “Fine, but if you get the girl, you’re gonna get the bill.”

Get the girl.
Was he going to get the girl? Why was it that the thought sent a wave of pleasure, followed by a bigger wave of trepidation?

• • •

Chloe used the restroom and then stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind running in high gear. Why was Cary here?  Butterflies did cartwheels around her stomach, sending her emotions scrambling. Excitement, fear, embarrassment.

Was he going to tell Dan that she’d walked in on him naked?

Remembering the voicemails on her computer, and needing a good excuse to not return to the table so quickly, she checked to see who’d called.

Chloe, this is Cary. Cary Stevens. You . . . came up to my room. My hospital room. I was . . . naked. Not that me being naked has anything to do with . . . Shit. Can you call me back ASAP?

He’d called her. The sound of embarrassment in his voice brought on a smile. Her next intake of air tasted sweeter.

He remembered her. He had to. Why else would he be calling?

But what now? What was the protocol? She’d never quite been in this situation. On a date with one guy, when the guy she’d really like to date stopped by.

She reached in her purse for her lipstick, armed herself with a glossy red, and went to figure it out.

Chapter Nineteen

J.D. pulled over on a dead end street in a not-so-good neighborhood. The streetlights were out, so darkness surrounded him. But he could hear some kids down the block playing. Laughing and being kids.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to just be a kid.

Even after he moved in with his grandmother, he’d been too guarded to just play. He’d already been beaten by his stepdad and stopped being a kid then.

He looked up at the sign at the edge of the street. Dead end. Just like his life. Or maybe he’d just hoped. He’d given that cop ample time to shoot him. Why hadn’t he?  He was almost certain it was the same guy he’d shot last week. Hadn’t he even been limping?

It would have been easier if the guy would have ended it. J.D. would rather be killed by him, than that son-of-a-bitch Jax. At least he deserved to be shot by the cop. J.D. hadn’t done shit to Jax.

Damn it! He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. He wanted it all to stop. He looked down at the passenger side floorboard. His powder was there. It would offer him an escape.

It was then he realized he hadn’t even touched the stuff he’d gotten earlier. Maybe he was punishing himself? Not letting himself forget what he’d done.  He didn’t deserve to forget.

He had to fix this. But was he too late? Had Jax already gotten to the woman? Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. He knew that cop thought he’d been there to hurt the woman. Which meant if Jax got to her now, the cops would think he’d done it.

Who would believe him that he’d gone there to warn her?

No one. Not one damn person would believe in him.

He reached down for his powder, but shot back up when a splash of headlights flashed across his truck.

• • •

Chloe made her way through the restaurant, back to face Dan and Cary. She stopped when she got her first glimpse of the table.

Cary was sitting where Dan had been, pulling out a credit card from his wallet. Dan was gone. To the bathroom, maybe? She looked back to see if she spotted him.

Nope.

Finally, she moved closer, watching Cary reach for the black book that held the ticket.

“What are you doing?” she asked, standing beside the empty chair.

“Uh, just . . . taking care of the bill.”

“Why?” She looked around expecting to find. . . “Where’s Dan?”

Cary started tapping his card on the table. “He . . . had to . . .” tap, tap, tap . . .  “go.”

Okay, this was a shocker. And a first. She’d never been dumped by her date.  Then came the shocker. She didn’t mind at all. That’s when she recalled Sheri saying one option was to date Dan just to get Cary’s attention.

Had she set out to do that? Hell, she didn’t care.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested.

She dropped into the chair. Then she dug her wallet out of her purse. “Where did Dan go?”

“I don’t . . .” He ran a hand over his face, stared down at the credit card he continued to tap against the table. Finally, he glanced up. “I asked him to leave.”

Her breath caught. “Why?” Would he tell her now? That he remembered her?

“Would you believe me if I told you I was still trying to figure that out myself?”

“I might. Just a little bit.”  She kind of felt that way herself. Trying to figure out why she felt this odd connection thing to him.

She sat her purse on the table, and searching for her wallet, she pulled her phone out. Wallet found, she retrieved her credit card then she reached for the black book that had the bill tucked inside.

“I got this.” He put his hand on top of the book.

“No, you don’t.” She held out her hand. “This isn’t even our date.”

“I kind of hijacked it. And I ate the dessert.”

“Why?”

“I like tiramisu.”

She frowned. He knew that wasn’t what she was asking. But part of her couldn’t blame him for not putting his cards on the table, when she held her own so close to her chest.

She stretched out her palm. “Hand it over, Buster.”

“So you’re one of those.” Humor filled his eyes.

She shot him a serious look. “One of what?”

“Independent types. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Actually, I’m not one of those. I have no problem letting a guy pay when he asks me out on a date.”

“So what’s the problem?” he asked.

“You didn’t ask me,” she said.

“I see,” he said. He almost smiled, relented, and passed her the bill. “Fine. I’ll pick up the next one.”

Is there going to be a next one?
The question sat on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t push it out.

The silence lingered, she glanced down at her phone still on the table and added, “I got your messages.” She couldn’t hide the smile.

“Yeah. I hate leaving voicemails.”

“I kind of hate walking into a room with a naked guy.”

“You do that often?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with humor, and darn if it wasn’t the sexiest smile she’d ever seen.

“All the time,” she said.

He laughed and so did she. And she felt it again. That feeling she’d gotten with him earlier. As if they were in sync. And she hadn’t felt that with his partner. Had she even felt that with Jerry? She couldn’t remember. Then she pushed thoughts of Jerry from her mind.

“Why are you here?” the question just spilled out.

Cary’s gaze lingered on her for a second and the humor seemed to fade. “I . . . went by your apartment. J.D. Stewart, the kid who shot me and hit you, was in your parking lot.”

“He was?” The butterflies in her stomach started fluttering to another tune.  “Why would he be . . . and how . . . did you catch him?”