Fall Gently (Red Light: Silver Girls series) (16 page)

"Leave it." He lifted his chin. "I'll show you where you'll be staying."

He walked down the short hallway and stayed outside the room. "You can have whatever is in there to use."

"I can't do that." She peered inside. "I have everything I need in my suitcase."

A twin bed with a plush yellow comforter stood beside the small window. Band posters decorated the wall. Only a few she recognized as groups that started underground in Seattle and never made it big. A desk, much like one a teenager used for homework sat in the corner covered in clothes that never made it to the closet. A dresser completed the room, and on the surface were more pictures in frames. Also, a few pieces of jewelry, a book, and an assortment of hair accessories littered the top.

"If you can get me a few boxes, I'd be happy to box her things up and put them in the closet." She looked back at Dawson standing in the hallway looking away from the room. "You don't have to deal with anything right now, but her things will be safe, and there's probably some belongings you'll be glad you kept."

He shook his head. "If you don't take them, I'll toss them in the dumpster in back. There's nothing there that means anything."

"Someday, you might—"

"I'm going out to grab us some food. Stay inside the apartment. I won't be long." He walked away.

She leaned out the doorway of the bedroom and watched him run from the memories of his sister. Unqualified and inadequate to help him or say the right thing, she let her head fall against the doorframe and flinched when the front door clicked shut.

"God, I hate the sound of doors," she whispered.

Mentally and physically exhausted from the road trip, she pushed off the doorframe and stopped. An open door across the hall piqued her curiosity. She stepped over and studied the inside of the room.

The male version of the same room she'd be staying in; Dawson's double bed was made. There were no clothes scattered around, and he had two pictures hanging on the wall. She quietly walked into the room, even though she was alone and there was no one around to hear her. Snooping was rude, but she wanted to find out more about him.

Who he loved, what he enjoyed doing, where he spent his time?

She leaned closer to study the larger picture. A woman, a boy, and a girl. She recognized Dawson first. He had the same lopsided grin she'd witnessed a couple of times. In the photo, Dawson's hair verged on shaggy and brushed the collar of his striped shirt. He had his hands in his pockets, and his head leaned against the side of the woman who had her arms around both children.

Jacqueline, probably two or three years old in the photo, stood on one foot. Her other leg bent as if itching her bare leg under her short summer dress. Her hair curled and pulled back with barrettes; she appeared solemn as if she had something else to do besides have her picture taken.

Dawson and Jacqueline's mother beamed at the camera. Roni smiled and ran her thumb over the picture. Their mom was beautiful.

Dressed in cutoff shorts and wearing a blouse, Dawson's mom squinted against the sun. The pride in her kids evident in the way she kept them close to her. Not to keep them in the camera's focus, but to shout to the world how much she loved them.

Roni turned away from the picture. Hit with regrets for not remembering to take her mom's picture out of her room when she ran away from her stepdad; she stopped herself from thinking about all she'd lost. The only memories she had were in her head and at times even those grew fuzzy. She couldn't remember what her mom's perfume smelled like, but knew she always sprayed the air and walked into the mist. Then she'd laugh as if sharing a secret only another woman would understand and shared her happiness with Roni.

She still remembered the warmth she gained from being with her mom.

The smaller picture had Dawson standing by the black car he drove today. His hair longer back then, she wondered what year the photo was taken. She looked closer and gasped.

There were members of Sparrows behind the car talking.

She knocked the picture down. The glass broke at her feet.

Her heart raced, glancing around for answers on what to do. She'd broken something special of his, and he'd find out she entered his room. Worried about what he'd do when he returned home and found the damage, she picked up the broken frame and brushed the tiny, jagged glass in a pile with her hand and picked every piece up.

Her hand stung. She looked down and found blood dotting her right hand.

"Shit," she mumbled, leaving the room and going inside her new room.

Opening the top dresser drawer, she set the broken picture frame inside. Holding her hand to her chest, she went searching for the bathroom and found one at the end of the short hallway. The blood ran down her forearm, and she shoved her whole arm in the sink and turned on the faucet.

The water ran pale red. Eyeing the wounds, she winced at the sting. The cuts weren't deep, but there were bits of glass still caught in her skin. She gritted her teeth and started pulling out the shards.

Maybe Dawson wouldn't notice the missing picture. He'd been gone four years in prison and barely had time at home before he left to search for her. If he came home and found out she'd not only ruined a beloved picture but snooped in his room, she'd be deep trouble.

R
oni stood behind him silently nibbling on her thumbnail. Dawson closed the refrigerator after putting all the food away. He'd hurried through the grocery store afraid she'd run away when he was gone and ended up calling Scott, a Sparrows member who worked in the chop shop with him and escaped getting thrown in prison, to watch the apartment building to make sure Roni stayed inside.

His relief at returning and knowing she never attempted to leave was short lived. The air inside the apartment hummed with an awkwardness they hadn't experienced since his first week at Red Light when she doubted his story. After everything they'd been through until now, he never thought they'd have a problem communicating.

He turned around and grabbed one of the empty paper sacks and folded the bag flat. His movements jerky, he stayed aware of her watching him. She'd followed him back and forth from door to kitchen as he brought in the groceries and barely mumbled a greeting.

Setting down the last sack on the pile he'd created on the counter, he planted his hands on the Formica and looked at her. "It's okay to talk."

At least when she spoke to him, he could distract himself. As it was, he was glad for the counter separating him from Roni. Just having her in the apartment, walking around barefooted, and smelling every room up with wintergreen felt like foreplay to him.

She took her thumbnail out of her mouth. "Do you want me to cook your dinner?"

"Do you know how to cook?" he asked.

Her eyes widened. "Um, if I don't know how to cook something you want to eat, I can Google on the phone. I don't have a problem following directions."

He chuckled, relaxing a bit with her giving him attitude back. "Fair enough, sweetheart."

"So..." She walked around the end of the counter and stood in front of him. "Are you hungry?"

He inhaled deeply, breathing her in, and gazed at her partially opened mouth. "Starved."

Even answering her squeezed his balls, giving him a rush.

"What do you feel like eating?" She moved in front of him, opened the fridge, and bent over to peer at the lower shelves.

He looked down at her ass, three inches from his crotch. Never before had he enjoyed having such a small kitchen. "How about burgers?"

"Okay." She straightened and reached for the freezer door handle.

He scratched his head at the loss of her. "I changed my mind."

She glanced over her shoulder. "About dinner or me staying here?"

"Whoa." He turned her around and kept his hands on her waist. "Where did that question come from?"

She shrugged. He pulled her closer until she leaned into his lower body. Holding her against him, he exhaled and enjoyed the warmth and feminine curves.

She yawned. He brought his right hand up and laid her head against his chest. "You're tired. You're scared. You're not cooking dinner tonight."

"But, you're hungry," she mumbled against his shirt.

"I'll cook. You'll be the guest tonight, and we can figure who cooks tomorrow." He kissed the top of her head. "Sit down at the table and keep me company while I fry us a burger."

She looked up at him. "Thank you."

"For what?" He moved toward the stove.

"For everything." She sighed. "You've been a saint, and I've put you through a lot."

He put the skillet on the burner and stepped over to the freezer. He was many things. An asshole, a felon, a son, a brother, a Sparrows.

He was no saint.

The frozen pre-made patties broke apart in his hands. He carried two to the skillet and turned the burner on medium-high.

"How do you like yours cooked?" he asked.

"Well done."

"Jacqueline likes them..." He closed his eyes, letting the burn seep into his head.

There were times he forgot his sister was gone. Those times were worse than living every minute knowing she was dead. He still couldn't believe she'd never run through the door, yapping about some boy who teased her or upset that one of her girlfriends talked behind her back, and Jacqueline would swear she'd never leave the apartment again.

He'd hated those times after his mom died. Eight years older than Jacqueline, he never wanted to be tied down looking after a sister who pushed and pulled on any given occasion. But, he missed the brat more than anything.

"You know, it's good for you to talk about her."

"Nothing to say." He opened his eyes and retrieved the buns and took out the condiments. "Anything you don't like on your hamburger?"

"Onions," said Roni.

He cut the head of lettuce, sliced a tomato, opened the jar of pickles, and removed two pieces of pre-sliced cheese before he flipped the burgers.

"I'll put everything on the buns," she said getting up from her chair.

He turned and found her right in front of him. "You should rest."

"I did when you were shopping." She put her hand on the front of the cabinet drawer. "Knives?"

He nodded, leaning back against the fridge, and watched her. She moved around the kitchen unsure what to do at first and gave him a slight smile before opening the fridge and taking out the jar of mayonnaise. Once she had everything in front of her, she made fast work of dressing the buns.

Her ass jiggled in her sweatpants when she shook the bottle of ketchup. The base of his spine tingled, and his cock pulsed to life. He couldn't look away. If he reached out, he could touch her and drag her back against him, rub against her ass, bend her over.

She stepped back and turned right into him. He caught her hips and steadied her.

"Sorry." She laid her hands on his chest. "I was going to, uh, get the towel...by the sink."

"The towel?" His fingers smoothed over the slope of her hip.

"I dribbled some..." She closed her mouth and swallowed, staring up at him. "Pickle juice. On the counter."

"Leave it," he muttered.

"What?" Her soft laughter cut off and she stared at her hands planted on his chest.

The tips of her fingers pressed on him. He let his head fall forward and gazed down at their bodies. She fit perfectly against him. Tall enough to kiss her without breaking his neck, and her legs—fuck, she had long legs. Her hips were at the perfect height for him to guide her.

Smoke drifted in his peripheral vision. He glanced at the stove.

"Shit." He let her go, reached over, and took the skillet off the burner.

Roni picked up the towel and wiped the counter. "They're still eatable."

He took the patties and put them on the buns. His appetite gone, he wanted to go back to holding Roni and knowing damn well he couldn't.

Roni carried the plates to the table. He followed, widening his walk to make room for his cock that wouldn't settle down.

He couldn't stay here and pretend he wasn't thinking about fucking her on the table. "Do you think you'll be okay for an hour or two?"

"Tonight?" She frowned. "Sure. I mean, if you need to do something, go ahead. I don't want to keep you from what you normally do when you're home."

He picked up the burger. "I'll lock the door behind me."

"You're not going to sit and eat first?"

"Nah. I'll finish eating it before I reach my car." He took a bite and talked around the food as he strolled to the door. "You'll probably be asleep when I get home, so I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything, use your cell phone to reach me."

He slipped out the door, locking it behind him, and walked down the steps at the end of the hallway. He'd call Scott and have him come back and keep an eye on the building. It was time to check in with Jerald and Luchek and find out if he had a way to support himself and Roni. And, for his sake, he hoped Roni was fast asleep when he returned. He needed relief, and he wasn't going to find it with her shaking her ass in his apartment.

T
he front door of the apartment opened and shut. Roni stopped pacing the small bedroom. Her whole life she waited for the sound of a door, hating what came next. Nothing good ever happened.

For the first time, she'd stayed up to listen for Dawson coming home.

His two hours away had turned into four, and she worried something happened to him. Then she worried that she'd upset him when she'd touched his chest while making dinner.

The worries continued until she'd made herself sick after finishing her hamburger. She'd lost the contents of her stomach and had to eat ten mints back to back until she convinced herself that Dawson had his life to lead, and whatever kept him away from the apartment had nothing to do with her.

Another door closed, closer and louder than the first one—his bedroom. She walked over to the door on her bedroom and listened. Her heartbeat filled the silence until another soft click came from the other side of the door, and she assumed he'd reopened his bedroom. He was probably looking for the missing picture and getting madder every second.