Homeless Heart (2 page)

Chapter Two

A bone-chilling shiver woke her. Dusk shadowed the surrounding woods of her camp. Kelly rolled over and fumbled through her pack, searching for the old watch Steve had found in a trash can outside of Target. Her days and nights were often mixed up, accepting sleep when it would come.

Squinting through the scratched face, she saw it was already after seven. Autumn was closing in, the days now shorter and cooling down in the evening. She sat up and slipped out of the warmth she didn’t want to leave, but there was work to be done. She needed to continue to stockpile the wood, and some food would be helpful. While rolling up her bedroll, her eyes landed on a small paper bag, the grease bleeding through.

Steve was here!

Kelly grabbed the bag and peered inside. A small, foil-wrapped package had her grappling down into the bag. After Kelly sat down on a nearby log and put on her sneakers, she unwrapped what was an egg sandwich. She bit into it. Though it was cold, her stomach was thankful.

After her routine—which consisted of trekking to the outdoor restroom that Sam left open for her, washing up, and collecting her firewood—she’d go into town and see if she could find Steve. There were several places he could be. Marshall’s Creek, a small, rural town in Pennsylvania, was only so big. She could search the perimeter and surely find him.

Steve had become a close friend. He’d been on the streets for almost five years. Steve was once a successful hair stylist, owner of his own shop. After his wife’s affair he’d been devastated, throwing his life into the downward spiral of drug addiction. Though now clean, he’d lost it all, never reclaiming his life.

He’d come to her aid almost immediately. Steve looked out for her, often finding Kelly her meals and guiding her to the most fruitful locations. Steve knew that Sam was a connection from Kelly’s previous life. Sam had supplied her parents with propane for over twenty years. Steve never stayed overnight with Kelly. He’d told her if he tarnished her arrangement with Sam, he’d never forgive himself.

* * * *

Kelly emerged from the restroom as refreshed as she could be. Twice a week she and Steve would walk to the truck stop off of Exit 42 and shower. Sometimes Steve would have enough change to run their clothes through the washing machine. Kelly often hand-washed her undergarments in the sink, hanging them up to dry beneath her tarp.

A dark sky loomed above, the black dome starless. She tucked her toiletries away in her pack and planned to walk into town in search of Steve. As Kelly was zipping up her pack, the crunching of tires on stone dragged her attention back to the main building of Union Gas and Propane.

Her eyes narrowed. A sleek, black Lexus was pulled over. The headlights slowly dimmed. The parking lights illuminated the surrounding area with soft amber light that began to fade.

Kelly slowly rose to her feet when the car door opened. Footsteps sounded over the stones as the hood popped open.

Her breath caught. A tall man, his legs long, encased in what looked like expensive gabardine as he leaned over the failing engine. A cool wind gusted through the trees, holding a fragrance that smelled as classy as he looked.

Kelly cautiously walked near the edge of the wooded hedgerow that surrounded the parking lot, wanting a closer look. She huddled behind a tree as he touched and wiggled wires. He shook his head and stepped away from the vehicle. Taking a cell phone from the upper pocket of his suit jacket, he made a call. He ran his fingers through dark waves of stiffly styled hair.

“Damn it!” His angered tone drifted through the quiet air, reaching her ears. Kelly leaned into the tree’s trunk, her fingers digging into the bark. He jammed the phone back into his pocket and began to pace, circling the car, gazing into the surrounding darkness.

His cell must be dead.

Kelly picked up her pack and dug for the small flashlight. She tucked it inside the pocket of an old fleece jacket Steve had scored at a consignment shop last week, knowing she’d need it to deal with the autumn temperatures. She turned on the flashlight, lighting a tiny area at her feet as she walked toward the stranded motorist.

When her footsteps hit the gravel, he spun around on his heel, his body tight and at attention. His eyes narrowed, searing into her. Kelly wanted to help, but the feeling that was rolling through her stomach told her that she may have made a naive assumption about her stranded, frustrated guest.

“Only want to help,” Kelly called out to him, her hands raised. Gravelly laughter rose into the air between them. The outside lights that Sam had on a sensor lit up the corners of the building, illuminating the parking lot. Kelly knew how to dodge them at night to keep them from drawing attention to her occupancy.

“I don’t know what you can do,” he scoffed. His face was thin and chiseled, model-like. Bright teeth glowed against his face as his mouth curled into a snide smile.

“Hey, buddy.” Kelly chuckled right back at him, not caring for his condescending tone. Her eyes slinked over the car, lowering to his shoes, the shiny leather now dusty. “It’s up to you,” she told him, her tone more angered than anxious.

He backpedaled. “I’m sorry…I just think I might need a tow,” he said, his expression softening. “My phone is dead. As you can see, I’m not having a good night here,” he said, laughing sarcastically.

Yeah, I bet your life is real rough.
“Mind if I take a look?” Kelly moved closer.

“Sure,” he said, waving her on.

Chapter Three

Kelly handed him the flashlight. He held it above their heads as she looked at the complex wires of what was probably a $40,000 car. She had a basic knowledge of a car engine, thanks to her father teaching her all the basics when she’d first gotten her license, but today’s engines were much more complex and mostly computerized.

Feeling her throat close on a pending sob, Kelly shook off the memory of her father instructing her with his tools. She wiggled several wires that looked like they’d been chewed through or singed by something. Kelly bundled the wires together and rerouted them into what she thought might be the alternator housing, thinking that may be hindering the vital connection he needed.

“These wires look a bit tattered, did you know that?”

“No,” he mumbled, leaning closer. His clean, rich scent assaulted her nose, nostrils that weren’t accustomed to a fragrance as intense as his.

Their eyes held. Their faces inches apart. She leaned away slightly, thinking she’d felt his warm breath on her mouth.
God, I hope I don’t stink.
She’d just taken a shower two days ago, but it was hard to keep the odors out of her hair, which she kept tied up.

“I’m gonna go get some electrical tape and see what I can do,” she told him, stepping back.

He walked around the car and sat down in the driver’s seat to wait. Kelly wiped her hands down the front of her jeans and headed for the restroom.

Sam had been generous enough to leave a Rubbermaid bin on the floor underneath the sink for her with an assortment of items. Sam really wasn’t a bad guy, just ornery at times.

Kelly ran over to the side of the building and went into the restroom, retrieving the tape. She kept her eyes on him as she quickly walked back to the front of his car. He was back on his feet, his back to her, his white dress shirt an iridescent reflector in the dark.

She wrapped the wires, feeding them through and securing them inside. When he returned to the driver’s seat and turned the key, the engine suddenly came to life. Kelly lowered the hood, closing it gently. The car door slammed closed before the window lowered between them. He glanced up at her.

“Thank you. I’m Drake, by the way,” he said, extending his hand. Gelled waves of hair fell over his brow, his appearance fading in the late hour. Kelly’s gaze dipped down to his outstretched hand. Hesitation barreled through her at the thought of disclosing her name.

“My hand’s all oily,” Kelly said, her words rushed.

You’re nothing but a homeless loser. He won’t remember you by the time he gets to the nearest intersection

“Kelly…Kelly Jenson. Glad I could help,” she said dryly.
Did I just give him my last name?
She backed away from his vehicle, waving. “Have a safe trip,” she called, not wanting to continue with any sort of conversation. Kelly quickly turned and moved toward the woods, wanting to slip back into the darkness, unseen and hopefully forgotten.

She sat down, suddenly feeling exhausted. She’d find Steve tomorrow and thank him for the sandwich. Despite the darkness, a thicker gloom seemed to slowly drip over her. Seeing and talking to people like him just made her circumstances all the more ugly.

* * * *

A female was the last person he expected to come to his aid. Not that he was a chauvinist. Drake wasn’t even sure where she’d come from, not seeing her approach clearly. He shook his head. Did she work there?
What was that place?
Aside from her clothes being a bit dirty, he really didn’t have much to go on.

She seemed too intuitive to be a vagrant, though he knew they were around. Maybe she worked the night shift, security or something at wherever the hell he just was.
Why am I even thinking about this?
Was it because there was a certain kind of attractiveness about her?

Though her hair was up, the strands were a dark gold, looking like brandy, unless the lighting had fooled him. Her eyes were big, expressive, and maybe green.
Who knows?
Through the dark shadows he’d gotten a look at her body. She had a nice stature, petite but not skinny. She had nice, sensual curves that belonged on a woman. She had everything she should and nothing she shouldn’t, except money maybe—not that he gave a shit about that. It appeared that his economic status had forced him into a circle that disgusted him.

Surely Nina had given up on him and gone home, home to a daddy who never let her sleep over. “I’m gonna hear a rash of shit for this one,” Drake muttered. It’d been a brutal day, in and out of meetings all day. He found himself hoping that Nina had gone home. Some nights he just didn’t have the stamina for her.

As Drake drove through Cypress Hill, his mind wandered. He never went through Marshall’s Creek on his way home. Why tonight? If he’d taken the interstate, he may have been in worse trouble.

Marshall’s Creek and Cypress Hill was where the definite division of the classes was separated. The line was bold enough for anyone to see. Drake tried not to think like that, but being raised by the type of people his parents were made it difficult. He often questioned where he came from. His parents irritated him as much as his associates did.

Drake checked his phone that he’d plugged into the car charger. It was still dead. Drake disconnected the cord. He added the purchase of another phone to his list of things to do.

He slowly pulled into the gated community of Berkley Ridge. Drake felt an exhausted breath huff out of his mouth at the sight of Nina’s silver BMW parked at the curb. He looked down at the dash. The numbers glowed: almost nine. He reached above and pressed the electronic opener to the garage door. Drake eased the car in, pressing the button again. Darkness enveloped him as the door descended.

Leaving his briefcase in the back seat, he ambled inside, feeling tired but edgy. When Nina opened the door wearing a red negligée, Drake knew the night wasn’t over.

Chapter Four

“What happened, baby?” Nina’s face pinched with what Drake saw as a glower of suspicion.

“Car trouble,” Drake said, leaning into her cheek, giving her a quick kiss.

“Well, it looks like you could use a drink.” She smiled, handing him his scotch. Drake took the glass and raised it to his lips. The tension that was already wrapping around him with a deadly suffocation had Drake tipping the entire contents of the glass back. The liquor scorched down his throat, numbing him.

“That bad?” Nina asked, leaning a hip into the edge of the sofa. Drake slipped out of his jacket and laid it over the arm. It slid against the polished leather, pooling on the cushion.

“Just a lot of bullshit today, that’s all.” Drake downplayed it all, needing her animated cooing to stop. Her dark nipples looked like small raisins that wanted to sprout through the rosy-colored lace.

“Well, I’m a bit itchy.” Nina giggled. Bourbon vanished between her vibrantly painted, red lips. Drake knew what that meant. After almost two years of a draining relationship, Drake knew Nina wanted to fuck.

“Can I shower first?” Drake asked, loosening his tie.

“I’ll be waiting.” Nina crooked a brow.

* * * *

Drake toweled off, mustering up the energy for Nina. Beneath all of her good looks, fat wallet, and well-practiced social charm, Nina Verance loved to fuck. If her rich daddy knew all the kinkiness she was into, he’d suffer a coronary.

Once the steam cleared after Drake opened the bathroom door, Nina came into focus. She was naked, sitting in his favorite upholstered chair. Her legs were spread wide, draped over the curved mahogany arms. She no doubt could make his cock stir and stand at attention. It was the emotions that were lacking in their relationship. Her slender fingers combed through the bare lips of her pussy, which she kept waxed diligently. Her brown eyes blazed, her nostrils flaring with a hunger Drake could never seem to feed.