Like a Knife (19 page)

At last they lay lazy and full, and when Rachel stood up, she was also a little sore. A small private lilt slanted inside her as she realized why, and she looked up at the moon with happy, dreamy eyes.

From his prone position, Nick wrapped a hand around her ankle. "Where are you going?"

She pulled on his T-shirt and smiled down at him. "I don't know. For a walk."

She was leaning against the car, looking out over the ocean when he found her. He came toward her on bare feet, wearing only jeans. The moon washed his naked chest with silver, highlighting his muscular smoothness. Struck dumb, she shivered at the sight.

If Nick noticed, he didn't say. He crossed his arms, surveying her and the car with critical eyes. She could only imagine what she looked like. Half naked, hair in a wild tangle, mouth swollen from his.

"Where did you get this heap anyway?"

"It was my father's." She made room for him as he settled beside her. "He left it to me when he died." She sighed. "I once let all the air out of the tires, hoping that would keep him home." '

"Did it?"

"You don't become a legend in your own time by staying home and having tea parties with your daughter."

He slung an arm around her. "So that's why you don't want to help with the book."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "You're still mad at him. For the tea parties... and everything else he missed."

"I'm not mad-" She stopped. She
was
mad. Not only for her father's abandonment of her, but because he died before she could forgive him.

She blinked into the darkness as sudden tears threatened. God, not now. Not when everything had been so beautiful. She didn't want to think about her father tonight.

Nick hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. The comfort helped ease the swift rash of emotion mat had surged out of nowhere. With a deep breath, she snuggled deeper into the safety of his embrace.

"It's funny, how we cling to each other," he said in a soft, distant voice. "No matter how he betrays you, no matter how many wrongs he does, your father is still that-your father. You can hate him, but even hate is just the twisted side of love."

Was he talking about her or himself? David Goodman or Rennie Spier?

As if he'd heard her thoughts, he said, "He was a dream, like God reaching down and plucking me up to heaven."

"Who was?"

"Rennie." He was gazing out over the horizon, lost in thought "I was, I don't know, thirteen maybe. I'd been in and out of foster homes, group homes, every kind of home but the real thing. Somehow, I always found myself back on the street." He paused. "The thing I remember most is being hungry all the time. That last year was the worst. I'd grown a foot. Just shot up out of nowhere. When you're little, cadging for money and food is a breeze. But when you're edging up near six feet, it's a whole other story. I got caught shoplifting twice. The first time I talked the owner out of calling the police. The second time I ran. Scared the shit out of me. I'd been in juvie before, and it was worse than starving to death on the street."

"What did you do?"

He fell silent again, and she sensed he was wondering how much to reveal, how much to hold back.

"You don't have to tell me anything, Nick."

He gazed at her, a self-deprecating expression on his face. "You already know the worst, what difference could a few more sins make?"

"No difference at all."

He smiled and unwound his arm from around her. Tracing the line of her cheek, he gave the end of her nose ar light tap. "Where do you come from, Rachel Goodman? Are you some fairy sprite sent from another world?"

"I'm as real as you are."

"No." His mouth quirked into a sad smile. "Not nearly as real. At least I hope not. So-" He swooped down and picked up a piece of driftwood. "Want to know what I did to keep myself from starving?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

He turned the piece of wood over in his hand. "I stood watch for drug dealers, pimps, loan sharks. I had a nice racket stealing car radios, CD players, cell phones. Anything I could get my hands on."

"Oh, Nick..."

He took a step away from her and with a tight, cruel toss, flung the driftwood back toward the shore. "Christ, it's been a long time since I thought about any of mis."

"Nick, you don't have to-"

"It's okay. Like I said, it was a long time ago. It doesn't even matter anymore."

"It does matter." A quick bolt of anger darted through her. "Where were social services in all this? How could they just let you fend for yourself like that?"

"Kids slip through the cracks all the time."

Yes.
Like Carla and all the other kids she'd never be able to rescue.

"Let's see." He braced an elbow against the car while he marshaled his memories. "I guess that's when I met Marty. He told me about a car ring that specialized in high-end imports, stuff like that. We offered our services, but we were just two dumb kids, and they laughed us out of the place, But roe next day-" He smiled at some memory and shook his head; "The very next day, we spotted this incredible Porsche. Flaming yellow, bright as the sun. If we could steal that, I told Marty, those dickheads would take us seriously."

"And did you?"

He laughed. "Not exactly. Frank caught us red-handed. I thought he was going to kill us both."

"But he didn't."

"No," he said quietly, "he didn't."

"How come?"

"I don't know. Rennie took a shine to me." He shrugged. "One of life's little mysteries."

"What about your parents?"

"Another black hole. I have only one clear memory, and to this day I'm not sure what it is." He squinted into the dark as if he was watching the scene unfold. "It's night. Very cold. I'm five, maybe six, hunkered over a street grate that spews steam from the subways. Someone tells me to stay there while they find something, food maybe, or a place to sleep. I don't even know if it was a man or a woman. When I try to focus on a face, the scene... floats apart. Like mist. All I remember is how cold I was, and then suddenly this billow of wannth puffs up from the street, and I wanted to stay there forever."

He paused, then continued in a subdued voice. "You know, there was a minute in the alley in Panama... when I saw that kid... It was like looking at myself staring back at me."

The sound of waves filled the silence. Then he blew out a deep whoosh of breath. "Shit." Turning away, he put both hands on the little car and leaned in at arm's length. Head down, he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control.

Gently, Rachel laid a hand on his bare back.

"I should have stopped Marty," he said. "I should have just rucking stopped him." He turned back around, and in the moonlight she saw the agony on his face. "I shouldn't have even been there. I hated that kind of stuff. I was no good at it. Everyone knew it."

"Why did they send you, then?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "But I didn't question it. I was a good soldier. I did what I was told. Besides, I wanted to go. Shelley had just given me my walking papers, and I was so messed up, I couldn't think straight. Killing someone sounded like a good idea."

"You cared about her that much?" Would she always have to contend with Shelley's ghost?

"Cared about her?" He appeared struck by that idea. "God, who knows. I cared about having her, I know that. It was like having a piece of Rennie."

"Do you mean it was like having something that belonged to him? Like... like stealing from him?"

He bent down, running his hand over tufts of dune grass. Rachel knelt beside him while the ocean rumbled behind.

"She was Rennie's wife, Nick. Sleeping with her was not only dangerous, it was a terrible betrayal of the man who'd literally rescued you from the gutter."

He rose and looked down at her, an acrid curve to his mouth. "I'm a nasty piece of work. I've told you that from the beginning."

"That's a matter of opinion," she snapped. "But whatever you are, you're not stupid. I can see you taking the risk if you loved her, but if you didn't-"

"Maybe I did love her." Irritation edged his voice. "I don't know. She was like a fever. Like some virus infecting me."

"So you couldn't help yourself?"

"I didn't want to help myself."

"Why?"

"She was the best fuck I'd ever had, that's why!" His eyes blazed at her. "All right? Satisfied?" He went to the blanket and started jerking up their clothes. "What difference does it make why I started sleeping with her? I'm not proud of it, but I did it. I'll tell you one thing. The nightmares stopped when I started sleeping with her. I loved her for that, if for nothing else."

Nightmares?
"You had nightmares?"

He looked at her, then away. "I... I sometimes woke up crying. For a couple of years before Shelley and I-" With a sharp movement, he bundled the clothes together, then collected the four sneakers scattered about, all the while avoiding her eyes.

"Did you tell anyone?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? I barely acknowledged it to myself."

"What did you do?"

He sat back on his haunches and looked at her. "I started drinking, that's what I did. And I stopped reading the papers, I avoided the radio and TV."

"Whoa-" Rachel laughed. "You stop watching TV because you had nightmares? If TV gave people nightmares, half the country would be afflicted."

"Half the country doesn't see the things they pander shredding people to bits."

The smile died on her lips. "Oh, Nick." She looked down at her hands so he wouldn't see the pity in her eyes. "If you felt mat way, why didn't you just leave?"

"Rennie wouldn't have let me. Not then. I was still too useful to him. It was only when I became completely dysfunctional that he let me go."

She looked over at him. His dark eyes were two pieces of night, deep with self-contempt. Suddenly, she understood. "So you arranged it."

"Arranged what?"

"To become dysfunctional."

He frowned. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? At great risk and personal dishonor you sleep with a woman you don't even love. Why?"

"I told you, she was like a drug, like-"

Rachel shook her head. "I don't buy that. Oh, I'm sure the sex was great." She smiled at him. "Then again, sex with you would have to be great."

"Thank you, Dr. Ruth."

She ignored his sarcasm. "But there's more to it than just sex."

"Or should I say, Dr. Freud?"

"You were having nightmares, you wanted out, but you were trapped. So if you couldn't leave, what could you do?"

Arms crossed, he looked at her with glacial eyes.

Come on, Nick. Listen. Think.
"What could you do?"

"I could get even."

Yes.
"You could take a piece of Rennie. Steal his most LIKE A KNIFE

257

precious, most intimate possession. What did Rennie do to people who stole from him?"

"You know what he did."

"Yes, and that's one way out, isn't it?" Nick stared at her, and she plunged on. "You ever hear of death by cop? Some guys want to die so badly, they force the police into a situation where they have to shoot to kill."

"So this is death by Spier?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's crazy."

She shrugged. "Desperate people do desperate things."

"I wasn't that desperate." But something in his voice belied his words. "Besides, Fm still here." He spread his arms, indicating his obvious presence in the world.

"That's because Shelley ended your affair. Rennie won again. And then, they sent you to Panama."

He scowled at her. "One thing has nothing to do with the other."

"Would you have gone if you weren't so upset about Shelley?"

"I did what Rennie told me to do."

"And what happened?"

"You know what happened."

"No, I mean afterward. What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" He gave a curt laugh. "I fell apart."

"You self-destructed. Don't you see? You couldn't get Reimie to do it, so you did it yourself. You destroyed the tool, Nick, so if nothing else, Rennie couldn't use it. Except that tool was you."

Nick didn't reply. Snapping up the rest of the clothes, he stalked into the cabin.

"Nick! Wait!" She'd skimmed too close, dug too deep. But how else to clean an infected wound?

Scrambling inside, she found him facing the closed door to Isaac's bedroom. "Nick-" Tentatively, she touched his back.

"I don't want you to have anything to do with that- that muck." His voice was low and fierce. "I want to keep you away from it, from Rennie, and Shelley, and-"

"And you?"

Slowly, he turned to face her. "Yeah, from me, too." He threw her a wan smile. "But I'm a selfish son of a bitch."

"No, you're not. There's goodness in you, Nick. I can see it, why can't you?"