Nobody's Hero (43 page)

Wait.
Clearly, he was saying he didn’t
want her back at the club if he wanted her to pursue a music
recording career. Not that she would go back—not the way things
were—but some silly part of her had thought maybe, just maybe he’d
come to Chicago to win her back.

The backs of her eyes burned, and she fumbled
to retrieve her fork then stabbed at her plate, hoping to spear one
of the buttery shrimp, and wishing a bit that she was poking Adam
instead for driving her away.

“So, what do you think?”

She stuffed the shrimp into her mouth and
chewed slowly so she wouldn’t have to answer, not that she
had
to answer him anymore. He wasn’t her Sir anymore. He
could take his direct questions and shove them…

“Anyway, it seems there’s quite an industry
these days for indie performers. With all the iPhones and other
devices people carry all the time, they’re downloading music left
and right. They’re always looking for something new and…edgy, as
Damián would put it. You’d just need to find a good studio to
record in and I think I found one right in Denver.”

She glanced over at him and swallowed. “In
Denver?”

He looked over at her dad. “I’m sure there
are good ones in Chicago, too.”

Now, why was he retreating again after
getting her hopes up? Adam, you make me dizzy. Again, maybe it was
just the heights, but suddenly, her stomach churned. “Excuse me. I
need to use the restroom.”

Adam was up and pulling out her chair for her
in an instant and she ran to the back of the restaurant. Once
inside the stall, she just stood there, holding her stomach. The
nausea passed and she felt like a fool, but decided to stay here a
bit longer to make sure it wasn’t going to happen again.

So, what was Adam saying? Did he want her to
return to Denver and pursue a career from there? With him or
without him? Or did he want her to stay here in Chicago—definitely
without him?

And what did she want to do?

She had no fucking clue.

Watch your language.

Yes, Sir.

Oh, yes, she knew what she wanted. She just
didn’t know if she could put herself through that again with Adam
unless he was sure it was what
he
wanted. She needed to wait
and see. Steeling herself, she washed her hands and returned to the
table.

* * *

Lying in bed the next morning, Karla tried to
ignore the continued queasiness in her stomach as the smell of
roasting turkey and stuffing filled her room. That had always been
a comforting aroma, but now it just made her want to puke. Mind
over matter. She must have had bad shrimp last night. If she just
ignored it, the feeling would pass. Then she would…

Oh, God! No!

Karla tossed the blankets off and jumped up
from the bed, steadying herself on the bedpost before running for
the bathroom. Holding her hair behind her, she lifted the seat,
leaned over the toilet, and hurled the contents of her stomach. If
only it ended there, but next she was wracked with dry heaves.

“Karla, are you okay in there?”

Adam
. “Yes. Go aw…” She heaved again,
her sides aching as tears spilled down her cheeks.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist,
pulling her against him as he held her and grabbed her hair,
freeing her hand. Damn. She hadn’t locked the bathroom door to his
room.

“I’ve got you, kitten.”

Karla couldn’t stem the flow of more hot
tears pouring out or the gut-wrenching sob that tore from her at
having him holding her again, even in this grotesque circumstance.
So embarrassing. His body curved around hers. So comforting. His
arm tightened with each dry heave and he crooned in her ear.

So loving.

She felt cherished, which just made her want
to cry harder, because she knew it didn’t mean anything like that
to Adam.

“Shhh…It’s okay…I have you, baby.”

But he didn’t have her. He didn’t even want
her. She sobbed even harder. Needing to get rid of Adam ASAP, she
took his middle finger and pulled back until he released his hold,
just the way they’d taught her in self-defense, then stood up. Too
bad they didn’t teach her how to defend her heart against
attack.

Before she could go to the sink and get a
washcloth, he did just that. “Look at me.”

Karla was staring up at him before she even
realized he’d taken control of her. Again. He wiped the tears from
her eyes, then wiped her mouth and chin. Exhausted, Karla let him
minister to her needs like a rag doll. How was she going to face
all that food downstairs with such a sour stomach?

“Brush your teeth.”

He nudged her toward the sink and she
complied. It helped not having to think about what she needed to
do. Her mind was mush, both from the vomiting and the nearness of
Adam. His hand made gentle, sweeping motions up and down her back
as she brushed. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in his lap,
but knew that wasn’t going to happen. Never again. More hot tears.
She blinked them away.

After she’d rinsed, she stood up straighter
and met Adam’s gaze in the mirror. “Thanks. I guess I got some bad
shrimp last night.”

“I had the shrimp and haven’t had a
reaction.”

“Maybe my body reacts faster.” The thought of
his being sick made her look up at him to assess his condition.
“God, I hope you don’t get it.” She never wanted to see Adam sick
or wounded ever again. “Do you want to shower first or me?”

“Why don’t you? The warm water might make you
feel better. Besides, Jenny probably needs you downstairs, if
you’re feeling up to it. I’ll just be a fifth wheel today.”

She smiled at him, remembering how he’d run
away from the house that first Thanksgiving they’d shared, then
blushed to remember how she’d embarrassed herself on the front
porch declaring her undying love.

Well, at least Karla wouldn’t make that
embarrassing mistake again today.

* * *

Adam sat next to Karla at the Thanksgiving
table, instead of across from her, as they’d been the last time.
He’d have preferred not to have her so close. Holding her this
morning, even under the circumstances, had made him want to hold
her again—in bed. Jesus, when would he get a chance to talk with
her?

“Adam, Karla made the ham especially for you.
Said it was your favorite for Thanksgiving. Good thing not everyone
agrees, so there were plenty available when she went back to the
store yesterday.”

Adam looked at Karla and quirked an eyebrow.
How could she have known that? She smiled, then leaned over and
whispered, “You told me in the cab.”

When? The last time they’d been together in a
taxi-cab was…
nine years ago.

Fuck
. He’d known Karla was infatuated
with him back then, but that she’d remember such a small detail all
these years surprised—and pleased—the hell out of him. “Thanks,
Karla. That was awfully sweet of you to remember.”

The look she just gave him before she visibly
caught herself was anything but sweet. More like smoldering.
Damn
. Getting through this meal without groping her under
the table was going to take all the willpower he had. He smiled.
Maybe there was hope for them yet. Still, he was haunted by her
deep blue eyes and dark lashes, which marked a sharp contrast
against her too-pale skin. Karla still didn’t look as though she’d
recovered from this morning’s bout of nausea.

Several conversations bombarded him at once,
from various people at the table. None seemed directed at him and
he tried to tune them out, then a flash to an earlier Thanksgiving
scene flitted across his brain. It was gone in an instant, but left
an indelible impression. His father was drunk. His mother, near
tears as she tried to keep up a good front for her family, who had
been invited to the annual celebration, was on the receiving end of
his brutal tirade.

Adam must have been about fifteen or sixteen.
Defending his mother, he’d mouthed off to his father and was
back-handed so hard his chair had tumbled backward with him in it.
Next thing he knew, his dad was sitting on his chest, pounding the
shit out of his face until Adam shouted, “Get the fuck off me, you
son of a bitch.”

With that, Adam finally managed to turn his
body hard enough to send his father sprawling onto the floor.
Lifting weights at school must have been good for something besides
building chest muscles.

Adam had stood, nursing his wounds, then the
expressions of horror on his family’s faces registered, causing him
extreme embarrassment. His mother had tears pouring down her face.
He’d embarrassed her, too. All he could do was run from the house
before he did something else he’d regret later—like kill his
father.

Good God, was that what happened? Had he come
back later with a baseball bat and taken out his anger and
revenge?

His breathing grew labored and he felt
Karla’s hand on his knee, comforting him. She leaned over and
whispered, “Are you okay, Adam? You aren’t feeling sick to your
stomach, too, are you?”

Yeah, but not because of last night’s
shrimp.

“No. I’m fine.” He took her hand, squeezed
it, then removed it from his knee before he embarrassed himself at
her family’s table in another way. “Thanks.” Knowing she cared
meant a lot to him, but now he had to wonder what kind of man he
was if there was even a remote chance he could have killed his
father. There was no statute of limitations for murder. What if he
was found out? Hell, after thirty-four years, the case was like ice
now, but he read in the paper about cold cases being solved all the
time. Where would Karla be if he got hauled off to prison? Karla
deserved better than that.

But he couldn’t even think about starting a
life with her until he manned up, stopped running, and went back to
Minnesota to face the music.

Feeling someone’s gaze on him, he looked up
to find Jenny staring at him, then at Karla.
Shit
. He hoped
she didn’t suspect anything. Of course, Karla and her mother were
close, so she might have told her mother about their botched
relationship already. The last thing he wanted was for her parents
to find out he and Karla had been intimate, especially now when
he’d suddenly, horribly realized that he had unfinished business
and he couldn’t really do anything to make it a permanent
relationship yet. But if Jenny would have known about them already,
she wouldn’t have greeted him the way she did last night, would
she?

He’d come to Chicago hoping for a chance to
assure her parents he could provide for their daughter and would
love her in his way until his final breath. But if he really was
going to go to Minnesota and come clean, he couldn’t make them that
kind of promise anymore. Not until he could come to her with a
clean conscious and no felony convictions.

He laid down his fork. Damn, he should have
accepted Damián’s invitation to join his family in California this
year. Which reminded him—he needed to check in with his son later
tonight. They were a couple hours behind him, so they may not have
started their celebration yet. Last time he’d checked in on them,
before he’d left for Chicago, Damián said his niece was coping
better than he’d expected, but his sister wasn’t dealing with
reality very well and that he’d have to stay on.

Adam understood what she was going through.
His own mother had often apologized to him as a kid for marrying a
similar dickwad—his father.

“So, tell me, Adam,” Carl began, “how is
retirement treating you? Did you pick up golf or any other
vices?”

Adam grinned over at Carl, then his gaze went
back to Jenny, who didn’t quite smile back. The two of them looked
like they’ve been through hell, grief having ravaged their
once-young faces. But it looked as though their marriage was solid.
Having each other to weather the storm would make all the
difference.

“No, sir. I haven’t gone the golfing,
fishing, or hunting route.” He wasn’t sure why he’d avoided fishing
and hunting. Some of the only pleasant memories he had of his
childhood had been engaging in those activities, with his dad, no
less.

“Karla says you run a nightclub now.”

He glanced over at Karla who looked as if she
was biting the inside of her trembling lip to keep herself from
smiling. Little minx. Now, how was he supposed to navigate these
waters?

“Something like that, sir. A couple buddies
and I who served together in Iraq started a private club a few
years ago. Keeps me busy and out of trouble.”
More or
less
.

Karla’s grandmother, sitting on his left,
reached out to touch his hand. “I was in Aspen last winter and hope
to get back there again. Do you ever get up that way, Adam?”
Thank God for Grandma and her many travels.

“No, ma’am. I pretty much stick to Denver and
environs.”

“I stayed at a wonderful resort there,
modeled after a chalet in the Italian Alps. I met a wonderful
former Marine there.”

“Just a Marine, ma’am. Once a Marine, always
a Marine.” He hoped the rote correction didn’t sound disrespectful.
He grinned.

“You know, he said the same thing.” She
giggled. Hearing a seventy-something woman giggling sure sounded
odd. Didn’t have the effect her granddaughter’s giggle had on
him—thank God. “His daughter and her family run the place.
Top-notch accommodations.”

Crap
. What were the chances she’d
stayed at Marc’s family resort and was talking about his Gramps?
This was hitting just a little too close to home.

“He served in World War II. I was just a
schoolgirl then, but I still remember all the sacrifices we made. A
feast like this would have been hard to come by. So much was
rationed.”

“Yes, ma’am. Those were tough times.” He
admired the generation that had gone through that era in American
history. Adam wasn’t quite sure what else to say, so he turned his
attention to the mountain of food on the plate in front of him,
then noticed Karla had hardly touched her turkey dinner. At the
moment, her fork was pulverizing the broccoli casserole that he was
pretty sure she’d made. If he didn’t know it would attract unwanted
attention, he’d have picked up her fork and fed her himself. She
was too fucking thin. Besides, she’d lost last night’s dinner when
she’d been sick this morning.