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Authors: Debra Anastasia

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BOOK: Return to Poughkeepsie
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He sat at his desk and tried to make himself useful, reviewing case files and looking again at the video on his phone. He made notes about everything he’d seen that might possibly be helpful. The hours ticked by until mid-afternoon, when a woman’s shriek and a loud thump sent Ryan running into his bedroom.

Trish—dressed in a teddy and an open trench coat—was on the floor with her eyes bugging out and her lips turning blue. Naked Eve had her pinned to the floor. His perma-boner took off like a rocket. Again.

“Trish! What the hell are you doing here?” He grabbed the discarded robe and pulled gently on Eve’s shoulder until she released her grip on Trish’s neck.

Eve staggered a bit, eyes hazy. Ryan slipped the robe over her shoulders. She put it on.

“She’s wearing your mother’s dookie-colored robe?” Trish scrambled to her feet, gasping. “You hate that thing!”

“How did you get in here?” Ryan looked at the open window. “Did you climb up the escape? You are an insane person.”

“You’re sleeping with slutty whores? I’m here to get my stuff.” Trish stomped into the living room as Eve leaned against his bedroom wall. “I heard all over town you’ve been running around with a tramp.”

She came back into the bedroom. “After I leave, Ryan, you’ll never have another woman like me.”

Eve’s hand was so quick around Trish’s neck she was like a rattlesnake. “Drop it.” Trish hesitated, and Ryan watched as Eve tightened her hold, inching her thumb closer to Trish’s ear. “Take off the trench coat too.”

Trish opened her mouth with indignation before dropping the bedding he’d just bought. When she made no move with the coat, Eve pulled her into a restraint that was much more complicated than she made it look. “Take off your trench coat.”

It wasn’t what she said, it was the way she said it—steel in her voice. The energy coming off of her was so, so dangerous.

Even irrational Trish heard the warning in the words. She slipped off the coat.

“Now you’re going to leave the way you came.” Eve pushed Trish toward the window.

Trish gave Ryan a look. “This is your new girlfriend? She’s charming.”

Eve propped herself against the wall again and waited.

Ryan shrugged and pointed to the window.

“I can’t believe this. I’m suing.” Trish climbed back out the window, heels clicking against the metal while she proceeded to curse a blue streak.

Ryan smiled a little before retrieving the coat from the floor and tossing it out the window. “Leave my truck alone, Trish. Or I’ll sic my girlfriend on you.”

He turned as Eve slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “Had to give her the coat. She’s got a lot of walking to do.”

Eve closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You say that a lot lately.” Ryan grabbed the sheets and dragged them over the mattress. It looked like Eve was asleep. Her bandages were starting to bleed through again. He put the blankets on and added pillows before crouching down next to her. “You want to put clothes on? I got some stuff.”

“Please. That’d be great.” She opened one eye.

He set out pajamas and three packages of different underwear. “I could not figure out how the sizing works for these. Boy shorts, high cut, thong…”

“You did fine.” Eve pulled herself off the floor.

“Can you manage this?” Ryan half hoped she’d say no.

“As long as no more ex-girlfriend terrorists crawl through your window, it’ll be okay.” Eve began untying her robe.

Ryan left her and tried to imagine a meal. Breakfast seemed simplest, so he started pancakes and bacon.

Eve came into the living room and tucked herself on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. From a quick peek at her wrists, he could see she’d re-bandaged herself.

He plated food and cut the pancakes up for her, adding syrup. She took it without a word and plowed through. He made his own plate and sat in the recliner.

After they finished, Eve set her plate next to his on the living room table.

“I love somebody else.” She met his gaze, her eyes soft and much more focused now.

“He’s a lucky guy.” Ryan hoped his face didn’t show his disappointment. “That’s not why I made you pancakes.” He’d bought her pale pink pajamas. They were so soft in the store. He’d thought they would be comfortable and warm. But he hadn’t counted on her looking so vulnerable and huggable, the pink giving her face a little extra color.

“No, he’s not. Lucky would never describe his lot in life.” She sighed. He didn’t know what to say. “I think in a different world? I’d be all over you. You know that? Handsome, strong, funny, and smart. I bet you’ll make a great dad someday.” She closed her eyes.

He’d seen a similar look on the faces of retiring cops. They’d seen too much. They were left jaded and unimpressed with just how evil people could be. She was way too young for that look.

“If that’s the way he makes you feel? He’s not the guy for you.” Ryan gathered their plates and got her another pain pill.

“Really? With what I am?” She took the pill from his hand and swallowed it with orange juice.

“Actually, with
who
you are, I do feel that way.” He sat back down.

They were quiet for a while as the tension in Eve’s shoulders relaxed. Ryan guessed the pills were hitting the spot.

“Keep drinking.” He pointed at the glass she’d put down. “I think you lost some blood.”

“I’ve lost a lot more than blood.” She shook her head and picked up the glass.

“Why don’t you tell me? Consider me your fake boyfriend slash priest.” He put his feet up on the coffee table.

After a swallow she gave him a skeptical look. “Man, you’re on the wrong side of the law for confessions. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“You know, a million years ago two guys who were my only father figures were murdered. Ever since then, I’ve had this burning revenge thing going on. I feel like no one gets that. It’s why I fuck insane chicks like Trish. That’s so much easier than explaining that I have this…” He looked for the right word for a few breaths. “…mission. It’s been more important than anything else normal. But meeting you has put it on the back burner. I find myself thinking about you instead of plotting. It’s like a relief. And I know you’re not mine. And I know you’re fucking deadly. But I just want to, like, hug you.”

He stood and paced. “What I’m saying is, I have no pure intentions. Not as a cop. Not as a man. Not as a friend. I’ve got secrets of my own. So confess, baby. You’re safe with me.”

She sipped from the orange juice before regarding him with eyes hazy with drugs again. “Let’s speak hypothetically. How’s that?”

“Works.” Ryan sat next to her on the couch.

“I’ll tell you a story. You ready?” She nodded as he nodded.

Eve was bombed off her ass.

“There was a girl. She was raised by her father because her mother’s new marriage was much more exciting than her kid. This girl dreamed of becoming a mom. After she met the man of her dreams, she was pregnant.” Her words slurred into one another, and it took her longer and longer to recover from her blinks. “And then a murderer killed her love and her baby.” A tear slipped from the corner of one eye as she squeezed them shut.

“The noise that the car wreck made? It broke that girl. She died that day. And right then, she decided she’d never love again. All her pain was funneled into becoming a machine. Revenge was the only setting she had. And she became better at killing than the murderer.” She took the last sip of her juice.

He took the glass from her. She hugged her knees to her chest.

“But even though she could kill
anyone
, when she finally found him, she couldn’t kill him. Even if he deserved it.” She exhaled and looked at the floor.

“Who was it? Taylor?” Ryan’s rage was contained, but only because he’d had so much practice.

Eve shook her head, her hair falling around her shoulders. She looked him in the eye. “I killed Mary Ellen. I butchered my way through her house, murdered her guards, and slit her throat. I’m not girlfriend material, Ryan.”

He whistled. Getting through to the head honcho was ridiculous, action-movie-type stuff.

“And Taylor found me and volunteered his services to Rodolfo so I could be free.” She touched her forearm, a bruise there getting more and more colorful. “So here I am.”

“So you hate him and you love him.” Ryan cut right to the center of the story.

Eve had a sad smile. “And I’m just as bad, if not worse, than any criminal you’ve ever put behind bars. There’s no redeeming that—no matter how many lives I live.”

Ryan moved the hair away from Eve’s face, looking into her beautiful, sad eyes. “I want to save you.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, which sparkled in the light before she blinked them away. “I’d never let you. Way too dangerous.”

Ryan touched her cheek before sliding his hand to the nape of her neck. He leaned down and gave her the softest kiss—just tasting her before looking back at her mouth. “You underestimate me.”

35

Here

C
HERY
W
OKE
U
P
D
EAD
. Or at least that’s how she felt. Chaos was there, and he seemed relieved when her eyes opened.

“Vere?” she asked.

The small, dark man came to her side. “She’s at the day house. They’re going to keep her overnight.”

“Everything hurts.” Chery wanted to move, but pain stopped her. “Jared! Jared might try to get Vere to punish me!” Chery forced herself to sit up and look around. A hospital room. Her heart sank.

Chaos supported her back. “No. Not anymore.”

The finality in his voice soothed her, and she lay back.

“Your job is to heal. Want me to call a nurse?” Chaos sat in the chair close by.

“I can’t. She’ll want to question me. That’s what they do. I stopped coming to the hospital because of that.” Chery looked at her arms. They were covered in the scars of her battle. “I thought I was done. He finally tipped over the edge.”

“I’m sorry, señorita.” Chaos nodded at her like she was a princess stepping off a boat. “I’m glad you weren’t.”

“You know how they’re going to look at me? I’m here again. And I knew better. I knew better.” Chery found it hard to swallow. She vaguely remembered Jared choking her. And then being in the blanket…the banging of being sealed in.

“You are here. But that’s better than other places you could be. No one can judge you, except you. A person makes their destiny.” Chaos folded his arms across his chest.

“You wouldn’t understand. It makes no sense now.” Chery grabbed the flimsy hospital blanket and squeezed.

“I’ve been in prison for more days than I’ve been out of it. No worries, though, I’ve never touched a woman in anger in all my days,” he added quickly. “But you see, when I get out? I do things that could put me back in. It’s like I can’t live without the thrill of being caught. It’s hard…the pull. And then you’re so used to the doors being locked, when you’re finally allowed to walk through, you stumble.” Chaos shrugged. “Is it like that? For you, with him?”

Chery didn’t respond, but looked at the IV snaking fluids into her body. It
was
sort of like that: a jail term—one willingly and not so willingly sought.

A nurse walked in and seemed pleased to see Chery awake. She made chipper small talk while she checked Chery’s vitals. “How’s your pain from one to ten?”

Chery shrugged and the pain made her wince. “About a four.”

“Okay, I’ll have the doctor approve a painkiller that will be good for you and safe for the baby.” She smiled and nodded.

Chery looked at the nurse like she was insane. “You sure you have the right patient?”

“Yes, ma’am. Says right here the blood test for pregnancy was positive. I take it this is unexpected.” She patted Chery’s hand. “Make sure to discuss it with your doctor. There are options.”

After the nurse left, Chery looked past Chaos to the window. “Well, I guess there’s no getting over him now.”

BOOK: Return to Poughkeepsie
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