Rush (17 page)

“I’m going.”

“Mi.
Querida
, please. You can’t go.”

“Davy was my friend.” She couldn’t stop the tears that flooded her eyes. Thirteen years was a long time to hold them in. She worried she wouldn’t ever be able to dam them up again. “I have to go.”

He stood and helped her lay back down. “Rest now,
querida
. You’re tired. We’ll talk more later.”

Settling under the covers, she capitulated only because she
was
tired. He flipped off the overhead light, kissed her lightly on the lips, then resettled into the chair. Sliding down, he piled his feet on the end of the bed. His head rested on the back of the chair. He regarded her with a closed expression as if he was trying to guard his thoughts from her. Whatever he was thinking, she had a feeling things were going to change. He’d made some kind of decision or come to a conclusion without consulting her. She wanted to ask him, maybe talk him out of it, because she was pretty sure it was going to piss her off.

*****

The following day, Mi was released from the hospital. If she thought she’d had it bad before, she knew different now. Things could always get worse. She’d been sent home in hospital scrubs because the paramedics had cut her clothes. Her purse with her wallet and cell phone hadn’t been recovered from the rubble yet. She had no job, no income, which hardly mattered when she had no ATM or credit cards. She couldn’t go home. Her family had no way to reach her, which worried her to the point of near panic.

But for all of that she was thankful. She’d suffer all of those things and more to have Davy back.

Lucas drove like a man with a mission. He’d been circumspect at best, an impenetrable fortress at worst. Whatever he was plotting made him ornerier than a bee-stung bear. Or it could have been spending the night slouched in a chair that was two sizes too small. Mi would’ve bet on both.

“Did you get a hold of Cal?” she asked for the fifth time, expecting the same answer she’d gotten the other four times. She really needed to talk to Cal.

“He’s meeting us at our apartment.”

“
Our
apartment?”

“What else would you call it?”

“What it is.
Your
apartment.”

He didn’t answer for a while, glaring out at the road in front of them. “I had some of your things brought over from your house. Clothes… and stuff.”

She sat for a moment and just stared at him. So this was what had been rolling around in that hard head of his. “What stuff?”

“Some of your things. To make you feel more comfortable.”

“Who brought them over?”

“I had Malcolm take care of it,” he said.

“I wish I’d known. I would have asked him to bring my robe and slippers.”

“Are you ever going to tell me why you need to talk to Cal so badly?”

“He’s my boss. I need to know if I still have a job. If we all still have jobs. And maybe he’d know about Tracey. I’m worried about her.”

His brows dipped toward each other. “I’m sure Tracey’s home and fine. Cal will bring the show back when the studio’s rebuilt. It makes too much money not to.”

“What are we all supposed to do for income until then?”

He gave her a quick glance, then turned back to the road.

“I just need to know if I have to apply for unemployment or get a new job,” she explained.

“Why not take the time off?”

“And eat what?”

“How will you explain me to your new employer?”

He was right, darn him. Who would hire a woman who had a bodyguard because she was being stalked? Not that she had any useful skills. She’d been darn lucky to get the job at
Pleasure at Home
. There was no way she could get another job with the same pay. How was she going to make her house payment? Pay her mother’s expenses? She had no savings, no fall-back option.

“Stop answering my questions with questions,” she muttered.

She hunched over in her seat and pushed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She was so screwed. What was she going to do? Maybe Cal could give her a loan until the studio was rebuilt. She’d have to get a second job to pay him back. Or maybe she could do something at his office or at one of his other companies. God. What was she going to do?

“I don’t mind feeding you.”

She rolled her head his direction. “What?”

“You asked me what you were going to eat. You don’t eat much. I’ll feed you.”

“That’s the least of my worries. How am I going to pay my mortgage and… other expenses? I have to get all new credit cards, an ATM card, driver’s license, a cell phone. I need money and the ability to access it.”

“You don’t need money.”

“Now that’s just a ridiculous statement,” she said. “Everybody needs money.”

“You can use my cell phone.” He pulled his phone out and handed it to her. “Here.”

“How’s my family going to reach me? How am I going to reach them without access to my contact list in my phone.” She leaned back in her seat and looked out the window. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, the tension so tight you could bounce a quarter off it. Mi couldn’t wait to talk to Cal. She needed to know where she stood so she could plan. She needed to check in with her mother and Jason. She should call Lucy, she would’ve heard about the explosion and was probably frantic with worry. Mi wondered if Lucy knew about Davy.

They rode the elevator up to Lucas’s apartment as though they were strangers, not touching or talking. The doors opened and Mi took a step back, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her gaze shot to Lucas. He watched her closely—looking for what—gratitude, excitement, approval?

She stepped lightly into the foyer, looked around. “Wha…? Why did you do this?”

She walked over to the second-hand couch that was supposed to be sitting in her living room and fingered the quilt draped over it that she’d gotten at a garage sale. She put a hand to her forehead and swept her gaze over nearly every stick of furniture she owned. In Lucas’s living room. If she hadn’t noticed the differences in their lives before, they were smacking her upside the head now. He’d actually had the couch positioned perfectly to take in the multi-million dollar view of Dallas. It was wrong, all wrong.

She turned to him. “Why?”

He hitched a shoulder, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I hated that other furniture.”

“Where did it go?” She had an image of his expensive, modern furniture in her cracker box tract home and laughed out loud. Then she spotted the grouping of photos on the built-in bookcase and bent over at the waist, gripping her knees. He’d brought them here.
Oh, my God.
How was she going to explain them?

“Your furniture is more comfortable. I wanted you to be comfortable.”

Her two worlds were crashing together and there wasn’t anything she could do to slow it or stop it. Tiny dots filled her vision and a sick feeling sat heavily in her stomach. She staggered, putting a hand out, and came up against the back of the couch.

He rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

“No. It’s too much. You did too much. I can’t… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did. Come and lay down.” He helped her to the sofa.

“You said
some things
. As far as I can tell this is everything.” She tried not to bring his attention to the photos by looking at them. Instead she focused on the other issue. Was this his way of asking her to move in with him? They hadn’t discussed a future or anything beyond now. “How am I supposed to take this? What does this mean?” She held her breath, hoping and at the same time terrified. She wanted this. She wanted him. As keen as the wanting was, the secret that she kept from him, from everyone, knocked him out of her reach.

“You can’t stay in your home, but at least you can have your things from there here. So much has been taken from you,
Querida
. I thought maybe having your stuff around might help. Especially after yesterday.” Although now in the face of her displeasure, Lucas doubted the wisdom of his actions.

“Doyle Gann could be captured tomorrow and then what?”

“You want it to go back, it goes back. Today, tomorrow, whenever.” Not that he wanted it to. For the first time there was furniture in the apartment that he could take a nap on without worrying about bodily harm.

“Seems like a lot of trouble,” she grumbled, settling into a corner of the couch. And right there—the look on her face, the way she relaxed, tucking her feet under her, laying her head on the pillow—that’s why he’d done it.

He pulled the blanket off the couch and laid it over her, then sat on the edge and looked down at her. She was so pretty, so delicate even with her face dotted with scratches and the nasty bruise on her cheek. He smoothed the hair back from her face. Her amazing whiskey colored eyes fluttered open, zeroed in on his, and he felt her as though she were inside him, a part of him. When she looked at him like that he felt powerful and weak, afraid and fearless.

He wanted her so bad, in every way. Couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone or anything this much. Imagining she might want him, he got a little light headed. Having her here, her things mixed with his, felt right. He wasn’t going to look too hard at what he got out of bringing her things here. If he did, he just might have to admit he didn’t ever want her to leave or that he had something with Mi that he’d never had with Vanessa.

He was so fucked.

“I’ll wake you when Cal gets here.” He leaned down and kissed her, resisting the urge to lie down beside her. He wasn’t sure he could keep his hands to himself and the last thing she needed was him trying to cop a feel.

She sighed and sank deeper into the cushions, closing her eyes. He sat with her a moment, finding it difficult to leave her. He hadn’t felt that with Vanessa or anyone else for that matter. When her breathing lengthened and evened, he forced himself to rise, giving her one last look before heading into his office to make a few phone calls.

Yup. He was well and truly fucked.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mi woke to the rumble of male voices and the ringing of her cell phone. Her cell phone? There it was, unharmed on the coffee table that had been in her house only yesterday. Sitting, she picked it up. Her phone, but not her phone. A new one. The number on the screen was Jason’s. She flipped it open, dread dropping like a rock into her stomach.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck, Mi? Where are you? Are you all right?”

She pounded her knee with her fist. Damn! She should have tried somehow to call Jason after the explosion. “I’m okay. I wasn’t hurt.”

“The hospital called me. I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“My cell was in my purse at the studio. I had to get a new one.” Or rather Lucas had gotten it for her. One more way he’d taken care of her.

“They wouldn’t give me any information over the phone. So I turned on the TV and saw… fuck
me
.” She could hear the fear and worry in his voice.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called you. How’s mom?” She suddenly noticed the voices she’d heard when she first woke up had quieted. Turning, she looked over the back of the couch to find Lucas and Cal watching her.

“She’s giving
Ethan
a bath.”

She got up and went to the window, putting her back to Cal and Lucas. “You’re there with her?”

“Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t go down to the hospital. One of her neighbors called me yesterday. She was doing it again.”

“How bad?”

“She needs help, Mi.”

“She’ll get better. She always does.”

“How?” He didn’t hold back his exasperation and frustration. He never did. “Face it. She’s not getting better. She never does. Not for long anyway.”

She rested her forehead on the cool glass. The reflection off a nearby building made her close her eyes. “She will. I’ll come as soon as I can. Please just stay with her until I can get there.”

“I’ll spend the night, but I have to go to work tomorrow. She’ll be alone after that. I can’t leave work to come here every day.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“And Jason, thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, all right. I’m still going to kick your ass for not calling me.”

She laughed, feeling better. “Like you could. Bye. And thanks again.”

“Sure.” He disconnected.

She flipped the phone closed. Jason was right. Their mother wasn’t going to get better. She’d be all right for a while and then slip back into the madness. It wasn’t her fault—Mi knew—but that didn’t keep the resentment and anger away. They were as much a part of their relationship as love and acceptance, most days more. Her mother had never been much, but she was all Mi and Jason had.

She turned from the window. Lucas and Cal had gone into the kitchen. She could hear their voices. She slipped the phone in her pocket and followed them.

Lucas leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Cal had hitched himself up onto a bar stool, sipping a soda straight from the can. His Stetson sat on the counter at his elbow.

Mi slid onto the stool next to Cal. She motioned to Cal’s soda. “Can I have one of those, too, please?”

Lucas reached into the refrigerator, pulled a can out, and popped the top. He sat it in front of her. “How’s your mom feeling?”

She worked to keep the surprise from her face. “She’s okay.” She sipped the soda, the bubbles bursting on her tongue. “I guess the phone fairy came while I was sleeping.”

“Is it all right? I got you the same one you had.”

“Yes. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know.” He eased away from the counter. “I’ll let the two of you talk.”

Cal watched Lucas go, then turned to her. “Do you know why I asked him to be your body guard?” He watched her with cool blue eyes that missed nothing. For all his good ol’ boy charm, Cal was as shrewd as they came.

“I heard he owed you a favor.”

He bobbed his head companionably. “He thought so, but no.”

He drank his soda. Mi did the same, waiting him out. With Cal you only got what he felt like giving, when he felt like giving it. She could tell he was working up to something. You didn’t rush Cal anymore than you rushed a stubborn bull or sunrise. What he did, he did with deliberation and purpose. He hadn’t built his empire from nothing by hurrying about chasing ideas or picking up after others, but with calculated intent delivered with the precision of a gem cutter.

“What do you think of what he’s done, moving your furniture here?” he asked.

She traced a finger over the chipped paint of her Porky the Pig cookie jar on the counter next to her, a smile tugging one corner of her lips. “It’s strange and over the top, but totally Lucas.”

He nodded in agreement, eyeing the cookie jar with some amusement. “It is.”

“He does things like that and I think I should be mad. But I’m not. I’m too glad about it to be mad. It’s sweet. He’s sweet.”

“He inherited a lot of money some years back.”

Ah, now they were getting around to it. She made a show of looking about as though she were taking a mental inventory, calculating Lucas’s worth. “Apparently so.”

“Money affects everyone differently.”

“‘Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing’.” She quoted Oscar Wilde.

“I see appreciation isn’t lost on you.”

“Appreciation is the only thing I have to give him.”

He examined her as though she was up for auction and he was deciding his maximum bid. “Not the only thing.” He tipped his soda to his lips and finished it down. “Loyalty is underrated.”

“Sad, but true.”

“To answer my earlier question: I knew he’d guard you like his own maiden aunt. And not just because I asked him to. I knew he’d take one look at you and not be able to help himself. I’m wondering if that was a mistake on my part.”

She matched his shrewd look and demeanor as best she could. “Seems like I’m not the only one who needs protecting.”

“What did you want to talk with me about?”

And that subject was now closed. “I was wondering what your plans are for the show.”

“We’ll run old shows, maybe cut and paste some. I’m already looking for a new space, but that will take some time to get up and running.”

“What will we do until then?” she asked. “I’m sure I’m not the only one on the staff who has a mortgage to pay.”

“My company has insurance for something like this. I’ve already contacted my carrier. Workman’s comp will take care of the medical expenses.”

“Okay.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

He slid off the stool and picked up his hat, taking her measure with a slow head to toe scan. “A loan wouldn’t be out of the question under the circumstances.”

“Unfortunately, I might have to take you up on that.”

“Just let me know.” He turned to go, then angled back around, fixing her with a beady stare. “I’m hardly ever wrong. Don’t make this one of those times.”

She lifted her chin, meeting his challenge. “Your record will stand.”

He gave a curt nod and donned his hat with a slow practiced motion. She watched him go with new respect. He might have a reputation as a hardnosed businessman, but underneath he was the kind of friend everyone should have.

Sensing she should hang back until Cal left, she remained at the counter, finishing her soda. She pulled the new cell phone from her pocket and clicked ‘Contacts’. They were all there. She let out a relieved breath and called Tracey. Her phone went straight through to voice mail.

“Tracey, it’s Mi. Are you okay? Please call me. I’m worried about you.” She hit ‘End’ more worried than ever. Next she called Lucy.

Lucy answered after the first ring. “Mi! There you are. I’ve been worried sick. I couldn’t get a hold of
anybody
. What happened? They said there was one casualty. How are you? Are you hurt?
What happened
?”

“I’m fine, really. Oh, Lucy. It was Davy—”

“Noooo.”

“He was right near the bomb.” Mi’s voice broke. She took a deep breath, trying to be strong for her friend. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Who would do something like this? Who has that much hate in them?”

“I wish I knew. The police think someone at the studio has been sabotaging the show and that same person set the bomb. Someone we know and see every day. I just can’t think who would do that.”

“Davy… who would want to hurt him?”

Lucy was going through the same thing Mi had, turning it around, trying to make sense out of something so senseless. There were no answers, only more questions.

Mi talked to her friend for a few more minutes, trying to calm her down. They disconnected with promises to get together soon. Mi clicked the phone closed and swiped at her tears before they could fall.

“Everything all right?” Lucas asked.

“Yes. No. It’s just so awful.” She indicated her phone. “That was Lucy. I told her about Davy.”

He came to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

She melted into his warmth, his comfort. How had she come to depend on him so quickly when she’d gone so long with no one to rely on? And what was she going to do when the day came when she’d have to do without him?

He smoothed a hand over her hair and she pulled back a little to look up at him. Yes, indeed, what would she do if he never looked at her like that again? If she couldn’t feel his arms around her, his heart beat against hers, his breath over her skin?

She took his hand, kissed the inside of his wrist, then the palm. Such big gentle hands could bring comfort and pleasure. He watched her, his dark eyes heating, shining with the same desire that flared within her. She flicked her tongue out, tracing a circle over his palm. He moved closer and she widened her legs, inviting him in.

Their lips met in the briefest of kisses, then again before they settled into each other, tongues mating. She reached for him, bringing him closer still, and slid her hands into his hair. God, she loved the feel of his hair and the way his body fit against hers. The feel of his hand on her bare midriff added fuel to the fire. She wanted his hands on her, everywhere. Pulling at his shirt, she broke the kiss to trail her mouth down his neck.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

“I need this,” she whispered in his ear. “I need you.”

He shivered, a rippling of muscle. “You got me.”

He scooped her up in one motion, carried her back through the living room, and down the hall to the bedroom. He laid her down and went into the arms she stretched out to him. She wanted his weight on her, holding her down so she wouldn’t fly apart. Needing the feel of skin on skin, she yanked at her clothing, then his. In seconds she got what she wanted, and that first moment when their flesh met settled something inside her, at the same time releasing a current of longing that sent her straight to him.

No one was like him. His hands, his mouth, his body did things for her that no one had ever done, would ever do. After the first flurry of movement to get naked, they slowed things down. His fingertips feathered over her skin, setting small fires in their wake. He savored her, she felt it in the way he looked at her and touched her. This would be no frenzied coupling. It would be slow and deliberate and before they were through they’d each have taken more and given more than they should have. She knew this and yet couldn’t stop it, couldn’t keep herself apart from him anymore.

She melted into the sensations, gave over to the sweet ride, and in return elicited long drawn out sighs and sharp intakes of breath from him that only encouraged more. She pleasured him with her mouth and her hands, telling him with her body what words could never express. Holding nothing back, they gave until they shook with a need that might never be quenched.

And the moment he entered her she knew they’d crossed a threshold, could see it reflected back at her. He whispered words of endearment as he rocked into her, keeping pace with the hammering of her heart. Limbs entwined, bodies slick with sweat, hearts beating out a pounding rhythm they found their release, a shattering climax that brought tears to her eyes. He shook with the after effects and she wrapped her limbs around him, anchoring him to her.

Their breathing slowed, but their hands kept moving, caressing, soothing. They’d been through a war, a rebirth. What they’d be on the other side, she didn’t know. She should be scared, but all she could do was accept.

He tucked her tight against him as they drifted toward slumber. “
Mi amor
,” he murmured in a voice almost too quiet to be heard. But she’d heard and understood.
My love
.

*****

Mi woke first, having slept earlier. She shifted in Lucas’s arms, wanting to watch him unguarded, still sleeping. The fine lines around his eyes smoothed in relaxation his lips seemed fuller almost pouty. She resisted the urge to touch them, knowing they were softer than they looked. This was the first time she’d really studied him without him knowing. Her gaze traced every contour, every sharp angle. She supposed he wasn’t classically handsome, but there was something about him, something basic and masculine that called to everything that was feminine within her.