Rush (24 page)

If yesterday had taught her anything, it was that nothing stayed the same. Old aches could become new hurts, new hurts faded to aches. Joy could turn to sorrow, sorrow to joy. And that nothing was ever given that couldn’t be taken away.

She turned away from the window, feeling older than she should. The image of Lucy with her new daughter brought a smile to her face and just like that the world on her shoulders lifted a little.

*****

Lucas bagged up the square of paper and left a message for Rolls as he said he would. He jotted off a quick text to Cal to let him know that Lucy and the baby were okay. Cal hadn’t asked him to, but if it had been Mi he wouldn’t have slept until he knew all was well.

He lay down on the couch. He did his best thinking lying down. Now that he finally had a thinking couch, his thoughts dried up. Staring at the ceiling as the sun came up, he felt like a colossal failure. The bastard had gotten to Mi again. He was sure it was Gann. And with Lucas only feet away. Fuck. The look on Mi’s face as she opened her hand and showed him the paper.

Gooch jumped up on the couch and curled on top of his stomach. He didn’t have the energy to knock the cat off. Bits of thoughts sparked, but none took light. He couldn’t even chase one down to complete it. God, he was tired. He let his eyes drift closed, but sleep was a fickle bitch and didn’t see fit to visit him.

He wondered if Mi slept and if she did, did she dream? Did he make the cut? Did she ever imagine a future for them? Or did she keep him firmly in the here and now? He wondered why he tortured himself. What was it about that woman that turned him inside out and upside down until he wasn’t sure who or what he was to her? His gut churned, burning from the crappy hospital coffee the nurses had given him out of pity.

He tried to get a read Mi, but every time he thought he had her nailed, she pulled up his stakes and threw them in his face. God, he was a masochist. Or a fucking idiot. It was hard to tell which. And then he’d look into her amber eyes and his world would tilt, bringing his bubble back into plumb. Oh, she was the one for him all right. Now he just had to figure out a way to convince her of that.

The last thought he had before sleep finally came for him was of her, her belly rounded and full with his child.

Yup, he was a fucking idiot for sure.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mi woke up alone in the big bed. The light of mid-day beamed through the wall of screened windows onto the bed. The bottom of her stomach plummeted when she realized she’d slept the whole night alone. Scrambling out of bed, she tossed the covers aside and ran out into the living room. Empty. She looked in the kitchen. Also empty. The sick feeling in her stomach swelled until she had to put a hand out. She caught herself on the doorframe to the kitchen and tried to tamp down the rising panic.

And then she heard the soft buzz saw of his snore and sagged against the doorframe in relief. She found him lying on his back on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other hanging off the side of the couch nearly to the floor. He was still dressed in his clothes from the night before. The cat looked up at her from his place on Lucas’s stomach and meowed. She plucked Gooch up and cradled him under her chin. Why hadn’t Lucas come to bed?

He’d hardly touched her since pulling her mother off of her the day before. And now he’d slept on the couch instead of sharing the bed with her. She should be relieved he was pulling away from her. Their break would be so much easier if they both wanted it. And yet she couldn’t summon up any gladness. All that came was the pounding sadness that she would once again be alone. She could stand loneliness and had for too long, but now she’d have to endure it with the knowledge of what it was like to love and be loved by Lucas.

She reached out and fingered the lock of hair slanting across his forehead. He stirred and then his dark gaze fastened on hers, the intensity of his stare going through her like a bolt of lightening. Then his attention caught on the marks on her neck, a frown digging deep between his brows. Pulling her hand back, disappointment spread through her like a toothache. He didn’t see her the same anymore. The bruises her mother’s fingers had left behind were a brutal reminder of all the ways she had and would let him down.

His cell phone rang. So easily he turned away from her to answer it.

He dug it out of his pocket. “Hello? Yeah. Half an hour. See you then.” He hung up the phone and stood. “Rolls is on his way over.”

“I guess I’d better get dressed,” she replied.

*****

Rolls arrived with a ketchup stain on his tie and a cloud of sad resignation floating around him. He dropped into a recovered, over-stuffed chair Mi had picked up off the curb. “I’ve got some news,” he began. “We arrested your friend Tracey Casey for the studio bombin’ and murder of Davy Johnson. I’m sorry,” he added, with a nod for Mi.

“No. I don’t believe it,” Mi said.

Lucas reached over and grabbed Mi’s hand. “You have proof she did it?” he asked Rolls.

“Had enough to bring her in for questionin’. She’s confessed. Gave up everythin’ on that religious organization C.A.L.M. and their leader Cookie Dixon. I’m surprised ya’ll haven’t heard. Been all over the news. That senator and congresswoman who backed ‘em have been on every channel that would show their faces, tryin’ to talk their way out of it.”

“Confessed?” Mi leaned into Lucas’s shoulder, the heavy weight of disappointment and sorrow pressing down on her like a vice. She couldn’t believe it. Tracey had killed Davy. Had tried to kill
her
.

“Your friend Davy’s funeral’s tomorrow. One o’clock at the Pentecostal church on Bickers. You said you’d want to know,” Rolls said.

“Thank you,” Mi managed to whisper.

Rolls nodded in acceptance, his jowls collapsing like bellows. “Ya said you had somethin’ to show me?”

Lucas handed Rolls the plastic bag with the square of paper inside. “Mi was… given this at the hospital early this morning.”

Rolls examined the paper inside the bag, turning it back and forth in front of the window. “Can’t see nothin’.” Dropping his hand holding the bag between his legs, he looked at Mi. “Tell me what happened.”

Mi recited her story. She suddenly remembered something she’d left out before. “Peppermint. I remember getting a whiff of peppermint. Really strong.”

Rolls jotted that down in his notebook along with the other notes he’d made. “Anythin’ else?”

“No. That’s it. Sorry.”

“Do you want to know what the paper says?” Rolls asked.

Mi shook her head, then changed her mind. “Actually, yes. I would.”

Rolls pulled a pair of latex gloves from his suit pocket and drew the note out of the plastic bag. Lucas squeezed Mi’s hand as Rolls unfolded the small paper.

His brows wadded up over his nose. “I’m coming for you. Be ready,” he read.

“Jesus,” Lucas breathed.

Rolls put the note back in the bag. “Sorry.”

“Just please catch him so I can go back to my life, my home. I’m tired of being scared all the time.”

“I’m doing my best for you.” They rose as Rolls did and followed him to the elevator doors. He turned back. “I’m sorry ‘bout your friend. I’ll keep you updated as things go along. And if I hear anythin’ on Gann, I’ll letchya know.”

“Thank you, detective,” Lucas said, shaking his hand.

“Yes, thank you.” Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, Mi wrapped her arms around herself and headed down the hall to the bedroom. She leaned against the window. The city gleamed below, people going about their day as though nothing bad would ever happen to them. She’d been one of those people once.

How could she have been so
wrong
about Tracey? They’d worked so closely together, saw each other everyday. They went out for drinks, dinner, caught a movie now and then. How could Tracey have done this? Had she been planning this all along? Had Tracey faked their friendship to advance C.A.L.M.’s agenda? Had Tracey only been friendly just so she could get close enough to kill? God.

Gann was coming for her, expecting her to be ready for him. Why was he doing this? What had she done to attract his attention? The trembling started as a shiver. Before she knew it she was shaking hard enough to make her teeth clack together.

“
Querida
.” Lucas came from behind her and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into his warmth. “Ssh, I’m here.”

She didn’t want him to know how much Gann’s note shook her so she went for the second equally awful thing. “Tracey was my friend. How could I have been so wrong about her?”

“Come and sit down with me.” He brought her over to the couch at the foot of the bed. “I know it’s hard when someone you care about deceives you.”

Mi thought about his ex-fiancée and how Vanessa had deceived him in the worst way. “I guess you would know about that.”

He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.

“I lost two friends in that bombing,” she said, looking out at the Dallas skyline. “Davy and Tracey.” She wished she could cry, maybe that would release the aching knot that had a strangle-hold on her chest. “I don’t have very many friends.”

“You have me.”

“Do I?” She couldn’t keep the dull edge of doubt from turning her words hard.

“If you want me.”

She looked at him then, weighing his sincerity. What she saw tugged at the knot in her chest, loosening it a little. “Lucas, I…” What? What would she do? Promise him the forever she saw in his eyes, knowing she couldn’t follow through? No, she wouldn’t do that to him. “Why did you sleep on the couch last night?” The question slipped out without having formed into a thought first.

“I didn’t mean to, but that couch is really comfortable,” he said with a hint of nervous laughter. “I might just keep it.”

“We could work something out. Like a time share or something.”

“That wouldn’t work for me. I’m an all or nothing kind of guy.”

She couldn’t answer, the words crashing against the back of her throat like an eighteen-car pile up. They were right there fully formed yet immobile, all the things she wanted to say.

Disappointment flashed briefly across his face before he set her hand in her lap and stood up. “Are you hungry?” he asked lightly.

As if cued, her stomach rumbled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, one corner of his mouth kicking up. “Do you want to go out or stay in?”

“Stay in.”

They ordered some food and ate it in front of the TV, watching an action adventure movie Lucas chose. Mi picked up the remains of their dinner, purposely missing the bloody fight at the end of the movie. She took the opportunity to call Jason in the privacy of the kitchen.

“Hey, I was just calling to check in. How’s mom?”

“Hang on a sec.” She could hear the TV in the background and then quiet. “She’s okay,” he said after a few moments. “Hasn’t tried to choke me or anything so I guess that’s good.”

Mi ignored his dig. “But she seems calm?”

“Yeah, maybe even a little calmer than usual. How’s your throat?”

“It’s okay.” She fingered the scarf around her neck, not wanting to tell him about the scratches and bruises that had bloomed to a violent bluish purple.

“You know I only went along with what you wanted because of the studio bombing. But I’m telling you, Mi, this is it. She pulls one more crazy ass stunt and I’m turning her in. Whether you okay it or not.”

“Jason, no. Please promise me you won’t do that.”

“I’m not making that promise.”

“Please, Jas.”

“She tried to
kill
you.”

Mi could feel the panic swelling up in her chest. “Jason, if you do that I will take her and move and you will never see us again. I mean it.”

“Mi—”

“I mean it.”

“What the hell’s going on in here?” Lucas asked from the kitchen doorway.

“Damn it, Mi,” Jason growled.

“I gotta go. Don’t forget what I said.” Mi clicked the phone off before he could respond.

Lucas leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “I take it that was Jason.”

She didn’t respond, thinking about how she could go around him and avoid the coming conversation all together.

“You’d rather move, leave your brother, your job, your life than get your mother the help she needs?”

“This is none of your business.”

“None of my business. Haven’t we been over this?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” She made a move to go around him, but he blocked her, filling the doorway.

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” But she couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t give him the answers he wanted.

“Oh, you’re hiding something all right and I’m going to find out what it is. Either you can tell me yourself or Malcolm will find out what it is for me.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “You’re having me
investigated
?”

“What has you so scared you’re willing to throw away your life to protect it?”

“Leave it alone.” She shoved at him, her efforts as useless as if she pushed on a brick wall. “Let me go.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on. What affects you affects me.”

Her laugh sounded sharp and harsh, an echoing alarm that she was on the edge of control. “None of this affects you. Don’t you get it? We’re temporary. As soon as Doyle Gann is caught whatever this is between us is over.”

“Is that what you want?”

“That’s what is.” She made a back and forth motion between them. “This was never going to last. We let off some steam, that’s all. It was great. Really great. But it was just sex.” Her argument sounded hollow even to her ears.

He gave her a pitying look. “Just some really great sex. Sure.” He pivoted, giving her room to pass. “Good night. I hope you sleep well… fuck buddy,” he said just as she went by him.

She kept walking, the stabbing pain of his words making it difficult to breathe. She’d asked for it, provoked him, but that didn’t make it hurt less. Didn’t make what she was doing any easier. It was the right thing, making the break early. It would be better in the long run, she repeated to herself a dozen or more times as she lay alone in the big bed that night with Lucas back in the spare bedroom down the hall.

The scent of their nights together on the sheets brought images of their bodies twisted and twined. She hugged his pillow, the smell of him mocking her every time she inhaled. The cat leapt on the bed and curled into the small of her back. At least she wouldn’t be alone with her memories.

*****

Lucas awoke to darkness and silence. But something was off. He could feel it in the air. He listened hard, straining to separate out the normal household noises from what had woken him up. Nothing. The sense of wrongness came again this time stronger. Yeah, definitely off. He put his hand on his gun, lifting it from the nightstand without a sound. Using the skills he’d honed over the years, he climbed out of bed, controlling his movements and breathing.

He crept down the hall. His only thought was to get to Mi and make sure she was safe. Hugging the wall, gun in hand at his side, he moved closer to the master bedroom. A low murmur then a gasp from the bedroom brought his head up. Everything in him screamed for him to rush the room. His training kicked in, quickly tamping down that instinct. More deep whispers, then a squeak of protest suddenly cut off. He adjusted his grip on the gun as the outline of a man against the light of the windows came into view.