Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) (12 page)

He wasn't tall, maybe only an inch or two taller than she was, and his clothes still hung on his lean frame. Too loose, too worn and baggy. The stained jeans fell below his hips, the frayed waistband low enough that she could see the worn elastic waistband of his washed-out boxers. The sleeves of his dark blue t-shirt were rolled up, exposing the blurred lines of a cheap tattoo that ran across the pale skin of his upper arm. That same tattoo continued up the side of his neck, disappearing into the shaggy length of blonde hair that fell around his face. The shirt was ripped near the hem, like it had been caught in something, and a yellowish stain smeared the front of the shirt, just in the middle of his chest.

If she was seeing him now for the first time, her instincts would warn her to move away from him, to hurry her steps and not look at him, not call attention to herself. But she did know him, knew what lurked behind those dark eyes, and her instincts were screaming even louder for her to move away.

She tightened her hand around the strap once more and glanced to the right. The bus stop was just up the street, less than fifty feet away. But there was no sign of the bus. Not yet. Nicole clenched her jaw and turned back to Donnie.

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you."

"There's nothing to say, you know that."

"No, Nikki, I don't." He took a step closer and reached out with his hand. Nicole stepped back, so quickly she nearly twisted her ankle in the heeled sandals. Donnie dropped his hand and shoved it into his front pocket, but not before she saw it curl into a fist.

"I changed my mind. I don't want the divorce."

No!
Her mind screamed the denial as an icy cold blast of fear and anxiety shot through her, paralyzing her lungs. No, he couldn't be saying that. Why? Why would he say that?

Agonizing seconds dragged by as she tried to remember to breathe. She sucked in a deep breath, a hissing sound that echoed in her ears. Another second, then another, as the world righted and reality finally sunk in.

It didn't matter what he wanted. It was too late. It had been too late months ago.

"It doesn't matter, Donnie. You signed the papers. The divorce was finalized two months ago."

"I don't care. I changed my mind." He moved again, one foot slightly raised like he was going to step closer. Nicole stiffened but didn't step back. Not now, not anymore. She lifted her chin higher and shook her head.

"No, Donnie. It's over. Leave me alone." She turned, wanting nothing more than to leave, to never see him again. Seeing him last week, seeing him just now, was more than she wanted—more than she had expected. It was over. It had been over before it even started.

The rumble of a diesel engine echoed behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the bus, thankful that it was actually on time today. Movement caught her eye just as Donnie's hand wrapped around her left arm. His grip was tight, biting into the soft flesh of her upper arm, squeezing. She gasped and tried to step away but he pulled her closer, causing her to stumble. Anger colored his face a blotchy red and his mouth curled in a snarl.

"Don't walk away from me, bitch."

"Let me go!" And God, how she hated her voice, hated the quivering pleading, the weak demand that caused him to laugh. His fingers tightened even more when she tried to pull her arm from his grasp and she winced.

"It's not over, Nikki. It'll never be over. You're mine. You hear me?"

"No, Donnie. I'm not." She gritted her teeth against the pain, tasted iron as she bit her tongue when he shook her. No, not again. This couldn't be happening again. He didn't have power over her, didn't control her anymore. She'd earned her freedom, thought she'd never have to go through this again.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

The shout was too far away but still enough of a distraction. Donnie's painful grip loosened and Nicole ripped her arm from his hand. Her flesh burned, a new pain different from the bruising grip but she didn't care. Too late, she brought her knee up and jammed it into his groin. The breath left him in a pained groan and he doubled over but Nicole didn't trust him to stay that way for long. She ran toward the bus, her steps unsteady in the heeled sandals.

An older man, his dark weathered face creased with concern, stood next to the bus, his hand outstretched. Nicole grabbed it and stepped past him, her gaze focused only on the steps in front of her as she climbed onto the bus.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She released his hand then looked behind her, expecting to see Donnie chasing after her. But there was only the old man, his dark rheumy eyes full of concern as he watched her.

"I'm fine," she repeated. She took a deep breath and tried to smile, tried to act like she wasn't shaking, like she wasn't terrified. "Thank you."

The man muttered something, his voice lost in the rumbling of the engine. He looked toward the back of the bus once more and said something else, then shook his head and climbed onto the bus. Nicole turned away, her eyes lowered, and found a seat away from the handful of other people onboard. She dropped into it then leaned her head against the window, heedless of the smeared fingerprints and grime that coated the glass.

Deep breaths. Over and over. Again. But oh God, they weren't working. She was still shaking, adrenaline and fear whirling together in her stomach until she thought she might be sick. But she couldn't be sick. Not here, not now.

A few more deep breaths. In and out. Slow, steady.

Oh God, why was Donnie suddenly back? It didn't make sense. She hadn't seen him in over a year, why now? Money. He must need money. That had to be it. Had to be why he'd shown up at her mother's place with his story and lying charm. Why else would he suddenly track her down?

Nicole opened her eyes and stared out the window without seeing anything. She was still shaking, even with her hands clasped tightly together. The sudden urge to laugh seized her, an insane urge she had to fight off. It wasn't a laugh of amusement but one of desperation. And recrimination.

She was a hypocrite. She didn't need a man? Yeah. She could tell herself that all she wanted, but it was nothing but a lie.

Because when Donnie had grabbed her, when his fingers were digging into her flesh and the man called out, she had thought, hoped—for one fleeting second—that it had been Mat. That Mat had shown up again, that Mat would save her, just like he had the other day without knowing it.

The realization scared her, almost as much as the encounter with Donnie. If she was so convinced she didn't need a man to take care of her, why had she been hoping it had been Mat who was there, offering to help her?

And why was she suddenly afraid that made her more like her mom than she wanted to admit?

Mat led the way through the growing crowd, his hand resting lightly in the middle of Nicole's back. Tension rolled from her, in the way she held herself so stiffly, in the way she quickened her steps. It was almost as if she wanted to get away from him, as if she didn't want him to touch her. Maybe she didn't, maybe she just didn't know how to tell him. Which was just wrong. No woman should be afraid to tell a man to leave her alone, to not touch her.

Mat swallowed back a sigh and dropped his hand then readjusted the pile in his arms. An oversized duffle bag holding two thick blankets and sunscreen and some towels, a small cooler bag with drinks and snacks, Nicole's backpack, two sweatshirts for later in case it got chilly. Although as hot it was already, with the humidity settling around them like a heavy weight, he didn't think that would happen.

Nicole stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hidden behind those large sunglasses she always wore. Her shoulders were still stiff, her jaw clenched just the tiniest bit.

"You should let me help carry something."

"No, I got it." He flashed her a smile, hoping it would put her at ease. She pulled on her lower lip, the action sending a wave of heated awareness straight through him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Nicole was tense and worried about something, it didn't take a genius to figure that out, but his dick apparently didn't care. Well, his dick would just have to wait.

Nicole stopped chewing on her lower lip then turned away, her steps slowing until he caught up. She'd been this way ever since he picked her up an hour ago: tense, a little nervous, not very talkative. At first he thought it was nothing more than normal first-date nerves. Hell, he had his own share of them himself, because this really was their first date. Never mind that they'd already slept together, already had sex, that didn't count. Not as a date, anyway. Not to him.

So yeah, he'd chalked it up to nerves. At least at first. But it didn't take long to realize there was something else going on, something else worrying her.

"Have you ever been to one of these summer concerts?"

Nicole shook her head then reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "No. I've never really been out this far."

This far? She made it sound like they had been driving forever, to a different state or even country. But Oregon Ridge Park wasn't even quite an hour from where she lived in the city, just off I-83. It was situated in northern Baltimore County, a nature park of rolling hills and scenic woodsy landscape. The park hosted concerts during the summer, complete with a symphony orchestra and fireworks. It was a great place to come and just hang out, relax with friends or family, enjoy the outdoors and music and fireworks.

It was the last weekend of July, a bright gorgeous day filled with sunshine, which meant that the crowds would probably be a little bigger and get here even earlier—which is why Mat had picked Nicole up so early. He wanted to find a decent parking space and a good place to drop their things. Some place close enough without being in the middle of everything. Looking around at all the cars and people, he wasn't sure that was going to happen.

"Well, hopefully you have fun." And God, what a stupid thing to say. He should just keep his mouth shut until his mind actually caught up. From the look Nicole gave him, just a quick expressionless glance over her shoulder, she probably thought the same thing. Yeah, he was certainly impressing her.

He didn't say anything else, just caught up to her then took the lead as they climbed the steps to the lodge. Mat waited for her at the top of the steps, wondering how her feet weren't killing her in those heeled platform sandals. They had some kind of leather strapping that wound up her calf, bringing to mind ancient women warriors. And shit, he really needed to stop thinking like that or else he'd never survive this date.

He gave her a small smile when she reached his side then led the way through the building and out the back. Just as he thought: the hillside was already getting crowded. He reached behind him and grabbed Nicole's hand without thinking, wanting to keep her close as they walked through the throng of people milling around. Her hand was ice cold, a little clammy, and he didn't miss the sudden tensing of her fingers. He dropped her hand and turned to look at her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Are you sure? Your hand is ice cold." And she was wearing a light jacket, made out of some kind of thin material with a high waistline. Mat wasn't sure how useful it would be if it was really cold but it had long sleeves, which struck him as odd. Was she getting sick?

Nicole shrugged, not quite facing him, then finally nodded. "I'm fine. Really."

Mat wasn't sure he believed her but he wasn't going to push. He hesitated, then reached for her hand again. And again her fingers tensed in his hold, but only for a few seconds. She looked up at him, studying him from behind those large sunglasses, and finally relaxed, at least a little bit.

He offered her a smile then headed into the crowd, weaving through the groups of people. There was a prime spot—or what he thought was prime, anyway—about a hundred feet to their right, just a little way up the hill. It was close enough so they wouldn't have to hike too far to reach the restrooms or to grab food and drinks from the different vending trucks if they wanted. And it was far enough away and off to the side so they wouldn't be crowded in later. At least, he hoped not.

Mat dropped the load in his arms then bent over and opened the duffel, pulling the blankets out. He unfolded the first one and shook it out, mumbling when it flew back in his face. Laughter floated to his ears, the sound light and musical and over too quickly.

"Here, let me." Nicole tugged the blanket from his hands and spread it out with one efficient toss. She leaned over to straighten a corner. Mat's eyes automatically drifted down, taking in the firm curve of her shapely bottom and tanned length of her toned legs. The hem of her gauzy black skirt drifted up, dangerously high against the back of her thighs, and he nearly groaned.

Then he looked away, his face heating at the thought of being caught staring. That was the last thing he wanted, because he didn't want Nicole to think he was ogling her. Okay, so he was ogling her. How could he not, with the way she looked?

It wasn't just the black gauzy skirt that drifted high on her thighs and swung and bounced just a little when she walked. Or the high-cut fitted jacket she wore over the snug patterned shirt. The shirt was cut just low enough to give him an enticing peak at the swell of her breasts, at the crystal pendant hanging just above the expanse of her cleavage.

And it wasn't even the matching warrior sandals, although he really, really liked those. It was all of her. The entire package, from her clothes to the careless way she pinned her hair back, those colorful pink streaks peeking out. Even her oversized sunglasses, which actually annoyed him because they hid her eyes and he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

It was so much more than the way she looked and he didn't quite understand it. All he knew was that she had somehow gotten under his skin, beginning with that night in New Orleans. He wanted to get to know her better. He wanted to get to know her, period.

So no, he couldn't get caught ogling, no matter how much he enjoyed watching her.

"You should laugh more often."

Nicole whipped her head around, her mouth slightly opened in surprise. And damn, why did he have to go and put his foot in his mouth again? He'd meant it as a compliment but it probably came out the wrong way, if the expression on her face meant anything. He shrugged and gave her a small grin, hoping that would help. "I just meant you have a pretty laugh. That was all."

"Oh. Uh, thanks." But she turned away, like she wasn't sure what else to say. Or maybe the compliment just made her uncomfortable. And when would he learn to just keep his mouth shut?

Mat leaned over and pulled the second blanket out, wondering if he'd make an ass of himself again trying to spread this one out.

"We need two blankets?"

"Yeah. One for us, and one for Derek and Bridget. In case they don't think to bring one." He shook the blanket out and managed to spread it on the ground. Well, mostly. Nicole reached out with her foot and straightened the edge.

"I didn't know anyone else was joining us."

And shit. Had he screwed up again? Mat couldn't quite meet her eyes when he nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I should have told you. Is that okay? I could call Derek and—"

"No, that's fine."

But she didn't look like it was fine. Yeah, he screwed up again. Mat glanced at his watch, wondering if it would be too late to call Derek, to tell him not to show up. He reached for his phone, pulling it from the back pocket of his shorts. Nicole stepped closer and placed her hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Really, it's okay. I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and gave him a smile, but it didn't look like a real one, like the ones that had lit her face the last two times they had been together. Mat hesitated then jammed the phone back into his pocket, suddenly at a loss and wondering what he should do.

He moved over to the blanket and lowered himself onto it, stretching out and leaning back on his hands. He tilted his head, motioning for Nicole to join him. She didn't hesitate, which he took as a good sign. But she also didn't stretch out next to him, like he'd been hoping. There was too much space between them, space he wished wasn't there. He inched over the tiniest bit, watching as she pulled a camera from her bag. Not a small handheld one, not one of those cheaper digital models. This one looked like a professional camera, with a zoom lens and everything. At least, as far as he could tell.

"Taking pictures later?"

Nicole looked up from doing something to the settings and nodded, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. I told Mia I'd bring her in pictures of the fireworks so she could see them."

"Cool. Is Mia your sister or something?"

A shadow passed across his face, there and gone as she shook her head. "Nope. I'm an only child. Mia is one of the kids at the hospital. I couldn't bring her pictures in today because I was coming here so to make up for it, I told her I'd bring in some of the fireworks, too."

Mat shifted on the blanket, trying to swallow back the guilt building in his gut. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had something else you were supposed to do. You could have told me—"

Nicole leaned forward, placing her hand against his arm again. "No, I didn't mean it that way. Honest."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Really. Mia's just a little spitfire and not very patient. Here, I'll show you." She scooted closer to him, her leg brushing his as she brought the camera up between them so he could see the view screen. Mat tilted his head to get a better look without the glare and almost hit Nicole on the cheek. Heat filled his face and he turned his head to apologize, but she just shook her head and laughed. The sound was soft, only audible because he was so close. He froze, watching her, wondering if she knew what just her laugh was doing to him.

But she wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the small screen as she hit the button to scroll through the pictures. Mat wanted to lean forward, wanted to graze her cheek with his lips, with the lightest of kisses—

"Here she is."

He bit back his groan and moved his gaze to the small viewing screen. The pictures were of a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, frozen for a split-second in time. A large smile lit her thin pale face and shone in her eyes. A feather boa floated around her face, the bright pink even brighter against the dark purple of the scarf tied around her head. One picture caught her mid-air, the boa drifting down around her as she flung her arms out to the side. Mat could see the smile in her eyes, could almost hear the laughter as she hung there, weightless, her small frame hovering above the harsh metal frame of a hospital bed. The pictures shouldn't be anything more than candid shots, but they were. So much more. He wasn't sure how she did it but Nicole had captured the life, the inner essence, of the young girl. No, they were definitely more than just candid shots.

His chest tightened, became heavy as Nicole flipped through the pictures one by one. He blinked, blinked again as his throat thickened with unnamed emotion. "You—" He cleared his throat and tried again. "These are really good. I can almost hear her laughing."

Nicole shrugged then turned the camera off and placed it beside her. "They're okay. They'll look better once I enhance them, do some photo shopping. Different backgrounds, things like that."

Why would she want to change them? As far as Mat could tell, they were perfect. The way she framed the little girl, the way she captured that inner spark and flash of determination inside her. "But they're good now, just the way they are. Really. I mean, I don't know anything about photography but they're really good."

Nicole turned to him, her mouth parted in surprise. Her face softened and before he realized what she was going to do, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. The kiss was soft, tender—and she pulled away before he could even think about reacting. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"Oh. Yeah, no problem." He shifted on the blanket and cleared his throat, feeling like an eager teenager. "I meant it, though. Really."