She and Riley had had their night together.
And he’d allowed himself to get distracted. He’d known that he had to keep a close watch, and instead, he’d had sex. And done it so powerfully, he’d fallen into a deep sleep right afterward.
Had he been doing his job, he’d have been more alert. He’d have slept, as he always slept when in the middle of a big job, with one ear open. He didn’t know how he did, he just did. Always had.
Maybe it came from innumerable late-night details, babysitting four toddlers while his parents attended affluent parties and political functions.
In forty-three years he’d never screwed up on a watch.
And now he had.
His own child could have died because of it. The mother of his child could have died, too.
As everyone finally cleared out of his house, leaving him and Charlize alone in the main office, his mind was filled with the apologies he owed her.
Filled with his own mistakes. And with affirmation that he was a man meant to give his life to a job he did better than most. His “calling”—a term he pulled up from verbiage he’d heard his sisters use—was to find justice for others. Not to find a life partner.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Charlize said, coming closer, but not as close as he’d have liked. He could see in the straight expression on her face that she knew their night was done. The sun was rising on a new day and they would go forth as the people they were destined to be.
Meeting an exceptional woman, even having mind-blowing sex with her, didn’t change who and what he was. Just as it couldn’t change the age difference between them.
“I knew the hospital trip was a waste,” he told her. But he’d gone. Partially because he was forty-three years old, not twenty-three, and figured he should just be sure. And...so he could get away from Charlize’s pull over him long enough to get his head on straight.
When he’d seen Simms pulling her by the hair, he’d wanted to murder the man.
And lock Charlize up someplace where he’d know she’d always be safe.
Neither thought was a healthy one.
You didn’t get everything you wanted in life just because you wanted it. And just because you wanted it didn’t mean you could have it. Or should have it.
Look at Simms with Laurene. Simms’s thinking that he had every right to have the woman he wanted had sent him over the edge.
And yet... Riley couldn’t tell Charlize to leave. He stood there with her, saying nothing, until he came up with, “How’s your head?”
He’d already asked, half a dozen times, before he’d left for the hospital.
“Fine,” she said. “I have a bit of a headache, but I think it’s tension more than anything else. I called my doctor, and based on what the medics said, she said there’s no reason for me to come in. She told me what to watch for, and to call her if anything changes.”
Simms had had a handful of her hair in his hand, but there were no discernable bald patches on her head. Riley had checked.
“You want some coffee?” He sure needed some. Before he contacted his siblings. Which he needed to do before Sadie got to work and ended up with evidence bags from her childhood home.
She shook her head. “I called Laurene,” Charlize said. “Iglesias agreed that I should be the one to contact her. There’s no way she could afford bail on an attempted murder charge, and maybe I could help her see the truth...”
Glad to have another minute with her, Riley settled his butt on the corner of Bailey’s desk. “How’d she take it?”
“She cried, but I think they were tears of relief,” she told him, her tone thankful. “She said that they were in the neighborhood yesterday so Ronny could kill me. Ronny was trying to force her to knock on my door, with him out of sight. She was supposed to cry, say she needed my help and then when she had me out there and distracted, he was going to shoot me from across the street. But she wouldn’t do it. That’s why they were fighting.”
Coldness swept through him, unlike any he’d known. “Is she willing to testify?”
“Yes. Iglesias is over there now, getting her statement. She said that after she got away from Ronny yesterday, she called her sister in Phoenix and she’s going to move out there. Get a fresh start...”
She wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t a smiling matter. But he could tell she was relieved.
And he was proud of her.
“Congratulations,” he told her. A job well-done.
In another world maybe they’d go out and get a beer together. If it wasn’t five in the morning. And she wasn’t pregnant.
“Well... I’m going to head out,” she said then. “I’ve already got my stuff together and an officer is waiting outside to take me home.”
He stood. Had had no idea someone was waiting on her.
Wanted to tell her he’d take her himself. Wanted to spend the day with her. Just to make sure everyone was okay.
But knew he wasn’t being rational.
Everyone was fine.
Including him.
“Take good care,” he said, nodding as he met that chocolate-brown gaze that absorbed him every time.
“You, too.” She smiled. Turned to go.
“Charlize?”
“Yeah?”
He didn’t know...just had said her name because he didn’t want it to end that way.
“I’ll call you in a few hours,” he said.
“I’ll pick up.”
Yeah. She’d pick up. She always would. It’s who she was.
He’d do the same, too.
And wondered, as he headed upstairs to shower and then text his siblings, if answering each other’s calls would ever help with picking up the pieces of the life that had never really been put together, but had just shattered, anyway.
Chapter 18
Charlize spent the first half of the morning, after a shower, resting on the couch with the TV on. She dozed a bit, and then fell asleep, waking after an hour feeling refreshed, if not necessarily happier.
She had many reasons to be thankful. To be rejoicing. Her baby was safe and healthy. She was free! And safe. Could resume her life, go where she wanted to go, move about without looking over her shoulder every second.
The fear...it hung around. She’d already called a counselor she trusted, had a brief chat, but knew enough to accept that the fear would be there for a while. Until her psyche worked through the trauma and she could let it go—or at least store it away in the far reaches of unconscious mind.
Putting on a thigh-length black-and-white tweed, sleeveless dress, she left her hair down and put in her favorite pearl and onyx plumeria earrings after she finished her makeup. The black flats were new and comfortable. She chose her ensemble carefully—with one thought in mind—to feel good about herself.
It was Saturday, but she had a couple of appointments scheduled that morning—meetings with families who were gone at work and school during the week. One was a home check for a potential private adoption—that one she looked forward to. The other was another domestic violence home visit ordered by the court: a new client and an important assignment.
She hoped it would be a less volatile one than Ronny Simms. But she knew, even if it wasn’t, she’d do her job and do it well. Just as Riley’s job was something he had to do, hers was, too. Helping families find healthier ways of living and getting victims out of abusive situations, completed something inside her.
With her spirits prepped, she was just walking out the door, intending to stop in at her office before the appointments, when her phone rang. Aunt Blythe.
Her aunt had been on her list to call. She could come home.
When Charlize told her so, figuring she’d tell her about the baby when they were together, offering to pick her up later that afternoon, she was surprised to hear her aunt hem and haw rath
er than eagerly make plans to be ready.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, love,” she said. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay with Grace for a while. Maybe kind of a permanent while. We aren’t getting any younger and we’ve had fun these past couple of days. And... I think maybe she needs me to help around here a bit. She can’t do it all as easily anymore, but refuses to hire someone to come in...”
And just like that, Charlize found herself suddenly living alone. She’d lived alone before her aunt had retired from teaching and moved in with her. There were good sides to having the place to herself. She wouldn’t have to answer to anyone, or explain her whereabouts.
For another six months.
And then she’d be depended upon twenty-four-seven for many years to come. So yeah, being alone was a good thing. A breather before the summer of her life hit.
She’d finished her appointments, was trying to think of what sounded most good to do next—wander around a store’s baby department, maybe look at some cribs, or stop for some of the Thai food she’d never gotten the day before and have a sloth-like night on the couch—when her phone rang.
Pushing the car’s hands-free system on her steering wheel, she glanced at the dash to see who was calling.
Riley.
Maybe she should have looked before answering.
He’d said he’d call.
She’d said she would pick up, and she did.
He asked how her day had gone as though it was any other day and they’d been talking on the phone for years. When, in fact, until that week, they’d never even had each other’s numbers.
She gave him a basic rundown, leaving out any personal thoughts, impressions, feelings, and leaving out client confidential information, as well.
He wanted to know if Blythe was home yet.
She told him no. And nothing more.
He asked about her head, whether or not she’d been queasy at all.
Fine. And no.
Every word he spoke was touching her, with warmth, and a spike to her heart, too. She had fallen head over heels in love with him. She had to accept that.
“I don’t believe in happily-ever-after,” he said, almost as though he was reading her mind—which didn’t surprise her. She pulled over, stopping on a side street by a sign marked public parking in front of an apartment complex.
“I know.”
“I’ve seen too much. Been through too much.”
“I know.”
“Maybe, if we’d met when I was younger...” His voice faded off. She’d have been in high school if they’d met when he was thirty.
“Maybe I’ve just lived too long to find an ever after,” he said, modifying the statement.
Either that or he was just afraid to let himself feel the full intensity of his most intimate emotions. Maybe because he’d seen too much. Been through too much. He knew the risk, how easily it could all be snatched away, more than most.
“I’ve put a lot of bad people away over the years,” he continued, and she really didn’t want to listen to any more. She got the point. Wasn’t arguing it. “It’s been long enough now for some of them that they’ll be getting out. With grudges to satisfy.”
“It’s okay, Riley.” She’d go shopping. Look at cribs. If she went home now she’d just get maudlin. “Truly. I understand.”
His silence wasn’t good, either. She couldn’t look him in the eye. Didn’t know how her words were affecting him. She didn’t like not knowing.
“And we’re good with the co-parenting thing,” he said. They hadn’t really talked about it all that much. But she’d said she’d accommodate him and his family.
“We’ll need to discuss specifics,” she told him. “Children need consistency so there will need to be some kind of set schedule, but we’ve got time to figure that out.”
“Okay.” He sounded better. Which made her feel a bit better.
“I do think, at least when he or she is old enough to walk and talk, that you should have nights at your house now and then. It needs to be a place that feels like safety and security.” She thought about asking him if he wanted to come with her to look at cribs. Maybe find something portable for his house.
“Iglesias contacted the RevitaYou users today who commented on Facebook and Twitter. Three of them reported more than just nausea. There were severe GI problems.”
So much for crib shopping. She knew what he was doing: changing the subject because she’d gotten too close, gone further than he could currently wrap his mind around.
“Thank God Aunt Blythe threw hers away.” She said the first thing that came to mind that would serve as a response to his statement. And then, catching up, asked, “Are they going to be okay?”
“They aren’t sure. The problems are ongoing.”
She wasn’t thinking about cribs anymore, either.
“So now what? I mean, people like my aunt, they’re out there, taking these things...”
“I’m heading down to the news station shortly. I called earlier and they agreed to meet with me, and to interview Iglesias on air.” He named the largest station in the city and a well-known newscaster. “We’re going to get the word out, locally, at least, that this stuff is making people sick. They’re going to give a rundown on the scam and on the disappearance of Wes Matthews, too.”
Because Riley got the job done. One way or another.
He’d told her and Aunt Blythe that he was going to find the man. He’d told Brody that he’d find Capital X and make it possible for Brody to return safely home. Just as he’d promised Charlize he’d see that she made it safely home.
And he had.
This man did what he said he was going to do. He didn’t quit until he did.
Her baby was very lucky to have him for a father.
“I was thinking...just been thinking about it on and off throughout the day...we could live together...here.” He’d given her no warning, no hint even. Just dropped the bomb in her lap.
“Riley...”
“Think about it. Your aunt could come, too. This place is big enough for all of us. We could convert the downstairs bedroom back into a bedroom and I could take that, letting the rest of you have the upstairs to yourself. If that’s what you want...
“Or, maybe, your aunt could have that room and you and I and the baby could have the three rooms upstairs. And if...in the future...there’s ever a time when you and I want to...have another night...we could easily do that without it being a big deal...”
But it would be a big deal. Every time. And every night when she slept alone, too.
She didn’t want to “think about it.” Couldn’t afford to “think about it.” She’d only been at CI headquarters for three nights and she was already missing being there.
Such a crazy thought in itself. She’d never even met the rest of the family. But staying in their house, knowing they were downstairs sitting at the dining room table with Riley, knowing they were going to be aunts and uncle to her baby, she felt like she knew them all.
And, for a brief time, had been a part of them. She’d slept in the same bed some of them had slept in. Had worked at a desk at least one of them had worked at.
Eaten on a tea table that two of them had had in their room growing up.
“Think about it.” Riley’s voice came again, his tone softer. Getting close to touching her within the depths she’d shut off to him when she’d left his home that morning.
“I don’t have to think about it,” she said aloud. And then added, “I can’t accept crumbs, Riley.”
His silence brought tears to her eyes. When she could stand the quiet no more, she told him she had to go and hung up.
* * *
The silence hit Riley hard late Saturday afternoon. His siblings had all descended upon him shortly after his text to them and had hovered
on and off—taking turns watching him for any signs of feeblemindedness, he was sure—making him feel like an old man. He’d humored them for a few hours, understanding that they were worried, answered all their questions multiple times. When the younger twins insisted on cleaning the debris from upstairs, including washing the sheets Charlize had used, he’d simply raised a hand toward the upper level and let them have at it.
And then he’d gone to work. Putting his mind to Wes Matthews, Capital X and Brody. Tuning out the world, focusing completely, as he looked through all of the things he knew to find the question that would lead him to a clue that would get the job done.
It’s what he did, and did well.
And righted his world again, brought back his peace, until he stepped outside his office to find the house empty.
Quiet.
His siblings had all knocked on his closed office door, at various times, to tell him goodbye. All but Griffin, who’d texted to say he was heading out. He vaguely remembered each of them there.
Bailey and Ashanti weren’t typically in the office on Saturdays.
Pal, who’d suffered blunt-force trauma to the lower side of her head but was already showing signs of full recovery, was at the vet overnight, just for observation.
He missed all of them. His annoying sisters and brother, his employees, his faithful canine companion.
And he missed Charlize most of all. Which made no sense to him. She’d only been in his life for less than a week. In his home for a few days.
He was going to be a father. To have a child of his own in the world.
As he walked through the quiet in the downstairs rooms, he thought about growing up in that house. About being a kid. For the first thirteen years of his life, he’d been nothing but a kid. Sneaking food into the family room while he watched TV. He’d dropped a bit of chocolate pudding on the couch cushion one time. Had done everything he could think of to clean up the spot, and then, failing that, had flipped the cushion over, hoping to never get discovered. He couldn’t remember what had happened to that cushion, or the couch, for that matter, but he remembered the months he’d spent worrying over that spot.
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