Missed

by Tess Thompson

  “You can stay above the covers.”

  “Just until you fall asleep. Then I’ll go back to my own bed.” He smoothed the comforter and then lay on his side next to her.

  She removed one hand from under her cheek and touched the scar on his shoulder. “Does it still hurt?”

  His eyes flickered upward. “Nah. It’s just ugly.”

  Not to me. “What happened?”

  “It was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “No, tell me the details,” she said.

  “I was off duty. Like a lot of nights, I popped into the convenience store around the corner from my place to pick up a six-pack of beer and some snacks. I was back by the cooler when I saw the guy walk in. He was jumpy and had his hand in one pocket of his jacket. My radar went up. I dipped behind a display of soda and watched him look around, like he was casing the place. Then he pulled his hand out of his pocket and pointed a gun at the owner. He yelled at him to empty the register. I knew the owner wasn’t the type to back down easily. I’d shopped there for years and knew he was stubborn as hell. The guy raised his gun. I took out mine and pointed it at him, shouting at him that I was a cop. He turned toward me and pulled the trigger, as did I. My shot tore through his chest. His bullet went through my shoulder.”

  “You killed him?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I was investigated by Internal Affairs. I had to go through a whole thing where they treated me like the criminal. There were politics at play. The guy I shot was white. I’m Hispanic, obviously. The shop owner was Middle Eastern. Like everything these days, it became more than just an isolated case. Everything’s looked at through the lens of politics these days. The whole thing turned into a media circus. If you’d lived out here, you probably would’ve heard about the whole mess. At the end, I was cleared, but it ruined the job for me. So I took early retirement and got out of there.”

  “Do you ever miss it? The rush?”

  “No, I had enough of the rush. Working for the Mullen family’s a blessing.” He adjusted the pillow under his head. “These beds are criminal. I’ll never want to go back to my real life.”

  “Is your real life good?”

  “Good enough,” he said.

  “What if it were great?”

  “Is there such a thing? Seems to me life’s mostly hard. For a guy like me, anyway. I figure if you have a place to lay your head every night that’s safe, a full belly, a few people who care about you, that’s about as good as it gets.”

  “We’re never safe.”

  “You’re safe right now.” His thumb brushed under her eye, then traveled to her lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You can rest easy and make these dark circles disappear.”

  She closed her eyes for a second. Those rough hands against her skin soothed her in a way nothing else ever had. “I never let anyone see me like this.” Only Pepper and Maggie were permitted to see her raw, without makeup and wet hair plastered against her head.

  “Like what?”

  “No makeup. Wet hair,” she said.

  “Do you know what I see?”

  “A mess?” She smiled.

  “I see an angel.” His voice was like smooth red wine, velvety and warm. “I wonder if you were sent from heaven to soften my bitter, crusty heart with your sweetness? I don’t know how a man like me gets the privilege to be here with you right now, but I made a promise to God that I’d do my best to deserve you, even if it’s only for a short time.”

  “Rafael.” The tears that filled her tired eyes acted as a salve.

  “Tonight, trying to fall asleep, I went through every moment of our time together, sure that when I woke in the morning, I’d see it was all a dream.”

  “I’m real.” And alive. She was alive. God had spared her. The bullets had missed her. Why? She could not know. All she knew was that right now, looking into Rafael’s eyes reminded her that she was still here, ready to fight and live and maybe even love with all her heart.

  “Are you sleepy yet, Stardust?”

  She nodded. Her eyes were on fire. She closed them and burrowed deeper into the bed. “Don’t leave. Stay here?”

  “I’ll stay with you. Against my better judgment. And don’t try to kiss me or there won’t be anyone sleeping anytime soon.”

  She smiled and opened her eyes to get one last look at his handsome face. “If you put it that way, I’ll definitely be kissing you.”

  “Go to sleep, Stardust.”

  She closed her eyes, too sleepy to disobey.

  9

  Rafael

  * * *

  Rafael lay on his back in the faintly lit bedroom. Next to him, tucked under the covers, Lisa slept. Him? Not so much. He might never sleep again.

  The last twenty-four hours were surreal. Lisa Perry had tilted his world. He was afraid he might fall off and into the abyss forever. That was it. The problem. He knew how this would go. She was infatuated with him for the time being. She’d been through a lot, and he seemed heroic to her. Give it a month or two and she’d be back in this world shooting another movie and she’d grow further and further away from him and his world. This little stardust angel was about to blossom into the next huge star. She was special. Any dolt could see that. Even him. Her break had come. Her time had come. Who was he to hold her back?

  He would not. When the time came, he would let her go. That said, if he’d learned anything during his time in the military and on the force, it was that life was short and mostly awful. If a splash of joy spilled into your life, you better man up and take it. Lisa Perry had come his way, and he was going to enjoy every moment of her sweet presence, knowing that at the end he would go home to his beach town and lick his wounds and spend the rest of his life trying to forget the time he spent with an angel.

  She shifted in her sleep and rolled to her other side. He pulled the blankets over her shoulder. She was this odd mixture of vulnerable and strong. He was certain she had no idea how strong she really was. People never did until they were tested. Yes, the concert had scared her, but that wouldn’t keep her down for long. As adamant as she was now about not talking about it, he had a distinct feeling she would become quite outspoken for stricter gun laws. He could see her now, rising to the challenge, providing a voice to the hundreds of victims of mass shootings and their families.

  He shivered and yawned. It was cold on top of the covers. He looked longingly at the warm bump that was Lisa. She’d asked him to stay. Not my idea. Hers. She wouldn’t want him to be cold or awake the rest of the night. She needed him alert and responsive. The next few weeks would require him to focus. Crowds of people would be waiting when they got out of the car at various events. He would need to act like a real bodyguard. Which meant he needed his sleep.

  Screw it. I’m getting in. I’ll keep my distance. This bed was enormous.

  He slipped in beside her and lay on his back with his hands at his sides. As if it were pure instinct, she rolled over and snuggled up beside him. Now he was stuck on his back. Not the way he slept, ever. He was a sleep-on-his-stomach guy with his face pressed against the pillow. Her hair tickled his neck. He kissed the top of her head, her damp hair like lotion to his chapped lips. He breathed in the scent of her. If he were on death row, he would not ask for a last meal. He would ask for the scent of this woman and be content to slip from this world.

  Her skin next to his arm felt like silk. She moaned softly. The sound went directly to his groin. He’d like to make her moan like that for other reasons. Okay now. Think of something else. His latest golf game, or a certain politician and her pantsuits. Do not think about what she feels like or looks like under those pajamas.

  “Rafael?” Her sleepy voice pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you under the covers or is this a dream?”

  “I was cold, and I didn’t want to leave you. Now go back to sleep.” Please don’t move your arm down. A few more inches and she was going to feel h
ow hard he was and maybe startle awake, horrified.

  “I’m glad,” she mumbled, and then breathed in through her nose to make one ladylike snore.

  Stay asleep. The dark circles under her eyes had alarmed him earlier. Between that and the haunted way she had looked out that window, he’d ached for her. The last thing she needed was a man lusting over her body.

  She snuggled more deeply into him. What the hell. This was impossible. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Sleep well, little angel.

  As he closed his eyes, he prayed. Please, God, don’t let this be the return of my teenage wet dream years.

  Rafael was never one to sleep much past sunrise, and the next morning was no exception. He opened his eyes to the view of a strange wall. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Beverly Hills. Fancy hotel. Sleeping next to an angel. Sunshine peeped under the shades and cast the room in light. He rolled over to inspect his angel, half expecting to find an empty bed. She was still there. He smiled and resisted the urge to touch her, pull her under him, and wake her with kisses.

  He tucked the covers up over her shoulder. Lisa slept with her arms wrapped around a pillow like a girl with a teddy bear. She breathed evenly and in sleep appeared peaceful, all the worries and fears erased from her face. She was so pretty with her fair cheeks flushed. Blond curls were splayed all over the pillow. Her nose whistled as she breathed. Even her whistle was cute. She stirred and let out a faint squeak. He thought she might wake, but no.

  Dude, what are you doing?

  He was watching a woman sleep. Seriously? It was like something from one of those cheesy telenovelas his mother liked.

  But God, what a beauty you made. How was a mere mortal supposed to turn away?

  Dude, you have got to get a grip.

  His stomach growled. As much as he adored this woman, she was going to starve him to death. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and tiptoed across the bedroom floor to the doorway. He took one last look at her. Still sleeping. Good. He would order some breakfast and then work out downstairs in the gym. By then, she’d probably be awake, and people would arrive to wrap her up into their perfect package for the party they were to attend that night.

  Somewhat sheepishly, given the prices on the menu, he called down to room service and ordered the traditional egg breakfast and a pot of coffee. Lisa would probably want a cup when she woke. What would she like to eat? He’d seen Kara order dry toast and poached eggs when the Mullens had dined out for breakfast on the honeymoon.

  He added that to the order. What else did women like for breakfast? Fruit? “Do you have fruit?” he asked.

  “Yes sir. We have a medley of tropical fruits today.”

  A medley? He had no idea what a medley was, but tropical sounded promising.

  “Would you care for water with lemon?”

  “Sure, yeah,” Rafael said. His mother and her friends always asked for lemon in their water. Mama had explained why to him once, but he couldn’t remember the reasons.

  “Anything else, Mr. Perry?”

  Mr. Perry? He smiled. He was Mr. Perry for the next three weeks. There were worse things to be called.

  After he hung up, he paced in front of the window. Mr. Perry. If she fell for him for real, and this was unlikely, but if she did, would he be able to deal with being Mr. Perry? She was rich and about to get richer. He wouldn’t even be able to afford a decent ring.

  What are you doing? Ring? He had to get control of his thoughts.

  An image of Lisa in a white dress floated across his imagination.

  That was it. He needed a punishing workout.

  He put on a sweatshirt and turned on the television to one of the news stations. They were still talking about the shooting. Two more victims had died from their wounds. Dammit.

  Lisa had asked him if he missed the excitement of the force. He didn’t. He did miss the feeling that he could do something to make the world better. As frustrating as the job had been at times, at least he’d been doing something.

  The coverage turned to details about the shooter. They’d pieced together a few more details about the guy. He was ex-military who’d served in both Iraq and Afghanistan. The show ran a clip of an interview with his ex-wife. She said he’d come home from his last tour damaged. He was prone to bursts of violence and irrational rage over small things, like being cut off in traffic. “I worried he was a time bomb waiting to happen. I begged him to get help, but he said he was fine.” When he threatened her with a loaded gun one night, she left for good. “I loved the man he was, but this new version was a monster. I was living with a stranger.” The reporter went on to say that they’d been divorced for four years with almost no contact. She’d gotten a court order to keep him away from her and their daughter. “I moved on. Tried to forget all the ways the army stole my family from me.”

  Not the army, lady. The terrorists who want us all dead. That’s who stole your family.

  “And now, what he’s done…” She started crying. “I blame myself. I should have made him get help. But I was afraid of him. Even so, I had no idea he was capable of this.”

  Next, they talked about the musical acts that had played that afternoon. They were shaken, especially Wyatt Black, who had been singing when it started. He’d released a statement about how devastated he was and said that he would be donating a million dollars to the victims and their families. The next news bit was about how the country music community had come together to organize a concert to benefit the victims and families.

  Money wouldn’t fix them. Nothing could change what Lisa and the thousands of others had seen and heard. Nothing would make up for the loss of loved ones.

  He turned off the television just as his mother called his cellular.

  “Hi, Mama.”

  “Rafael, this is your mama.” His mother always shouted into the phone like they were in a snowstorm or had a bad connection.

  He put her on speaker and rubbed his ear. “Yeah, hi, Mama.”

  “I had a bad dream about you. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Los Angeles with a client,” he said.

  “That foxy Brody Mullen?”

  He rolled his eyes. Mama loved foxy Brody Mullen. “No, another client. A friend of theirs. She’s an actress.”

  “An actress? Who?”

  “Have you heard of Lisa Perry? She’s on the show Indigo Road.”

  “Yes, the one about the sisters. Ria and I love that show. It’s a relief to watch something where the people all have their clothes on.”

  “She was at the concert.”

  She gasped. “The one with the shooter?”

  “That’s right.”

  “She’s scared to be alone, so she hired you to protect her?”

  He nodded. Mama always understood things like this without much explanation. “She has all these interviews and parties and stuff to go to over the next few weeks, so the Mullens asked if I’d look after her. Peace of mind, that’s all. She’s not in any danger.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Not to her. Every loud noise makes her jump.”

  A twinge of guilt bolted through him. That damn neighborhood where she lived. He hadn’t yet told her about the apartment building. His plan had been to have it finished and then bring her and Ria up to Cliffside Bay to see the spaces. He didn’t think they’d be able to resist the idea once they saw Trey’s and Stone’s handiwork. Now, though, the urge to tell her about it was too hard to resist.

  “Mama, have you thought about my idea to move to Cliffside Bay?”

  “Coming to live there?”

  “Yes. What else would I be talking about?”

  “I can’t leave Ria. You know that.”

  Ria. Mama’s best friend and neighbor for thirty years. How could she possibly abandon her? They’d had this discussion many times before. This time he had the answer.

  “What if you and Ria were to both m
ove to Cliffside Bay?”

  “Where would we live? We can’t afford an apartment in a place like that.”

  “What if I told you I had a place for both of you?”

  “I can’t afford an apartment in that town. You know that.”

  “Mama, I bought an apartment complex. I had it renovated. The bottom-floor apartments are for you and Ria. You’ll live next to each other, just like now. Rent free.” Only I won’t have to worry about gunfire from warring gang members.

  Silence greeted him on the other end of the phone.

  “Mama?”

  “Ria’s very proud. She won’t like charity.”

  “She’s practically family. I promised Paulo I’d take care of her, and I’ve done a piss-poor job of it.”

  “What happened to him wasn’t your fault,” she said.

  She might not think so, but he knew better. He should have fought harder to convince Paulo to get out of the neighborhood after he was rejected by the military. He was color blind. The blow had been too much for Paulo in a world that had already given him too many. He’d joined a gang instead. Paulo had seen it as his only choice.

  “This could be a fresh start for Ria.” Appealing to her sense of loyalty to Ria might convince her. “Think about that. She wouldn’t have to walk past the place her son was killed every day on the way to work.”

  “When would this happen?” she asked.

  “Any time you’re ready.” He tried to keep the excitement from his voice. “The apartments were finished a few days ago. They’re amazing, Mama. You’ll love living there.”

  “What about my job?” she asked.

  “You’re almost sixty-five. Isn’t it time to retire? Without rent, you’d be fine, right?” She’d worked for the neighborhood elementary school for almost forty years as a lunch lady. Rosa the lunch lady was a local legend. He knew it would be hard for her to walk away from “her kids,” but she deserved to relax for the latter part of her life. “You’ve got the money, Mama. You know you do.”