Nurture

by Sarah Masters

  Lil barked out a small laugh. “After everything I’ve put people through, you don’t think I deserve a little payback?”

  “No.” Not like this. I remembered Simpson’s words. ‘You don’t sleep with shit like that and not get tainted with the stink.’ Well, maybe those hadn’t been his exact words, but the sentiment was accurate. “You’ve put up with my nasty remarks and bad attitude longer than you should have had to.” I sighed. “I can be a jerk. And Carl didn’t exactly bring out the best in me.” I met Lil’s eye, squared my shoulders. “I’m sorry. For everything. Not just Carl. For how I treated you.”

  Lil shook his head. “Honey, you think I don’t know why you needed to try and protect him? Brian always said you weren’t really like that. I had to believe him. You stuck by him. If it had been about me, about this”—he waved a hand over himself—“you’d have buggered off, and you didn’t. So.” He let out a tiny huff, blinked and shook his lanky frame. “First-aid. Come on.” He took my arm and firmly led me off toward the hallway.

  The man had presence, and he knew when to use it. I followed, relieved enough that here, at least, were people who only wanted to help, that I didn’t mind the way he ordered me about. From what I’d seen of his relationship with Brian, he was used to being obeyed, and I had no reserves left to fight him anyway.

  Vic came after us, directing us into the bathroom and handing over the first-aid kit. He didn’t stick around, and Lil worked in comforting silence. The process of getting the old, bloodied bandages off and new ones applied left me giddy and lightheaded. Finally, he finished and I sat on the edge of the tub trying to find the energy to move. A minute later, it was Vic who came in to fetch me.

  “All right?” He lowered himself onto the closed toilet seat and peered at me. Every movement was stiff, as though he was barely managing to hold himself together and upright.

  “No.” It was completely irrational to want to throw myself into his arms and hope it all went away. I wasn’t sure I could deal with any of it.

  He nodded. “I made soup if you’re up to it.”

  I gazed at the new bandages around my wrists. Lil had washed away the old blood, cleaned me elbows to fingertips. It was the only part of me that didn’t feel dirty and tainted.

  Again, Vic nodded. “Bath first. Then food, then sleep.”

  I lifted my gaze to him. “You a mind reader?”

  His smile, even shining through his own strain, made my breath catch. He reached out and cradled the side of my face with one hand. I vaguely wondered what his dark skin would look like against my paler, freckled cheek.

  “No.” He moved his thumb gently.

  My eyelids fluttered involuntarily.

  “Just not completely oblivious.” His thumb continued lower, over my lips.

  I didn’t resist the urge to turn my head into his touch. I needed to ask him questions. About Brian. About how he knew so much about me. I should have been more careful. I didn’t know a thing about Vic, and he seemed to know everything about me. That wasn’t normal. But then, what about my life was? He offered comfort and what felt like safety. Lil trusted him enough to listen to him, and Lil didn’t listen to anyone.

  “Okay,” he said.

  He moved his hand, caressed the back of my neck, and I realized my eyes had drifted closed.

  “Don’t fall asleep in the tub.”

  I jerked upright as he reached across me, turned on the faucet then set the plug.

  “I’ll fetch clean clothes,” he said. “Be right back.”

  I stood as he moved to the door. “Vic.”

  He turned back.

  “Thank you.”

  After a slight pause, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “For what? Believing your boyfriend is a mass murderer? Stalking you? Arresting you?” He snickered, but it was just a tired, defeated sound.

  “For whatever it is that makes me trust you anyway.”

  He nodded, and as I watched, some of the strain fell away. His eyes unshuttered. There was so much in there I didn’t understand, but nothing to fear.

  “I’m through letting him hurt the people I care about, Paul. Job be damned. You’re more important than a badge.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  He smiled, the kind of expression aimed almost mockingly at himself. “No. But I want to.” He opened the door then stepped out but turned back to me from the other side. “You okay with that?”

  I think my grin came off crooked and a little idiotic. I could blame it on not much sleep, no food, on lightheaded loopiness and the complete chaos that had become my life. Or not. “I’m okay with that, yeah.”

  When I emerged from the bath almost an hour later, Lil sat at the kitchen table, a bowl of cooling soup in front of him. He was glaring up at Vic.

  “What’s going on?” I glanced between the two of them.

  Vic stood with his hands on his hips, his angry expression a mask for something deeper. I could still see that glint in his eyes, too close to panic. He didn’t like being out of control, and Lil was not someone who would stand for someone else taking over for him.

  I backed off a step or two.

  “No.” Vic frowned more deeply, crossed his arms in front of himself, and refused to let go of Lil’s attention.

  “What, I’m a prisoner now?”

  “No. Just…” Vic sighed and slumped into the chair opposite him, deflated. “Why take the chance? For what? Pantyhose and pumps?”

  “Don’t mock.” Lil tightened his fingers into fists, hiding his perfect manicure.

  Another sigh. “I’m not mocking.” Vic reached over and patted Lil’s hand then got up again and headed to the stove. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. In fact, I think you should just call in tomorrow and stay here. Where you’re safe.”

  “Vic.” Lil rolled his eyes. “I’m a big boy.”

  Vic returned, plonked another bowl of soup on the table opposite Lil, and leaned over him. “Tell me Brian didn’t say the exact thing I just said when you left for work last night.”

  Lil snarled at him. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

  Vic straightened, arms crossed over his chest again and feet spread, exactly like I remember my father doing back before he fell apart, when he was trying to look stern.

  “Him, on the other hand…” Lil continued, waving a hand in my direction. “He needs a good grounding. Keep him out of jail.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. “Asshole.” I plopped into the seat where Vic had set the soup.

  “Pantywaist.” Lil picked up his spoon and delicately sipped his soup.

  Vic burst out laughing.

  We both watched him for a minute. The aggression drained away with some of the tension from Vic’s shoulders. He eased his stance and rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Humor an old alpha dog, would you, Lil? At least let me take you over there. You can pick up what you need, and I’ll bring you back here.”

  Lil rolled his eyes again, but he nodded. “Fine.”

  That’s when Vic’s cell rang. He took the call and wandered off a ways. I couldn’t hear everything. I did hear a name and a lot of cursing from Vic.

  “Kevin.” I set my spoon down without having touched my soup. I knew I had to be pale. The room spun a bit. Kevin. That had been the name Vic muttered into his phone, as though trying to place it. I didn’t have the same trouble.

  “Who’s Kevin?” Lil reached across the table to touch my hand.

  I pulled it back into my lap. “Carl’s father’s name is Kevin.”

  From across the room, I could feel Vic’s gaze on me. “Lil, I’ve called in a uniform to meet us at your place. I have to go in to the station. He’ll bring you back here.”

  When Lil started to protest, Vic shook his head sharply. “Please, Lil.”

  Vic was staring at me, and I saw the rest of his request in his eyes. He didn’t have to say it out loud.

  “He doesn’t want to leave me alone, Lil.” A few days ago, that mu
ch over-protectiveness would have made me crazy. Now, I met Lil’s gaze and only just managed not to ask him to stay and to hell with his pantyhose.

  “Carl’s back in action.” Vic’s quiet statement set my gut churning. “He’s killed his father. Probably on his way back into town. I have to go.”

  He didn’t say I have to find him, but it was all over his face. God, I hoped he found Carl before Carl found him.

  “There’s just no end to this bloody nightmare,” Lil whispered.

  I started shivering again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carl sat outside Paul’s place, drumming his fingertips on the center of the steering wheel. He’d driven from Greg’s and had arrived back in town, safe under cover of darkness. For a while he’d watched. Young people occupied those homes, and any one of them could come back from a night of clubbing and spot him. An hour passed, him seeing no one, so he slipped out of the pickup and entered the building. The silence inside cloaked him, and his footsteps echoed, giving him the feeling he was the only person on the planet. Unnerved by that thought, he slid the key into the lock on Paul’s front door then stepped inside. If Paul was home it meant someone else had posted bail—probably that fucking Brian or Lil—but if he wasn’t inside…

  Then my plans haven’t been fucked up.

  He searched the rooms, pleased at finding them all empty. In a bold move, but unable to stand not knowing for sure, he used the landline to call the police station. Disguising his voice, he inquired whether Paul was in residence there.

  “Who’s calling, please?” a bored-sounding desk jockey asked.

  “A friend.”

  “And your name is?”

  “Listen, is Paul Murdoch there or not?”

  “Hold the line, please.”

  Shit.

  Carl gripped the receiver then slammed it back into the cradle, the sudden thought of line tracing sending dread through him. How long had that line been open? Wasn’t it thirty seconds before they could get a trace? He laughed at his stupidity. Paul’s home number would have been logged right away.

  Fuck!

  He left the apartment, taking the stairs in a mad rush and skidding on each landing. Outside, he scanned the area, running across the grass to the pickup, head down, heart beating way too fast. Once in the driver’s seat, he gunned the engine then pulled away, his destination the police station. Crazy, fucking crazy going there after that call, but he had to know. A part of him admitted something was off. Why hadn’t that cop just told him whether Paul was there? All right, Paul had probably been hauled in on a murder charge—or two—but Christ, a simple yes or no wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  He scrubbed his palm over his chin. Wouldn’t be long before he had a full-on beard—and that wasn’t a bad thing. A sense of shit having gone down gripped him, like he knew for a fact things hadn’t panned out as he’d hoped. That he was being hunted. He chuckled. Was a higher calling telling him this?

  Behave your fucking self. This is you, not some otherworldly entity orchestrating things. Probably instinct. Yeah, I can go with that.

  At the police station, he reversed into a parking space in a line of vehicles outside. Five uniformed officers stood on the steps on a smoke break, their exhalations joining as one cloud above their heads before vanishing. A suited guy came out to join them, striking a match on a bright yellow box then lighting a cigarette.

  Detective. Gotta be.

  How could Carl find out what the hell was going on? He smiled as a thought snaked into his mind. Could he do it and get away with it? Nodding and adjusting his cap, he got out of the car and headed toward the cops, who looked up as he neared.

  “Can y’all help me?” he drawled. “I heard my brother’s in there. Think he might need bail postin’.” He smiled, lips closed, keeping his eyes narrowed. “Got a call from our mama tellin’ me to get my ass down here and haul that sucker out! Damn fool. Told him time and again not to steal no shit.”

  The suited cop crushed his cigarette beneath his heel then picked up the stub. He shook his head and returned inside, disappearing through an internal doorway.

  “No one in the cells—for once. They’ve all been let out,” said a burly uniform, smoke curling from his mouth with each word. “You sure you got the right cop shop? Might have been taken to the one in Drummington. Depends where he was picked up.”

  Carl slapped his thigh. “Aww, damn me! My mama said this one, but you can sure as shit say she’s got it wrong.” He smiled again then sighed. “Looks like I need to give her a call and find out where my bro really is, ’cause, man, she’ll be frettin’ until I get him out.” He raised a hand in thanks and walked back to the pickup. In the driver’s seat, he peered toward the steps, but the cops had gone inside.

  He peeled out of his spot, wondering where Paul was. Drummington station—they wouldn’t have taken him there. No, he’d be with that fucking Brian and Lil.

  Probably just Lil. Too much to hope I nicked one of Brian’s arteries or something.

  He headed toward Brian’s place, musing on whether to knock them up or just watch. He dickered between the two options for the whole drive, keeping his visual attention on the traffic, sparse as it was, in case any cops patrolled. Last thing he needed was the pickup being spotted if it had been reported as stolen. Easing the vehicle around a corner, Carl then slowed to a stop opposite Brian’s apartment. He glanced up at the building, the large living room windows facing him, and the sight of a light on inside Brian’s gave him hope. Maybe Paul had been released, hence someone being awake up there, or maybe that Lil was on one of his weird-ass shifts. If Paul was out of jail—if, indeed, he’d even been inside in the first place—it didn’t matter.

  The bail option would have worked out so well, me saving Paul and all, but I’ll think of some other way to make him grateful he has me. Yeah, he’ll be damn grateful by the time I’m done. No fucking doubt about that.

  Someone walked past Brian’s living room window. Not Brian, Lil or Paul. No, some guy Carl didn’t recognize. He moved past again, phone clamped to his ear, and Carl strained to make out his features. Nothing registered as familiar, and he frowned.

  Who the fuck is that? And why the hell have they got someone over in the middle of the night?

  He laughed, the sound loud, startling him.

  Unless they’re having a gang bang. Wouldn’t put it past that Lil. Weird motherfucker.

  The guy didn’t pass the window again, and Carl remained vigilant, gaze glued to that building, his observations rewarded when Lil approached the window then snapped the drapes shut.

  Shit.

  Seconds later, someone stepped through the main building doorway, and Carl hunched down in his seat. He followed the guy’s progress, the shape of him shrouded by shadows, but it was the same dude from Brian’s apartment. His side profile matched. The man strode to the curb behind the pickup, and Carl stared at him in his rear-view mirror. The guy unlocked a low-slung sports car then slid into the seat.

  Flashy bastard.

  An engine hummed then the car eased past the pickup. Carl stared inside, the sight of the driver sending him crazy with hatred.

  That damn fucking guy Paul stared at a while back. What the hell is he doing round Brian’s?

  Anger spiking inside him, Carl followed his instincts and swerved out of his parking space, trailing the sports car far enough back that he’d appear like any other driver.

  Nothing to see here, I’m just taking a night-time drive.

  As their destination became apparent, Carl’s guts clenched. He parked farther back than he had before, the pickup’s higher seat giving him full view of the police station. The car in front had turned into the parking lot beside the building, and now the driver walked from there to the steps, engaging in conversation with yet another group of officers smoking.

  Man, next they’ll be breaking out the damn donuts. No wonder they can’t catch me—they never do any work.

  The driver nodded, patt
ed one officer’s shoulder as though he knew him well, and realization dawned.

  He’s a fucking cop!

  Paul had to be at Brian’s. No other explanation for that cop being there—unless he’d taken Brian’s statement. Yeah, that had to be it. Lil would have called the cops about Carl’s visit. No way would that freak keep it quiet.

  Carl waited until the officers went inside before he drove away, mind awhirl with possible scenarios and how he should deal with them. Adrenaline whipped through him, chasing away any tiredness he’d usually feel in this situation where he’d had no sleep, and he found himself back outside Paul’s. Scanning the street once more, he deemed it safe enough to stay. He reclined the seat, grabbed the motel blanket and pillow then settled back for the long haul.

  Fifteen minutes passed. Fifteen minutes of going through his options, working out what to do next. The sky lightened a little, and he glanced at the dashboard clock. Christ, where had the time gone? Daylight would arrive shortly, revealing him to people leaving for work and maybe noticing the pickup parked outside their homes. He doubted being there would seem significant until… No, he’d covered his ass. The police weren’t looking for him. That feeling of being hunted returned, though, and he shivered, mind chugging along to figure out an alternative plan. If the cops were onto him, did that mean Paul had dropped Carl in the shit?

  If he did, it means… Fuck. I can’t be without him. Won’t be without him. He won’t have let me down. He loves me. He just doesn’t realize how much, that’s all.

  Another two hours slipped by, with Carl dozing, resting his eyes but his mind and ears still alert. The sound of car doors slamming brought him fully aware, and he raised the seat, longing for a coffee or cold soda to wash away the fur on his tongue. A bright burst of sunlight glanced off the windshield and he squinted, watching those leaving for work, the street emptying of vehicles until only his pickup and two other cars remained.

  Further exposed, Carl pulled his cap peak down some more then glanced in the rear-view mirror. Heavy stubble covered his lower face, and he laughed. Even he didn’t recognize himself. Rooting inside the glove compartment, he found a pair of sunglasses. He slipped them on, the large lenses changing his appearance further. Satisfied, he started the engine then headed out of the street and toward a convenience store a few blocks down. It served hot coffee—albeit from a vending machine—and he bought one plus a bottle of Coke and some snacks. Back in the pickup, he returned to Paul’s street but parked farther down than before. Close enough to see any comings and goings but far enough away that his identity wouldn’t be made out.