#1-3--The O’Connells

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  It had been nearly three months since their brother had shipped out. To where, exactly, none of them knew. They’d heard from him only once in the past month.

  “No, it could be any day or several more weeks,” Suzanne said. “Who knows what part of the world they’ve sent him and his team?”

  Marcus simply nodded as he listened to the goodbyes and walked back to his cruiser. He climbed behind the wheel, seeing his cell phone and the fact that there were no messages. He needed sleep and food, as he thought of the omelette he hadn’t finished that morning at his loft. Maybe he’d order some Chinese, considering he lived right above the takeout restaurant.

  Then there was Charlotte. Normally, he never went this long in a day without talking to her.

  He took in the town as he drove home, and the street where he lived, and the Subaru that looked a lot like Charlotte’s parked between a minivan and a pickup in front of the Chinese restaurant.

  Marcus pulled into a reserved spot and stepped out of his cruiser and onto the sidewalk. Charlotte was standing by the door that led up to his loft. There was a duffle bag on the ground at her feet, and she was wearing a faded brown sweater and blue jeans. Her dark hair was hanging loose over her shoulders.

  “You look tired, Marcus,” she said as he stepped closer and stopping right in front of her.

  “So what is this?” He gestured to her bag on the ground and the way she stood before him.

  She lifted her ringless hand and pressed it over his chest. “Someone gave me some really good advice, and I figured it was time I listened.” She didn’t pull those hazel eyes from his. “I gave him the house.”

  For a minute, he didn’t think he’d heard her right.

  “But you love that house,” Marcus said.

  All she did was shake her head, and the way she was looking up at him held sorrow, passion, and so much more. “It’s just four walls made of wood, Marcus. You told me that. A house can’t make you happy, and I guess I finally realized that holding on to something, even though it was my grandparents’ and had been in my family, wasn’t going to bring me love. It’s just a house, Marcus. I love you more.”

  He stepped closer, resting his hand over hers on his chest. Her other slid up and touched his cheek, running over the scab. “So you’re just giving up, giving the house to Jimmy Roy?”

  She pulled in a breath, licked her lips, and sighed. “No, I’m not giving up, Marcus. I’m choosing to move on. There’s a difference. I spoke with Jimmy, told him he could have the house, but I was done fighting. I want the divorce now. I told him I was sorry and told him to take anything he wanted.”

  He took in the duffle bag at her feet. “So you’re moving in?”

  She slid her arms over his shoulders, and he settled his arms around her, feeling her heat against him. “I am, if that’s all right?” she said softly.

  “You know I don’t care about a house, right? This is all I need, this place here,” he said, wondering if she’d be okay in an old loft that was small and cramped.

  She lifted her lips to meet him halfway, kissing him slow and easy. “Your place is cute, Marcus. As you’ve reminded me how many times, it’s just four walls, and they won’t bring you happiness. You, Marcus, you’ve always made me happy. That day so long ago when I was still with Jimmy and kissed you, do you remember what you said to me after he saw us, after you ate his fist?”

  He just looked at her. He remembered well. He’d said he wasn’t a homewrecker and would never be one. He slid his hand over her cheek, and she rested her hand over his.

  “You were never a homewrecker, Marcus,” she said. “I just never realized how much I really loved you. If I was honest then with myself, I’d have told you. You were never in the wrong. I was, for staying with him. I should have left Jimmy then.”

  He could see she wasn’t going to pretend anymore that this, between them, wasn’t real. He couldn’t help himself from leaning down and kissing her again before pulling back, feeling an ease settle in after what had been a really crappy day.

  “Well, then, let’s get you moved in,” he said, then reached for her duffle bag and unlocked the door that led up to his loft, gesturing for her to go first.

  “Just one more thing, Marcus,” Charlotte added. She turned and faced him again, touching him, running her hand over his chest, a touch that he knew he could get used to every day, every night. “When my divorce is final, I expect you’ll ask me to marry you.”

  He took in the passion in her hazel eyes, the hint of a smile, before she turned and started up the stairs in front of him, and he just took in the curves of the woman he’d loved for a long time.

  “Yes, and I won’t wait a second longer, Charlotte,” he said under his breath. Then he locked the door behind him and started up to his loft, behind the woman he’d started to believe could be his.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sun spilled through the big window overlooking the street. The warm body in bed beside him was that of a woman he’d dreamed of being with for so long, but he’d never believed it would actually happen. Maybe that was why he’d forced the thought from his mind for too many years. Yet there she was now, on her side, softly snoring, a sound that he found mildly amusing.

  He took a second as she slept to take in her round face, perfect lips, narrow nose, and thick dark lashes. She was closer to perfection to him than any woman he’d ever met. The sheet was twisted around her, and he could just make out her creamy white breasts peeking above it.

  He should have felt at peace, considering the night she’d given him, the way she’d undressed him, kissing him, touching him tenderly in a way that surpassed his dreams. With each kiss, each touch, she had slid down on him while he rested his hands on her waist, her hips, the curves he’d always loved. He had guided her the entire time.

  Yet here he was now, so unsettled.

  He should have slept deeply, but the voice of that little girl who had called to him to help her was still haunting him now. He ran his hand over his face, hearing the scrape of whiskers as he felt the knot again in his stomach, thinking of the ordeal the girl had been through. He’d seen worse, but it had been just one of those calls he never wanted to get.

  Charlotte stirred and stretched against him with her softness and heat, and she blinked as a slow smile touched her lips. She reached over and touched him, his chest, his stomach, and lower. He hissed, and what did he do but rest his hand over hers to stop her? Was he out of his mind?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as she pulled back and propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him where he now lay on his back. Her gaze softened as she reached over and traced her fingers over his forehead, his hairline, through his thick dark hair, and he linked his fingers with hers.

  “Eva was looking to me to save her,” he said. “Now look at this mess. I even wrote in the report what she had said, that her mom was scared, they were both scared, but where is she now?”

  He knew, though. She was in a foster home run by an old woman, a home he couldn’t believe social services actually used.

  “It’s not your fault, Marcus,” Charlotte said. “It’s not up to you to fix everything for everyone, even though I know you feel responsible…”

  That was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to hear. He took in the furrow of her brows and grunted as he sat up, swinging his feet onto the cool wooden floor and seeing their clothes in a heap. Charlotte’s duffle bag was still on the chair. She needed to unpack, and he’d have to make room in his drawers.

  She slid her hand over his back, rubbing the ache in his shoulder. She sighed behind him and pressed a kiss to the spot, then rested her chin on it as she slid her arms around him. “You can’t let things go,” she said. “I mean, what do you think you can do for her? You did it all, Marcus. It’s just a shitty thing that happened.” She kissed his shoulder again, her breasts pressing into his back.

  He rested his hand on her arm and rubbed. “I should have pushed it harder, should have demande
d the charges be dropped, for Bert to…”

  “What, Marcus? In case you forgot, there’s nothing you could do. I was there outside when you were still cuffed inside that house. Whatever Lonnie said, we all saw when Reine came out. Sheriff Frank made a decision, and whether you like it or not, whether the sheriff was in the right or not, he ordered that those charges be filed against her. It could’ve gone either way, but you know, pushing the way you did falls under insubordination. You could have been fired. You’ve been a cop long enough to know the one thing you never do is embarrass your fellow officers or the sheriff calling the shots, even if he’s wrong. You won’t win that.”

  It was sobering to realize how right she was. A cop could shoot a man in the back, kick down the door of the wrong house in a police raid and kill an entire family, or abuse a suspect in custody and he wouldn’t get fired, but Marcus pushing the way he was to get Reine Colbert freed was a step too far. Sheriff Frank had filed charges, and so had Lonnie, and both were backed by Bert. To have them dropped would be making them admit they were wrong. Too many egos involved.

  “Doesn’t say much, does it, that it’s easier to toss away a woman and her kid than admit to the public that we made a mistake? Wouldn’t look good, you know.”

  Charlotte didn’t say anything. This kind of thing never had sat right with him. Maybe that was why he did what he did sometimes.

  “They got a raw deal,” he continued. “I saw how terrified Eva was in the house, her voice on the phone. I don’t think I’ll ever forget. She lost her father, and her world was ripped apart then, and now she’s lost her mother, who was doing her best to survive in a system that took everything from them. Even her home and those basic things we have as kids—toys, a room, a bed, family photos, all gone. I don’t know, Charlotte. I can’t just let it sit as it is. It’s not right. Maybe Frank and Lonnie and Bert can sleep at night knowing they’ve destroyed a life, but I sure can’t.”

  He sighed again, and she just held on to him. Her touch should have helped, but he couldn’t shake the image of Reine Colbert in court, in prison garb, handcuffed and being led away as if she were a common criminal. He was just glad Eva hadn’t seen it. He knew his sister had done all she could, considering how screwed up this was.

  “So what are you thinking of doing?” Charlotte said.

  He slid around, settling his hand on her thigh as she curled her legs under her, sitting there naked on his bed with not even a hint of shyness. Her dark hair was a tousled mess, and damn, did she look downright sexy.

  “I want to stop in and check on her, Eva—and Reine too, even though Karen told me to stay away.”

  Charlotte settled her hand on his thigh, touching him. There was something about her that calmed him as she lifted her gaze to him again. “I think that’s a fine idea, Marcus,” she said, and he leaned in and kissed her deeply, then pulled back just a bit. “But first, how about a shower? I’ll make you some breakfast, and then…” She offered a teasing smile and dragged her gaze down, taking in all of him.

  Yeah, he really could get used to this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You sure this is it?”

  Marcus tapped on the door of a small older house just outside the downtown core, in a part of town that was both commercial and residential, between a house that had been busted for drugs just the year before and a two-story house with a pizza takeout restaurant on the main floor. Right, the perfect spot for druggies when they got the munchies and didn’t want to walk too far.

  He kept that thought to himself as he rested his foot on the single concrete stoop and knocked again on the screen door after figuring out the front bell was broken. “Yeah, unfortunately,” he said. “I pulled up the address. She was sent here.”

  Behind him, Charlotte was dressed in her deputy shirt, her dark hair pulled back. His cruiser was parked out front, and he still had his sunglasses on. He heard footsteps over the squeak of the floor inside, and the inside door rattled as a woman pulled it open. She appeared to be in her seventies, short, a little on the plump side, with gray shoulder-length hair.

  “Can I help you, officer?” she said, frowning, as she opened the screen door. She was in a bulky shirt and pants, and her other hand rested on a cane.

  “Are you Rita Halloway?” he said.

  She didn’t smile as she nodded. “Yes, I am. What is this about?”

  “I’m Deputy O’Connell. A little girl by the name of Eva Colbert was brought here last night.”

  “She’s still sleeping, last I checked,” Rita said. She pushed open the door, and Marcus took that as an invitation to step inside. Charlotte followed.

  He heard a TV in the other room and pulled off his sunglasses tucking them in his shirtfront, and he took in the dated kitchen at the front of the house. It was clean, with a cast-iron fry pan on the small white stove and a glass of water on the counter.

  “Ma, who’s here?” said a tall lanky man with light hair and a beard, about his age. He wore jeans and a loose faded T-shirt. “Oh, the cops…”

  Marcus didn’t miss the alarm. That was just something that happened when he showed up, as if people expected him to know everything they were hiding.

  “These deputies are from the sheriff’s office,” Rita said. “They’re here about the little girl dropped off last night. Jay, can you check and see if she’s awake yet?”

  The man glanced over his shoulder to the hall and then started down it without saying anything.

  “Is there a problem, Deputy?” Rita asked. Her voice was deep, husky.

  Marcus stepped into the middle of the kitchen as Rita rested her hands on the counter. He knew Charlotte was right there. He found himself taking in the neat and tidy room. “No, I just wanted to check on Eva and see how she was doing. I was the deputy who took her call last night. It was a traumatic thing for her to go through. Is that your son?” He gestured with his chin.

  Rita hobbled a few steps forward with her cane. “Yes, he’s helping me out here.”

  Marcus hadn’t remembered seeing the man’s name on the list as part of the household, but then, social services didn’t always seem to keep the most accurate records.

  He heard voices and spotted Eva holding Jay’s hand as she walked barefoot toward them, wearing an adult’s T-shirt, her hair a mess, her eyes haunted. He walked over to her and squatted.

  “Hey, Eva, remember me from last night? It’s Deputy O’Connell. I wanted to come on by and check on you and see how you are.”

  Jay was still holding her hand, and she looked up to him and then over to Rita, the foster parent responsible for her. He wondered if she was looking to them for permission.

  “Deputy O’Connell, where is my mommy? Is she with you?”

  He lifted his gaze to Jay and looked pointedly at his hand, holding Eva’s. Jay let it go and walked away, back into the dark living room, lit only by the flat-screen TV.

  “Eva, I told you already, your mommy isn’t coming,” Rita said. “She’s in jail. The police took her. She did a bad thing. That’s why you’re here. She won’t be coming to get you.”

  Marcus dragged his gaze to the woman. In the living room, Jay was now sitting on the sofa in front of the TV. The news was on, and he didn’t miss the fact that the sofa was covered in what looked like bedding, blankets and a pillow.

  Eva’s lip trembled. How could the woman be so cruel?

  “Eva, I know this is a scary thing for you, but I promised you I would see that you’re safe,” Marcus said. “Hey, come on, have a seat here at the table.” He pulled out a chair and lifted her onto it, then pulled out another one. He wondered if she’d had anything to eat. “Are you hungry? Did you get anything last night? How about something now, breakfast?”

  He didn’t have a clue what else to say. He lifted his gaze over to Rita, who seemed to get it, as she reached into a cupboard and pulled out a bowl. Maybe she understood what was expected of her.

  “I’m hungry,” Eva said, and he didn’t miss the tears
in her eyes. “Can I see my mommy?”

  “Hey, listen, I know you want to see your mommy,” he said. “I’ll tell you what. Let me see what I can do, but how about we get you some breakfast first? We’ll see that you get everything you need.”

  Charlotte was watching Rita, who pulled out a box of cheap generic cereal and dumped some in a bowl, followed by skim milk from the fridge. So this was it? He pulled his gaze away, hearing Charlotte saying something about the milk, or maybe the cereal, or maybe something else entirely.

  “You promise you’ll take me to my mommy? I don’t want to stay here,” she said in almost a whisper. He knew well she didn’t want the old woman to hear, and for a minute, he could see how scared she was, in a strange house with strangers. He couldn’t imagine how he’d have felt if he were her. Rita put the bowl of cereal in front of her on the table. Cold and sterile—that was how this seemed to him.

  “There’s your breakfast, Eva. Come on, eat up,” Rita said, then turned toward Marcus. “Don’t start getting it in her head that she’s seeing her mother, because I don’t want to hear about it every hour, every day—and then the crying. Eva, at this point, you won’t be seeing her. Deputy, you should know better.” She walked away back into the kitchen. “Do you want some juice or something, too? Not sure if I have any. Considering the hour you showed up here, I wasn’t prepared…”

  Marcus took in the watery cereal. Not the best breakfast, and it wasn’t lost on him how the woman sounded as if this were in some way Eva’s fault.

  “No juice,” Rita said. “Looks like Jay drank the rest of it. I’ll have to go to the store later and figure out something for dinner. Jay, I need you to head out to the store for some groceries!”

  “Hey, Eva, slide around and eat,” Marcus said, not liking how the old woman was talking.

  Charlotte was standing in the kitchen, her arms crossed, looking around at everything. He knew by her expression that she wasn’t impressed.