Divorced, Desperate and Dead

by Christie Craig

  They hadn’t hit him. Though Danny had come close.

  “I’ll loan him to you,” Reese said, “but he’s taking me out to dinner tonight. Oh, have you gone and been fitted for a tux yet? You and Danny are the only two who haven’t gotten measured. If you haven’t done it by next week, I’m borrowing my hubby’s handcuffs and driving you two down there myself.”

  “I’ll do it. I promise,” he told her.

  “Great.” She gave Turner a squeeze around the waist and moved off.

  Cary saw Turner watch Reese sashay away—watched her in the way a man looked at a women with whom he’d just had really good shower sex. Like he knew he was a lucky bastard.

  But was Turner really lucky? Sure, he seemed happy. Hell, for that matter, so did a few of his other friends who had married women who’d had their own anti-love club. Cary just didn’t think he’d get the luck part of the deal. Yup, he’d just get stuck with the bastard portion.

  Or maybe he questioned his ability to know real love if it bit him on the ass. He’d thought he’d had it with Korine. He had the scars to prove it, too.

  “What’s up?” Turner asked, stepping away from the door to let Cary inside.

  Cary stayed where he was, leaning his weight on the door. “We got problems,” he said, remembering his unexplainable gut feeling that he had to find Chloe.

  “What?”

  “Channel 34 did a show on Chloe Sanders saving that girl, and one of her friends got on camera and told the whole story about me being shot and them thinking the two cases were connected. I went to check on her to make sure she was okay and I spotted J.D. there.”

  “Shit! You got the bastard? Oh, hell, why didn’t you say something?”

  “No. He got away.” Cary remembered the way J.D. had just stood there, as if waiting to get shot. It hadn’t been right, but he didn’t have time to contemplate that now.

  “Have you called it in?”

  “Of course I have. It took place in Hoke’s Bluff. The black and white hadn’t gotten there when I left to come here. I’ve spoken to them, they’ve put a BOLO on J.D.”

  “Why don’t we put a call in to Glencoe PD, too?”

  “I did,” Cary said, feeling the edge of panic. “What I need is to find Chloe Sanders and make sure she’s okay.”

  “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so? She’s okay.” Turner spoke with certainty. “I mean, I’m pretty certain she is.”

  “How . . . do you know?”

  “Because she’s with Danny.”

  “What?” he asked.

  Turner tucked a hand into his jeans. “Chloe is with Danny.”

  Cary shook his head. “I thought you said Danny was . . .” His gut tightened. “Danny’s dating Chloe Sanders?”

  “Yeah,” Turner said.

  Cary remembered Danny saying he was getting laid this weekend. “No.”

  “No, what?” Turner asked.

  “No!” Cary said. “Hell, no!”

  “Hell no, what?” Turner asked again, sounding baffled.

  Cary ran a hand over his face. “Where is he?”

  “What’s wrong?” Turner asked, looking at him oddly.

  “Just friggin’ tell me where he took her!” he said, his patience running thin.

  “Probably to that cheap Italian place on First Street. Why?”

  “He took her to that dive?”

  Turner looked concerned, but answered, “Yeah, you know him. He doesn’t spend a lot until he knows if the girl’s worth it.”

  “She’s not a damn prostitute,” Cary growled.

  Turner’s mouth dropped open. “I didn’t say . . . I’m missing something here. Do you know Chloe Sanders?”

  “What the hell does that matter?” He might have accepted the whole Room Six thing was real, but he wasn’t ready to admit it. Nope. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “It . . . doesn’t.” Turner paused, now looking even more confused. “I’m just trying to make sense of this.”

  “Well, just stop. There’s nothing to make sense of.”

  “I don’t know,” Turner said, confused. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Cary turned to leave. But to do what? What right did he have to barge in on Danny’s date?

  He got back to his car, and when he dropped into the seat, he felt the tape pull off a good three inch strip of hair as the bandage loosened on his leg. And damn, it hurt.

  Then he looked down at his leg. A dark blotch of blood had soaked into his gray sweats. Oh, just friggin’ great.

  He needed to go home.

  Change his bandage.

  Drink a few beers.

  Forget that Danny was getting lucky with a gorgeous brunette angel he’d met in his close encounter with Heaven.

  • • •

  Chloe looked away from Dan’s sexy smile and pretended to need a drink just to pull her hand out from under his . . . again. Either the man was slow at getting hints, or he’d never been turned down before.

  Noting his good looks, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. In her head, she started planning ways of dropping the bomb. It’s me, not you. Wrong time of the month. I suddenly have a migraine. Sorry, I just had an afterlife experience with your partner and he’s the only guy I want crawling on top of me right now.

  The dinner plates had been cleared and they were waiting on the tiramisu. Just one. No way could she eat more than a couple of bites.

  She wanted the date to end.

  Setting her glass of water down, she found him still staring at her. “Red is definitely your color.”

  “Thanks.” She had a feeling she was going to have to spell it out for him, and the sooner the better. Heck, maybe she should offer to pay for the bill. That usually sent the message.

  The waiter showed up and served a huge portion of the sweet concoction. Danny took a spoon and scooped up a big bite, then leaned over and put the utensil to her lips.

  Okay, this was odd. She started to tell him no, but it felt too rude, so she opened her mouth and accepted the offering.

  “She can’t feed herself?” The voice came at her side.

  Mouth full of sugary goo, she looked up. The shock of seeing Cary Stevens there had some of the goo going down her throat and some wanting to spill out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cary had bypassed the hostess asking him if he needed a table, as she’d given him a disdained look. Evidently his bloodstained sweats and gray T-shirt didn’t meet the dress code. He moved into the restaurant, spotted Danny and Chloe, and stopped a few tables away.

  Why was he so pissed?

  He recalled Beatrice Bacon saying they were connected. But that was a crock of shit. He was pissed because . . . because Chloe Sanders didn’t deserve to be “Dannied.”

  He and Turner had coined a name for it. Basically, it meant a woman had been wined, dined, screwed, and dumped. He never kept the same woman for more than three weeks.

  Sure, before Reese, he and Turner had dated their share of women and it never went anywhere. But both of them were cautious as to what type of woman they dated. Women who knew up front and didn’t mind if the relationship never went anywhere. Women like Paula. Women that scratched your itch, but didn’t really care if you were shot or not.

  Just like that, he noted that Chloe wore red. Red like Paula had on earlier. Chloe’s, however, was a much more sedate dress. But it was still red. Red for ready. And Chloe looked hot in it. Maybe Chloe wanted this. ‘This’ being more than her in-house, battery-operated boyfriend.

  And Danny was going to be the lucky bastard to give it to her. Jealousy filled Cary’s chest. Damn it to hell and back. He didn’t do jealousy.

  He’d been about to walk away when Danny scooped up a bite of dessert and held it to her lips. And there, in that one second, he saw hesitation in her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t so ready. And she still didn’t deserve to be Dannied.

  “Cary?” Danny said. “What are you doing here?”

  He didn’t
look at his partner. He was too busy watching Chloe try to swallow. She reached for the napkin in her lap, but it had slipped off and landed on the floor. He knelt down, never mind it hurt his leg, and handed the slip of cloth to her.

  Their fingers met, and he felt it. That magical, emotionally-charged jolt of pure, raw attraction.

  So why the hell had she gone out with Danny?

  She jerked her hand back, napkin in tow, and pressed the dark material to her lips. He stood up.

  “Shit,” Danny continued. “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”

  He saw Chloe’s gaze shift to him and to his leg. Her almond-shaped eyes widened even more with what looked to be concern.

  Concern.

  Oddly, he’d expected to see just a little of that in Paula’s eyes, but nope, not a flicker. Her only concern had been that his dick still worked.

  “I’m fine,” he answered, still staring at Chloe and still unsure what he planned to do or say.

  “Hey,” Danny said, almost as if demanding Cary’s attention. “Is something wrong?”

  He forced his gaze away from Chloe to his partner. “Yeah?”

  “What’s wrong?” Danny’s brow creased in puzzlement, then he glanced back at Chloe, still holding her napkin over her mouth, and still staring at Cary’s leg. “This is Chloe Sanders,” Danny finally said when Cary didn’t answer his prior question.

  “I know,” Cary said.

  “You know?” Danny asked.

  “Yeah.” Cary shifted his weight to his other leg, hoping to alleviate some of the throbbing.

  “You should sit down.” Chloe finally found her voice. “Here, take my seat.” She jumped up.

  “No, I’m fine,” Cary insisted.

  “You’re bleeding. You just had a bullet removed. You’re not fine. Now sit down before you fall down.”

  Why did she remind him of his sisters? “I’m not going to fall,” he said, still shocked at her concern.

  Cary felt Danny watching them. But he was too busy watching Chloe to care.

  “Do you two know each other?” Danny asked.

  Chloe’s big blue eyes blinked.

  “She hasn’t told you?” Cary asked, and he knew that might be a little mean, but so was her going out with his partner.

  Okay, fine. She had every right in the world to go out with anyone she wanted to. It wasn’t as if he had any claims on her, or even wanted any claims on her. But damn, if it didn’t still feel wrong.

  She lifted one hand and put it on her hip—a sign of irritation. He knew, because when his mom and his big sister, Kelly put a hand to their hip, they were pissed. He dropped a palm on his upper thigh above his wound.

  “Tell him what?” she asked and shoved the chair closer to him. “Now sit.”

  “Yeah, tell me what?” Danny asked and cut his gaze back to Chloe, suspicion in his eyes.

  Cary almost laughed at Chloe’s expression. He sat down and picked up the extra spoon on the dessert plate and scooped himself up a bite. “Mmm. This is pretty good.” Then he grinned at Chloe, who was staring down at him with the most beautiful befuddled look.

  “Would you like another bite?” he asked and held up the spoon.

  “No,” she snapped.

  “How do you two know each other?” Danny asked.

  Cary wasn’t sure what possessed him to say it, but the words came out. “We went to college together.”

  Surprise filled her expression. “We did?”

  “Yup.” He took another bite of the dessert. “You said I looked familiar, remember?”

  She frowned.

  Cary smiled.

  Danny leaned forward and snatched the other spoon from the dessert plate. “When did she say you looked familiar?” He took a bite of the dessert.

  “When she came to visit me in the hospital,” Cary said.

  Danny looked from him to Chloe again. “You visited him in the hospital? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Then she dropped her hand from her hip. “Excuse me, I have to run to the ladies’ room.”

  Both he and Danny watched her walk away. Then Danny said, “You are going to explain this, right?”

  Yup, he planned on it, just as soon as he figured it out himself.

  “Is this tiramisu?” Cary asked, scooping up another bite.

  “What the hell is going on?” Danny asked, and dug in for another bite himself.

  “Two things,” Cary answered and went for the easiest one first. “J.D., the kid who shot me and hit her, was hanging out at Chloe’s apartment today.”

  “What? Was he caught? Wait, how does he know—?”

  “No, he got away. I couldn’t run.” He pointed to his leg with the spoon. “Channel 34 did a show on Chloe saving the girl, and someone at her bakery dropped the bomb about our cases being connected. I’m guessing he realizes that Chloe could identify him and wanted to make sure she didn’t testify. But . . .” He remembered how the kid just stood there as he pulled the gun on him.

  “But what?”

  “Something didn’t feel right.” Cary scooped up another bite.

  “What didn’t feel right?”

  “J.D. He didn’t have a gun and he stopped and just faced me. Just stood there for a few seconds like . . . like he almost wanted me to shoot.”

  “Have you called this in?” Danny asked.

  “Of course I have.” Cary took another bite of the dessert and then glanced back toward the bathroom.

  “What’s the other thing?” Danny asked.

  “Huh?” He glanced back at his partner.

  “You said there were two things wrong. And I’m assuming the other thing has something to do with my date and how you two . . . seem to know each other.”

  He stuck the spoon in his mouth to clean off the sweetness and to give himself another second to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he supposed he needed to know what he wanted to say before trying to decipher how to say it.

  He tapped the spoon on the dessert plate while he contemplated. Then he looked up at Danny’s blue eyes. “I’m about to play the friend/partner card.”

  Danny scooped up another bite of coffee flavored dessert and looked over the loaded spoon at Cary. “What card is that?”

  “The ‘walk away’ card.” Cary carved out his own bite with his spoon.

  Danny looked at Cary’s spoon. “I don’t suppose you’re just talking about the dessert?”

  “Nope,” Cary said, and they both slipped the spoonful of dessert into their mouths at the same time.

  “Hmm,” Danny said and after swallowing, he asked, “How serious is it?”

  “It’s not,” Cary said.

  “Then why play the card?”

  “Does it matter?” Cary said, and dropped the spoon.

  “Hell, yeah.” Danny pointed his utensil at Cary. “Just tell me. Have you slept with her? Has she seen you naked?”

  Cary smiled, remembering rolling around on the hospital floor with her. “Naked? Yeah.” Then he remembered finding himself in her bed. He hadn’t slept, but she had. “And yes on sleeping with her.”

  “Do I need to worry?” Danny asked and ran his spoon across the plate.

  “About what?” Cary asked.

  “About you losing your head, talking about love and jumping ship from our club like Turner did?”

  “Please! I think you know me better than that,” Cary said, but even as he said it, he remembered seeing Turner and Reese together, and knowing he didn’t have that. Knowing he missed it. Not that he was going there.

  Danny took the last bite of the dessert and seemed to contemplate. “I tell you what, why don’t we have her choose?”

  “No,” Cary said, thinking that would go over like a fart in church.

  “Why? You scared if she had to choose between the good-looking, well-dressed blonde, and the frumpy, dark-haired guy wearing sweats with a blood stain on them, you won’t do so well?” Danny’s grin
told Cary the guy was teasing.

  “Why don’t you just head out before she gets back?” Cary suggested.

  Danny sighed. “Wouldn’t that kind of piss her off?”

  “I’ll explain it.” Though in truth, he didn’t know how the hell he’d do it.

  Danny pushed the black notebook containing the bill in it over to Cary. “Fine, but if you get the girl, you’re gonna get the bill.”

  Get the girl. Was he going to get the girl? Why was it that the thought sent a wave of pleasure, followed by a bigger wave of trepidation?

  • • •

  Chloe used the restroom and then stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind running in high gear. Why was Cary here? Butterflies did cartwheels around her stomach, sending her emotions scrambling. Excitement, fear, embarrassment.

  Was he going to tell Dan that she’d walked in on him naked?

  Remembering the voicemails on her computer, and needing a good excuse to not return to the table so quickly, she checked to see who’d called.

  Chloe, this is Cary. Cary Stevens. You . . . came up to my room. My hospital room. I was . . . naked. Not that me being naked has anything to do with . . . Shit. Can you call me back ASAP?

  He’d called her. The sound of embarrassment in his voice brought on a smile. Her next intake of air tasted sweeter.

  He remembered her. He had to. Why else would he be calling?

  But what now? What was the protocol? She’d never quite been in this situation. On a date with one guy, when the guy she’d really like to date stopped by.

  She reached in her purse for her lipstick, armed herself with a glossy red, and went to figure it out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  J.D. pulled over on a dead end street in a not-so-good neighborhood. The streetlights were out, so darkness surrounded him. But he could hear some kids down the block playing. Laughing and being kids.