Edge (Gentry Boys #7)

by Cora Brent

  Roslyn’s tears kept falling and that was almost as painful as hearing one of my best friends was dead. He had dropped like an anchor in the middle of the third round of his match, dead before he hit the mat apparently. Kilt didn’t know too much at this point. There was speculation about drugs but that was bullshit because I knew Jackson and I’d bet my right hand he hadn’t done anything harder than vodka in years. The paramedics thought maybe his heart had just given out. It seemed impossible that one minute he was strong and standing and the next, dead and silent. He must not have seen it coming. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

  All of us had always assumed that if we were ever cut down it would be violent. We were wrong. Jackson would likely be dead even if he was a Harvard educated millionaire. There was no such thing as invincibility, not for anyone.

  I put my arm around Roslyn, told my brother I’d call him tomorrow and walked to my car. I had promised Kilt I would return to the hotel soon although there wasn’t much I could do except hug my remaining buddies and see about funeral arrangements.

  There was no one to point fingers at here, no distracting revenge to seek. My friend was dead and that was that. Before I returned to the San Gabriel though I needed to get Roslyn home and tell Emily something that would break her heart in a way I understood all too well.

  When all that was done I could have the luxury of crying.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ROSLYN

  The funeral was brief and horribly sad. As I stood there grieving for someone who was cruelly taken far too soon I kept flashing back to another day, another funeral.

  On the day Erin was buried I cried so hard I vomited in the front seat of my father’s car as we drove away from the cemetery.

  Emily cried like that today. As the last words were said over the closed casket she cried until her legs shook. Conway kept one arm around my waist and one arm around hers, just so she wouldn’t fall.

  There were quite a few mourners present. Stone and Evie. Eli and Kilt. Ranger. Some people I vaguely recognized from the San Gabriel. Some people I’d never seen before. And finally there were a few others who stood behind the mourners and watched with morbid fascination. They were most likely curiosity seekers as the story had received some local press. Local amateur boxer dead in the ring at the age of twenty-three. Apparent heart attack due to an undetected medical condition.

  Emily’s parents had flown in from San Francisco but needed to leave right after the funeral. They pleaded with Emily to come with them but she refused. Emily’s mother was an older reflection of her daughter. She hugged me tightly when I said goodbye and told her I would look after Emily.

  When there were no more mourners to talk to, nothing left to say, and only the wretched task of burial left to fulfill, Conway drove Emily and I back to our apartment. He seemed especially concerned about Emily and kept asking if there was anything he could do. I wished there was. If only someone had invented a cure for a broken heart.

  Banana bread was Emily’s favorite so I whipped up a batch while she sat in the living room with Conway. The television was on and one of the early Harry Potter movies was playing. Even though they were both looking at the screen I doubted either of them actually watched it. I also made a quick pasta salad and stuck it in the fridge, hoping Emily might be hungry later.

  While the bread baked I started cleaning up the kitchen but Conway got off the couch and asked if he could take care of that. I kissed him as we passed each other and he looked so miserable and so weary I didn’t want to let go. Right now Emily needed me even more than Conway did though. She didn’t look over when I sat beside her but as I took her hand she gave me a watery smile.

  “Em? Would you like some tea or something?”

  “Tea,” she said, frowning like she’d forgotten what the word meant. Then she nodded. “Yeah, that might be nice.”

  Conway was wiping the breakfast bar down. I’d already seen him do it twice. Maybe he just needed to keep busy. He shook his head when I asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. Since Jackson’s death four days ago he’d been quiet and grim. I heard him arguing on the phone last night after he thought I was asleep. Conway angrily told the caller to fuck off and that he didn’t have anything left to prove. When he crept back to bed he immediately faced away. I didn’t let him know that I was awake.

  When I brought Emily her tea she took a few sips and then set it on the table, announcing that she was tired. She mumbled something about going to lie down in her bedroom for a while and I told her I’d be right here when she woke up.

  “Poor kid,” Conway muttered as he took a seat beside me on the couch.

  I crossed my legs underneath me. “I’m worried about her. Maybe it would have been a good idea for her to fly to San Francisco with her folks. Her mother asked if I would keep mentioning the idea.”

  Conway shrugged. “You can’t force someone to heal.”

  “No one’s trying to force her to do anything. It’s just so hard seeing someone you care about in pain.”

  He set his elbows on his knees, leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands with a sigh. I rubbed the tense muscles in his back and he relaxed slightly.

  “I should get back,” he said.

  “To the San Gabriel?”

  “Yeah. Kilt took me aside and said he’d heard a rumor about Ranger. I asked him to keep the kid indoors and out of trouble until I could figure out what’s going on.”

  “Trouble? What sort of trouble?”

  “I don’t know, Roslyn. That’s what I need to find out.”

  My hand fell away. He hadn’t spoken sharply, not exactly. It was just the same kind of brick wall he always put up when it came to talking about certain things. We’d been together for several months now, spending almost every minute we could spare with each other. All the cautious roadblocks of early romance should be giving way to a deeper kind of intimacy. In a lot of ways they already had. But Conway still maintained a few stubborn barriers. I was starting to think that if he couldn’t open up to me by this point then there wasn’t much hope that he ever would.

  “Conway. Level with me. What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

  He turned his head and just looked at me. He wouldn’t say anything so I challenged him again.

  “Drugs? Gambling?” My voice was rising so I made an effort to keep it down, dropping my voice to a hissing whisper. “That goddamn street racing that I know you still participate in because you can’t bear to part with the rush you get from it?”

  He scowled. “Why do you want to tackle this shit right now?”

  “Is there a good time? There never seems to be. When I dare to ask you questions you either don’t answer me, you give some shallow, sarcastic response, or you use sex to change the subject.”

  “What’s the subject?”

  “The people you’re involved with. The reason you’re afraid to have me around sometimes. The way you make money.”

  “I can’t change all that overnight, Roslyn. You had to realize that from the beginning.”

  “I’m not asking you for instant change. I just want to be included in your life.”

  “You think I’m not including you? For fuck’s sake, I’m with you every minute I can be. I don’t want or even think about other women.”

  “That’s not the point I was trying to make.” I leaned over and rested my head against his shoulder. “I want to know you.”

  Conway pushed the hair out of my face and kissed the top of my head. “You do know me, baby.”

  “Sometimes I’m afraid when we’re not together because I know there’s this whole other world you’re a part of that I don’t understand.”

  He sighed and dropped his head. “You know why. You’re too good for that world.”

  “It’s still part of you. Con, I had my eyes wide open when we started this and I know you’re no angel. I don’t expect you to tell me absolutely everything. But some disclosure would go a long way. And we never tal
k about the future. Why do we never talk about the future?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Because the future’s not guaranteed, not for anyone.”

  “So what?”

  “So why spend all your energy making plans? Plans that might never come true. Just think, Roslyn. Thinks about events both current and past. Think about all the those fucking pointless plans that never had a chance.”

  “I am thinking. But unlike you, I’m thinking that there’s nothing more depressing than refusing to have hope.”

  Conway looked at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. “I’m here with you now. Today. I don’t want to be with anyone else today. I don’t want to lie down with anyone else today. I don’t want to hold anyone else in my arms or laugh or cry with anyone else today. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It is,” I sighed. “For today. But I’d like to expect that there will be a tomorrow too. I’d like to know that it’s possible to have more than today with you.”

  Conway was silent, unmoving. Finally he heaved a sigh and stood up.

  “Maybe today is all we get,” he said wearily.

  There were things I could have said in response. There were things I could have told him about how I felt and why I was dwelling so much on the future. But just then I felt too miserable to say anything without crying so I folded my hands in my lap and stared stonily at the wall.

  Conway leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I hate leaving right now but I really do have to. I’ll call you later.” He stepped back and looked in the direction of Emily’s room. “Take care of her.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  He touched my face. “Take care of yourself, too.”

  “I will if you will.”

  He managed a small smile. “You’ve got a deal.” He started to head for the door.

  “Conway!” I hadn’t meant to shout. He turned around and looked at me with alarm.

  I love you.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said. It came out like a question.

  Conway nodded. “I promise, honey. I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

  Then he was gone.

  For the rest of the afternoon I kept hearing our conversation in my head. His last words seemed significant, even though he probably hadn’t meant them to be.

  Emily emerged from her bedroom in the early evening. To my relief, she ate a slice of banana bread with a cup of coffee. She still didn’t want to talk much so we just sat on the couch in our pajamas and had a Game of Thrones marathon.

  Even though Conway was on my mind a lot, I wondered if I was just overanalyzing the things we’d said to each other today. There was still a lot we needed to talk about, but today was the wrong time. This week had been so emotional, in more ways than one.

  And at this point Conway Gentry wasn’t the only one who was keeping secrets.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CONWAY

  Eli was already packing his bags. He’d been kind of on the fence about moving in with his ex but Jackson’s death had sealed his decision. He told me he didn’t want to waste his days anymore. He’d found a regular job bartending at a place owned by a local bookie we’ve dealt with in the past. I hadn’t told him that Jackson and I had been planning on opening up a garage together. I hadn’t even told Roslyn. It didn’t matter now anyway.

  I was walking by Eli’s door when he called me in to ask if I wanted anything from his room before he gave it away. Apparently the apartment he was moving to was pretty small and his girlfriend already had all the furniture they needed.

  “When are you leaving?” I asked, taking a seat on a single dining room chair that was totally out of place.

  He sealed a box with packing tape. “Told Jacy I’d be ready to cohabitate by Monday.”

  “Jumping in with both feet, huh?”

  “Damn right. I prepaid six months of rent as an act of good faith.” Eli shoved the box aside and stood up with hands on both hips. “I’ve had enough hustling and random fucking. It’s time to sit up straight and act like a man. Conway, I’ve got two kids and I’ve never spent more than two consecutive days being a dad. I’m lucky as hell that Jacy’s willing to give me another chance to be with her, plus I’ll get to see Annie every day.”

  “What about your other kid?”

  “Dario’s mom is starting to come around. I got all caught up on child support so she’s willing to let me have him every other weekend as long as I’m living in a real place and not a seedy flophouse.”

  “Flophouse? I’ll have you know that the Hotel San Gabriel was once the premier destination for business travelers forced to visit Phoenix in her hellacious pre-air conditioning era.”

  He snorted. “Sounds like you’re quoting one of the travel brochures still hanging down in the lobby.”

  “I am. Well, loosely paraphrasing anyway.”

  Eli sat down on the bed across from me, looking serious and sad all of a sudden. “Seems like losing Jackson has changed the feel of the place anyway. You ought to think about moving on. I’ve seen you with your girl, Con. You’ve been happier these past few months than I can remember you ever being and I’ve known you for a while. She’s the quality type and you shouldn’t fuck this up.”

  “Think I’ll take that end table,” I said airily as I stood up. “If you don’t want it.”

  “It’s yours.” He cocked his head and made a face. “By the way, Kilt did some more investigative work on your little protégé. Apparently the kid used to be one of Fournier’s runners. Whatever he did resulted in some stuff getting dropped off with the wrong people and it cost Fournier some pocket change. That shouldn’t have been enough to inflict pain, but you know Fournier. Kid was on the run when you found him dumpster diving. He should have had sense enough to leave the damn city.”

  “Fournier, huh?”

  I didn’t like the news. Fournier was a petty dealer who also dabbled in prostitution and underground casinos but he had an appetite for blood and rarely turned down an excuse to satisfy it.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said.

  Eli eyed me. “You’ll take care of it, huh?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Why do you care so much?” he asked curiously. “About the kid I mean.”

  “I like to switch things up and hand out a few breaks here and there.”

  “Seems like a flimsy reason to risk your own neck.”

  “Maybe but don’t worry about it. Fournier’s just trying to save face. I’ll dangle a few dollar bills in front of his ugly nose and promise he won’t have to see the kid again. He’ll go for it.”

  Eli sighed. “Whatever you say, Con.”

  When I got back to my own room I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had set in during my talk with Eli. Actually the feeling hadn’t left since the night Jackson died but it flared up sometimes more than others. It wasn’t due to learning the details of Ranger’s troubles. When I told Eli I was sure that wouldn’t become a problem I felt confident I was right. But I kept thinking about what he’d said about me and Roslyn.

  “Why do we never talk about the future?”

  She’d asked the question with such resignation, like she believed the idea of a future with her had never even crossed my mind.

  Why would she think otherwise though?

  I had a hard time giving voice to all the crazy, romantic thoughts that whirled around my head when I was with her. If I deserved to have a future then of course I wanted to spend it with her. As I thought about the way her eyes would have softened if I just would have said that out loud I cringed a little.

  Instead, everything I did say had come out all wrong.

  “You sit on a tack or something?” Kilt joked from the doorway. He tried to smile as I waved him in but I could tell the big guy’s eyes were still all red. He’d taken Jackson’s death as hard as any of us had. In fact it kind of seemed like the best and most important piece of our friendship circle had been stolen.

  “You know
,” he said, “I keep expecting to see him around here, just turning the corner when I walk down the hall.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  In fact when I’d returned to the San Gabriel this afternoon I felt like bawling, as if I hadn’t seen and done and enough of that at Jackson’s funeral. Actually I did end up crying again. I just waited until I was in the stairwell and took the six flights slowly so there was time to get it all out before facing the guys.

  “You holding up?” Kilt asked.

  “I guess.”

  “What are we gonna do with all of his stuff?”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t been able to locate his blood family and he didn’t think much of them anyway. I guess when his girl is ready to talk about it I’ll leave it up to her.”

  Kilt bobbed his head like he approved. “Emily, right? Hope she’s doing okay. She didn’t look so good at the funeral.”

  The memory of Emily’s tragic face, her endless tears, made me grimace. “She’s crushed, Kilt. She loved him. That’s tough to bounce back from. In fact some people would argue that you can’t ever be the same after losing someone you’re in love with.”

  Kilt gave me a penetrating look. “You know a thing or two about that, don’t you, Con?”

  I sighed. “It was a long time ago for me, but yeah, I can guess how Emily feels today. I can also guess that she won’t feel much better tomorrow but after a while all that hurt will become a raw ache instead of a sharp pain.”

  Kilt hung around and we talked for a little while longer. He was planning on getting out of here within the next few weeks. I was really going to miss this big red-bearded fool. When I told him so he cracked a grin and told me I was welcome to visit Backwater, Montana anytime the desire struck me.

  After Kilt was gone the room seemed unnaturally empty. Earlier I had promised Roslyn that I would return to her as soon as possible. The thought of her sweet smile and warm body stirred a deep longing inside of me. We hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours and already I missed her passionately. With all the grief of the past few days the only solace I could find was in her arms. In fact I was starting to think that from now on I might not be able to feel whole again without her. That was not a feeling I ever expected to have again. Roslyn had changed something fundamental and there was no changing it back.