by Anne McClane
“Who talks like that?” she said, the automatic, movie-quote response. “Chump, I need to get home,” she continued.
“Do you need company?” he asked.
“No, I’ll be good. The beast will protect me. Plus he’s probably wondering where I am,” she said. “But I will accept an escort to my car.”
“You shouldn’t call your new boyfriend that,” Jimmy said, needling her as he grabbed his phone.
“He’s not my boyfriend! And I meant Ambrose, Chump.”
Jimmy tilted his head at his sister and shook it slowly.
“Really? Okay, glad we cleared that up,” he said.
“Shut up,” she said, shaking her head in return. “Will you just get me to my car already?”
28
Safely in her car and almost home, Lacey was taken by surprise by the phone call. There was something unfinished between her and Nathan, she knew, and she had checked her phone at every stoplight for a text.
A text would have been some punctuation on a dramatic evening. A period. Nathan chose an exclamation point.
“Very clever,” he said, his voice echoing through the car’s speakers.
“What are you talking about?” Lacey said.
“You hear about my connection to Cat Ballou, but you don’t think to mention that your brother is in one of the hottest bands around?” Feedback interspersed his words.
“I don’t like to hang on my brother’s coattails,” Lacey said.
“If you were trying to make it as a musician, I could see how that might be valid,” he said.
“What do you want, Nathan?”
He wasted no time. “Will you meet me for a drink?” he asked.
“No,” Lacey said. “I don’t want to go anyplace that would still be open at two a.m. And I think you should go get your head checked out,” she added.
Nathan laughed. “In more ways than one, probably. But no.”
“I’m concerned you might have a concussion,” Lacey said. “You were passed out.”
“I’m not up to dealing with the graveyard shift of the ER,” he said. “What do you have at your house? Can you make me a drink?”
“Wow. That’s bold,” she said.
“Please?”
She knew she did not want to be alone. And the thought of having Nathan Quirk back at her house thrilled her. She hated herself for it.
“Yeah. Okay,” she said with a good dose of resignation. “Do you remember where it is?”
“I remember. See you soon.”
Silence filled her car after he hung up. She could feel the blood rushing through her head.
She was only a few minutes from home, and started running through a mental checklist. It had been a long time since she’d had a visitor. Angele and her parents didn’t count. And neither did the first time with Nathan. That had been out of need, not invitation.
She pulled into the driveway and saw Ambrose’s giant form rise in the lit window. He will need to go out, and stay out, she thought. He couldn’t have the run of the house tonight. Luckily, everything was clean.
As she put the key in the front door and heard the jangling dog collar, she stopped herself. No more checklist. She hadn’t issued an invitation to her house; Nathan had invited himself. Her house, and her dog, were the way they were going to be.
She greeted Ambrose, patting him down and checking him over. He stood, poised and stoic. She realized how much she would want him nearby when Nathan came calling.
As she emptied her pockets, the evening’s trauma came crashing back in on her. There was the bullet she had magically drawn from Helga’s leg, and her money and ID, wet and red with blood.
“Oh, Jesus.”
Ambrose followed her to the guest bathroom and stood watch outside the open door. The mirror confirmed her fears. The hair on the right side of her head was matted with dried blood, the eye below it was swollen. She touched her head and could feel a bump.
I can’t believe no one said anything to me, she thought.
She opened the faucet and washed her face and worked the blood out of her hair. She grabbed a wide cloth headband, which could do double duty by pulling her hair back and serving as a bandage. She tentatively touched her swollen eyelid, and tried to will her fiery feeling to work on herself. She closed her eyes. She felt foolish—and vain—for trying to heal herself. Her fingertips tingled.
Ambrose rushed away when the knock on the door came. Lacey grabbed some mouthwash, took a swig from the bottle, and gave herself one last check in the mirror. “I’ll be damned,” she said. Her eye, though still swollen, seemed less so. She left the bathroom, but froze five feet from the front door.
I don’t want this, she thought.
There was another knock, and Ambrose answered with a single bark.
I don’t know what I want, she rethought, and resumed her way toward the door.
“Stay,” she said to Ambrose.
She opened the door to find Nathan holding a daisy. He had pulled it from her garden.
“Good evening, ma’am. May I come in?” he asked.
She cocked her head at him. “You’re not a vampire, are you? Asking for permission to cross my threshold?” She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.
“I’m no vampire,” he said, laughing. “But…”
Ambrose growled. Lacey took the daisy from Nathan and locked the door behind him.
“Ambrose!” she scolded, inwardly praising him. “You remember Nathan. Greet Nathan.”
He quit growling and blew air out his nose. He held up a giant paw. Nathan leaned over to shake the dog’s paw. He winced as he straightened up.
“What is it?” Lacey asked.
“Nothing. Just seeing stars.”
Lacey shook her head. “This is not smart. You probably have a concussion, and I’m covered in blood. And we just saw a man get killed, for Christ’s sake.”
Nathan stood and stared, anchored to the floor. “Would you rather be alone?”
Lacey shut her mouth. She shook her head again, slowly. “It’s too much,” she said.
“Yes,” he answered. “It is. All of it. And I don’t want to be alone either. I want to be with someone I trust.”
Lacey felt too vulnerable, and Ambrose sensed it. She shot laser eyes at him to keep him from growling again.
“Why don’t we have that drink, then,” she said, walking away. “Do you drink bourbon?”
“I prefer scotch,” he said.
From the wet bar, Lacey blew the dust off a bottle of Glenfiddich 15. She held it up behind her and asked, “Is this okay? I don’t know scotch.”
She turned around when Nathan didn’t answer. He was still anchored to the same spot by the door, facing Ambrose.
“Ambrose! Go to bed,” Lacey said. The dog let out another massive sigh and retired to his bed in the corner.
Nathan still didn’t move.
“It’s fine, Nathan, he’s not going to hurt you,” Lacey said.
“It’s not that,” he answered, staring at Lacey.
He finally took a few steps forward and asked, “Did the house come with that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Was the bar that way when you bought the house, or did you have it put in?”
“Oh,” Lacey said. Her mind drifted to negotiations with Fox over the wet bar. He’d eventually won her over with unfulfilled promises of elegant dinner parties with witty and charming friends.
“It was put in,” she answered in a low voice. She pivoted, looking for tangible signs of Fox that might have caught Nathan’s attention. She found none.
She held up the bottle of scotch again. “Are you okay with this?”
“Definitely,” he answered, released from whatever spell he had been under. “That’s a good scotch.”
She rinsed out two rocks glasses in the sink and dried them off before opening the ice maker. “Ice?” she asked.
Nathan leaned back against the edge of the s
ofa, arms folded. “No thanks.”
She shut the ice maker. They were both neat.
She handed him his drink before pouring herself a half inch of Blanton’s. Nathan moved closer.
“It’s almost like a shrine,” he said, running a finger along the dark granite countertop and eyeing the well-stocked shelves.
“Don’t say that,” Lacey said.
“Why not?” Nathan asked. “Am I in Gone But Not Forgotten territory?”
Lacey preferred the petrified Nathan to this version. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Fox.
“Yes,” she answered curtly. “We bought this house together, and the wet bar was his idea. But now he’s gone, and it’s mine. Why are we talking about this? Who was that guy?”
“What guy?” Nathan asked.
“The dead guy,” Lacey said. “The one who tried to kidnap you.”
“Jesus,” Nathan said, stepping back. “I don’t know who he was.” He set his drink on an end table and ran the palms of his hands across the sides of his head.
“What did he say to you?”
“Not much,” Nathan said. “He got up really close to me at the bar and said he had something to tell me about my kids. Then he pressed a gun hard against my side and told me to walk to the exit.”
“Did he use their names?” Lacey asked.
“Yes.”
“Shit,” Lacey said. “I’m sorry. Have you… I mean, are they okay?” She was unable to express herself clearly about his family.
“They’re fine. They were asleep when I talked to Lisa.”
“Oh,” Lacey said. Her stomach cramped. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard his wife’s name before. “Did you tell her what happened?” Lacey asked.
“No,” he said. “I pretended to be drunk and emotional and got her to assure me that the kids were safe.”
“Oh,” Lacey said. She thought of his “someone I trust” remark and her stomach tightened more.
“You know, that one guy was the same,” Nathan said. “The driver. Except he wasn’t driving the last time.”
“The last time?” Lacey asked.
Nathan looked at her square and almost smiled. “Yeah, the last time I almost got killed until you came to my rescue.”
“Oh.”
“He was the one who wouldn’t shut up, the time before. This time, he was still saying a lot, just not as loud.”
Lacey nodded. “He was saying something I couldn’t hear when I got to the car. I thought he was a junkie. Or at least he kinda seemed like he might be on something.” She thought “junkie” sounded too judgmental. Or maybe outdated.
“I have no doubt,” Nathan said.
Lacey thought back to their unfinished conversation at the coffee shop. She’d been so preoccupied with her own “whys” that she hadn’t considered Nathan’s. She felt foolish and self-absorbed.
“What dark secret are you harboring, Nathan?” she asked. “Why are these people after you?”
Nathan finished his scotch in one long swallow. “Would you mind?” he asked as he reached for the bottle behind her.
“Go ahead,” she said, stepping aside.
Now face to face with her, he asked, “Did you know Gone But Not Forgotten’s family?”
“Yes,” she said. “Why is that— ”
He cut her off. “Can you imagine how there could be someone so obsessed with him, and so disappointed in his choice of you, that they would rather make you disappear?” he said. There was an intensity to his look that belied his casual tone.
“Is that it?” Lacey asked. “You think someone in Li— your wife’s…family wants to kill you?”
Nathan shrugged.
“Well that’s… God, that’s awful,” Lacey said, realizing anything she could say would sound like understatement. “When you work for…”
Nathan set his drink down and nodded.
“Oh,” Lacey said.
His own father-in-law is trying to kill him. The words sounded surreal in her head.
“You can see how that might put some additional strain on an already taxed marriage,” he said.
“I don’t know what I can say, Nathan,” Lacey said.
“Maybe we should quit talking, then.”
Nathan braced his hand on the counter next to his drink. He positioned himself like a guard between the couch and the bar, blocking her passage. He stared at her.
The knots in Lacey’s stomach tightened. She looked down to avert his stare, and saw her legs and feet streaked with blood.
“I really need to take a shower,” she said, her voice cracking. “I feel like I’m tracking blood everywhere.”
He nodded. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“You’re blocking my way to the bathroom.”
He stepped aside, silent, never taking his eyes off her.
“Thank you,” she said, eyes still cast down. “Make yourself at home. I’ll only be about ten minutes.”
Lacey’s head was buzzing. She wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop. She stared at the dark stone tile floor of the master bath as she dropped her clothes.
She opened the faucet and water sparked from the rain showerhead. She spread her arms and still didn’t touch the walls of the shower. She tried to make her mind empty, letting the water wash off all thoughts, all experiences. She looked down and saw water, streaked with red, circling the drain.
She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Nathan stood in the open doorway. He walked toward the shower and set his scotch on the sink counter.
Lacey thought of trying to cover herself, but stood, motionless, under the water. She was transfixed by the color of his eyes. They were hazel with flecks of green. How could they stand out so much through the spray of the shower? Had she even noticed them before? She looked down again, to break the spell, and saw that he was barefoot. Where had he left his shoes?
He must have read her thoughts. “You said make yourself at home,” he said.
Lacey raised her hand to turn off the water.
“Don’t,” he said. He walked into the shower, shirt and shorts still on. Lacey noticed then that his belt was gone too.
“What are you doing?” Lacey said, laughing.
Nathan did not laugh, his expression solemn. He touched her face, above her hurt eye.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
She knew he wasn’t asking about her injury.
Lacey knew all the reasons it wasn’t okay. She tried to summon just one of them, some incontrovertible truth she could hold in front of her like a solid granite rock that would block the path they were headed down. But all she felt was water drops on her skin, and a needful impulse, and the only truth available to her was her response: “Yes.”
He closed the short distance between them the instant the word was spoken. His lips met hers, tender at first, then the pressure intensified as he began to envelop her. Something flamed inside Lacey, her pilot light ignited. His hands slid down past the small of her back. A sigh escaped her throat and she removed his shirt, now thoroughly soaked. A heavy slap sounded as she threw it to the shower floor.
He answered with his own firm slap, square on her buttocks. Lacey gasped and ran her hands over his chest and torso. A new sensation arced through her as she sensed the power and strength beneath his hard body. She marveled at how Nathan could be ten years older but have a body ten years younger than Fox’s.
Her finger traced the line of light fur that angled down to his navel, and she passed her hands over the centerline of his shorts. She could feel him, already hard, swell even more underneath.
“Take them off,” he said into her ear, his teeth brushing her lobe.
She obeyed, unfastening the button and the zipper, and placed her hands on either side of him. She slid both shorts and boxers past his hips. Out of habit nearly forgotten, she moved down to put her mouth on him as he stepped out of his shorts and kicked them behind him.
“No,” he said. He put a finger under her chin
and led her back up to her full height. He kissed her, gently again, then less so. He pulled back slightly and smiled. “Me first.”
He moved down, stopping to flick his tongue over the nipple of her left breast. Her sense left her. He moved to her other side, his hand replacing his mouth. The pressure of his hand sent surges through her body. Her head reared back.
It was only a prelude to the feeling to come, as he moved to his knees. With the water running down her, and then over Nathan’s head and down his back, his tongue explored her. Lacey made a sound she didn’t think she had ever made before. He brought her to the brink, and then pushed her over it. She braced her hands behind her, fingers slippery against the wall of the shower.
He stopped and stood up, leaving Lacey panting. She kissed him and he pulled her close, his hand holding her head against his chest. She felt some sense return, at the same time she felt him hard against her.
Nathan pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. He had a melancholy sweetness that melted Lacey’s last ounce of steel.
“I want you,” he said.
“I know,” she said with a laugh. “Uh, I’ve been out of the game for a while,” she said, questioning whether she had ever really been in it. “I don’t think I have any kind of protection around here.”
She knew she didn’t. She had thrown out every last stashed condom she’d found after Fox had died.
“I’m fixed,” he said, his voice revealing a sense of urgency.
“Oh,” Lacey said, unsure.
“Seven years ago, after my second was born,” he said. “I’ve only had one partner for the last fifteen years,” he added. His mouth moved to her neck.
What reason do I have to believe him? she thought.
His teeth grazed her ear. The slight prick of pain convinced her.
I’ve trusted him this far.
He felt her relent, and he lifted her up onto him, without any obvious effort. She wrapped her legs around him, her back against the cool, wet wall. She felt the crush of wet body to her front and stone wall to her back. And then, in an instant, she felt Nathan inside her.
“Oh, fuck me,” Lacey said. Her voice fell off.