Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  She sat in a lounger, and Randy jumped onto her belly, circled and lay down, his ears perked up, his eyes on her cookie. Absently, she broke off a piece and fed him. She’d picked a perfect spot to relax. The river flowing by in front of her, an occasional boat motoring past. A breeze kept flies and mosquitoes away. She caught sight of a heron, several catfish and bass in the clear river, and some box turtles sunning on a log.

  When she heard Billy’s voice, she looked around for him, confused because the sound drifted to her from the water. But she had a clear view of the river and didn’t see him. Her gaze veered to a shed at the property’s edge.

  Suspecting he was on the phone, she brushed Randy off her lap, stood, and strolled over. But before she saw Billy, she heard several other voices—dark, secretive voices—and refrained from calling out. What was going on?

  She couldn’t make out the conversation, but Billy’s tone revealed he was playing it cool to cover uneasiness. Before Lia could decide whether to approach or turn around and pretend she’d never been there, Billy and two other guys walked around the shed.

  Both guys were older than Billy, and she’d never seen them before. One looked like he could have played defense for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. He had a massive chest, powerful biceps, and he was at least six foot five. The shorter guy was darker skinned, Hispanic, with tattoos that rippled over the skinny arms that hung out of his khaki army vest. Around his neck, he wore a multitude of gold chains, and when he saw her and frowned, his front tooth showed off a gold cap.

  “Hi,” Lia said, trying to stay cool. Randy barked, and she scooped him into her arms. The dog stopped barking but continued to quiver.

  “What are you doing here?” The gold-toothed guy sneered at Lia.

  “Looking for Billy. What are you doing here?”

  “Business.”

  She stared at Billy, her stomach knotting. He was sixteen. He had a part-time job at the local convenience store, but if this was business, it was bad business.

  Billy jammed his hands into his front pockets, a sure sign he was uneasy. “It’s okay, Lia.”

  “Two days. If you want your collateral back, you’ve got two days,” the big guy said in a threatening tone, then both strangers headed up the side yard to where they’d parked their car, started it, and left.

  Lia put Randy back down and handed Billy a cookie. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What collateral? Did those guys loan you money?”

  “It’s nothing. Really.”

  She sighed. “It didn’t sound like nothing. And what’s with the two-day deadline?”

  Billy didn’t meet her gaze. “You don’t want to know.”

  “You don’t want to tell me,” she countered, hurt and confused. It seemed everyone had secrets these days. Kaylin tried so hard to protect Lia, pretending their financial situation was stable. And Becca, Becca was so into Shadee that she rarely talked to Lia, either. Mitzy still wasn’t herself, and they had to tiptoe around her. If Billy shut her out, she wouldn’t have anyone. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “You won’t like it.”

  “So. That doesn’t mean I won’t hang with you anymore.”

  Billy finished the cookie, ambled to the dock, and picked up several stones. He tossed them toward the river, skipping them across the surface. “I needed money for weed, so I got some extra to cover my expenses.”

  “You’re dealing?”

  “No.”

  “Come on.”

  Billy rubbed his forehead. “The weed was in the house, in the back of my closet. The intruders stole my stash, and now I have to pay—not just for mine but for the three ounces I was going to sell.”

  “I’ve got a hundred and fifty dollars saved. You can have it,” she offered.

  “I owe twelve hundred.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He wasn’t. “It goes for three hundred an ounce.”

  “Twelve hundred dollars?” It might as well have been a million. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she bit her bottom lip. “What happens if you can’t pay?”

  “Nothing good.” Billy’s voice trembled.

  Lia pictured that big dude. And the other guy had had mean eyes. In a fight, Billy wouldn’t stand a chance. “Maybe you should go to the cops?”

  “Then I’d be dead. Those guys are the delivery boys.”

  “Huh?”

  “They deliver the message from the boss.”

  “Then you have to tell your mom.”

  Billy shook his head. “She doesn’t have any money. And before you suggest telling Kaylin, we can’t. If she finds out, she’ll kick me and Mom out.”

  Lia sat on the dock’s edge and stared into the river. “This sucks. What are we going to do?”

  “You are staying out of it.”

  Lia glanced at Billy. He had a hard look in his eyes. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Sorry. I told you you didn’t want to know.” Billy was silent a long while. “As far as I can see, I only have one option.”

  “What’s that?” Her hopes didn’t rise, not even a little. She knew that whatever he came up with would be bad news.

  “I’ll work off the debt.”

  “How? It’ll take weeks at the convenience store, and they said you had—”

  “Two days. But I know another supplier. If he’ll front me some good stuff and I work fast, I can earn the difference. At least make a serious down payment.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I’ll be gone a lot. Will you cover for me?”

  Lia sighed. “Don’t I always?”

  19

  “HEY, SHADEE.” Becca had phoned him right after Lia left the room. Knowing guys didn’t like girls who clung, she made her voice easy-breezy. “I can’t make it tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  Shadee didn’t sound the least bit upset or disappointed, almost as if he didn’t care if he and Becca got together or not. He didn’t even ask why, and that worried her.

  “Is this a bad time?” she asked and could have sworn she heard giggling in the background. Female giggling.

  “Hold on a sec.” Shadee’s voice was muffled, as if he held the receiver with his shoulder and his hands were busy. But busy with what? Was he with someone else? Doing to her what he did with Becca? “Stop it,” he hissed.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry. Wasn’t talking to you.”

  So he was with someone, and Becca fumed. They hadn’t discussed exclusivity. Still . . . if he was cheating on her already, she should hang up and lose his number for good.

  Memories of how good they were together made her eyes tear up. She’d miss him. She’d thought he might be the one, the one who would change her life. Had she gone too fast for him? He seemed so Americanized, but his culture could be different. God. Making love had seemed so right when they were together, but now that she thought about it, Shadee never talked much. Had she made the wrong assumption that he’d liked her as much as she did him? Was he ashamed of what they’d done? No. He’d been just as ready to make love as she’d been.

  “Still there?” he asked.

  “Yes.” But she wasn’t sure why she was hanging on. She wasn’t a loser. She deserved better. Certain that whatever he said next would be a lie, she slumped onto the bed and squeezed her eyes tight to hold back tears.

  She would not cry.

  She wasn’t a wimp.

  She was too smart to let him treat her badly.

  “I’m going to be busy for a few days,” Shadee came back on the line.

  “Really?”

  “My cousin’s visiting, and my brother Tariq and I have to show her around.”

  His cousin? Yeah, right.

 
“She wants us to take her to the beach.”

  “The beach?” She felt like a parrot, repeating what he said, but she couldn’t help but feel down. He was ditching her to spend time with another girl. She wouldn’t be human if she wasn’t hurt.

  “I was thinking about Clearwater Beach. Want to come?”

  Had Shadee just invited her to go, too? She’d been trying so hard not to cry into the phone that she wasn’t certain. But as usual, she’d assumed the worst. No wonder her last boyfriend had told her to lighten up. In truth, she couldn’t. Becca wasn’t made that way. When she loved, she loved with her whole heart, or what was left of it, since it had been broken a bunch of times.

  “Sorry, Randy barked, and I couldn’t hear you,” she fibbed. “Did you say Clearwater Beach? When?”

  “This weekend.”

  Relief poured through her. Shadee wasn’t dumping her or lying. The other girl had to be his cousin. If he’d wanted to be with someone else, he wouldn’t have invited her along. She was an idiot. But after her last fiasco with Anthony, who’d cheated on her twice, then told her she was insecure, Becca was no longer certain she was a good judge of men. Especially men as good-looking as Shadee. Something about the guy had gotten to her in a real short time.

  She wanted to go with him. “Kaylin’s got me looking after Lia, but maybe I can break away.”

  “If you can swing it, that would be wonderful. I don’t know a damn thing about five-year-olds.”

  Sheesh. She’d been jealous of a five-year-old? Mortified, Becca said goodbye and put down the phone. She really had to find some backbone and some self-esteem. Kaylin would see the beach outing as an opportunity to win Tariq over. Why couldn’t she be more like her? Her sister always seemed to know exactly what to do and where she was going. And Kaylin had determination. Once she picked a goal, she stuck to it. Becca never seemed to have a goal. Just desires. Unfulfilled desires.

  But Shadee wanted her . . . and that was what mattered.

  “I THOUGHT YOU said we’re going to Orlando?” Sawyer eyed Kaylin as she pulled into the bank. Touchy after their argument, she’d driven in silence for a while. No longer sure of her mood, he nevertheless was pleased. He liked being around Kaylin. She smelled good, like fresh citrus, and she looked good, with her crisp white shirt and dark brown slacks.

  “We’re still heading to Orlando. But Mr. Lansky gave me a key to Dad’s safe deposit box, and I wanted to see what’s inside first.”

  “If you’re hoping your father left the formula in his safe deposit box, it’s very unlikely.”

  “How do you know?” Smoothly, she pulled into a parking space and placed a sun screen in the window to protect her dash in the Florida sunshine. She checked her hair in the rearview mirror and smoothed the gloss on her lips with her pinky, almost as if she didn’t want to look at him. She’d composed herself and withdrawn, putting up that barrier she kept between herself and the world.

  But after those kisses, he could never let her go back to treating him as a business acquaintance, not and respect himself in the morning. He’d always suspected Kaylin hid a passionate nature, and then he’d seen her dance and known for certain she had unexplored depths. He’d never forget the way she moved, silkily, sensuously.

  And Sawyer could be both friend and lover. He saw no conflict there. Nor did he intend to back off just because she preferred it. If she hadn’t been attracted to him, she wouldn’t have kissed him. He could work with attraction. She’d left him operating room. While he’d give her time to think about his interest in her, he had no intention of holding back for long. Sawyer had punctured her defenses, and now that he knew it could be done, he enjoyed the idea of doing so again. And again.

  Still, her determination and energy intrigued him most. This woman wouldn’t give up or give in.

  As she parked, Sawyer unclipped his seat belt. “Henry adjusted that formula daily. And I made his monthly deposit for him before I left town.”

  “You’re probably right.” Kaylin exited the vehicle and locked the car, her heels clicking as she strode across the parking lot. “But we still need to check.”

  Sawyer opened the bank’s door for her and noted several men inside turning their heads to appreciate her walk. The angle of her head, her graceful neck, her dancer’s body didn’t just say I’m fit, but I’m self-assured. Sexy. But now that he’d insisted on coming along, he didn’t want to crowd her. “You want me to wait in the lobby?”

  She hesitated, then looked him in the eye. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind the moral support.”

  She acted as if she were reluctant to open the box, more averse than excited. Yet, she quickly signed her name at the front desk.

  “You don’t have to do this now.” He took her hand in his, not surprised to find it icy, wishing she didn’t always have to force herself to do unpleasant things. Kaylin was young to take on the responsibilities of her entire family, yet she shouldered them with a courage he admired. But he couldn’t help wishing she’d let him share more of the burden.

  She squeezed his hand and pulled back, giving mixed signals. “I need to get it over with.”

  “Maybe Henry left you a stack of cash, bonds, or stock certificates,” he teased.

  “We’ll see.”

  He’d expected a smart comeback. Instead, she lifted her chin as if fighting an inner battle.

  “Kaylin Danner.” A bank employee checked Kaylin’s driver’s license against the bank’s records, pulled up a signature card on file, and asked for the box number. Apparently, Kaylin had always had access to her father’s box. The clerk led them past an open vault door into a medium-sized, windowless, gray room with metal boxes of various sizes lined against the walls.

  Sawyer followed Kaylin to the far right corner. The clerk inserted Kaylin’s key along with a master bank key and withdrew the box. He gestured to a door. “There’s a private cubicle there. Just let me know when you’re done.”

  “Thanks.” Kaylin compressed her lips, and her hands shook, but she marched toward the cubicle without hesitation.

  “What are you so worried about?” Sawyer asked. In her place he would have been really curious. But she obviously dreaded this as if she expected bad news. Perhaps the loss of her father was too recent, too painful for her to feel anything else.

  “I . . . don’t . . . know. But do you ever have that pit-of-your-stomach feeling that something is about to upset your life?”

  “Chemical engineers aren’t known for their intuition or sensitivity,” Sawyer joked, but she didn’t grin. If anything, she’d paled a little more. He shooed her into the cubicle. “Maybe you should just open it.”

  She placed the box on the counter and shoved it toward him, the metal squeaking. “You do it.”

  “You sure?”

  She grabbed it back. “No. I’ll do it.” She tugged the box closer, snapped open the lock and tipped back the top. She acted as if she half expected to see a bomb in there. Instead, there was an innocent-looking cardboard box with a rubber band around it sitting on top of several ordinary-looking envelopes.

  She reached for the box first. Fingers trembling slightly, she fumbled and opened it. A gold wedding band and a string of pearls gleamed in the light. As if familiar with the items, Kaylin snapped the box shut and set it aside. Next, she opened the envelope. This one held an assortment of documents: Henry’s passport, birth certificates for him and the girls, a marriage certificate, her mother’s obituary, and the deed to the family property. Henry had also saved a crayoned Father’s Day card from the girls.

  Kaylin’s drawn expression curled into a tiny smile. “I remember us making this and giving it to Dad. He raced around the kitchen table kissing each of us, acting as if we’d bought him a new car.”

  “He thought the world of you girls. I used to be jealous of that,” he admitted.

 
“You? You saw him more than we did.”

  “But you were family.” He shrugged and said no more. Gran had done her best, taking him in, keeping a roof over his head, but she wasn’t the motherly type. She had her gardening club, her stained glass projects, and her widowed friends. He’d spent a lot of his childhood alone. Henry had been . . . a substitute father. A partner. A friend. But Sawyer had always been an outsider to the Danners’ family life.

  Next, Kaylin opened a manila envelope and drew out yet another official document, this one with the pages yellowed, the edges frayed and curling. “This looks like an old will. It’s dated before my sisters were born.”

  “His new will supersedes that one, but I wonder why he kept it all these years?” Sawyer saw white paper sticking out of the envelope. “What’s that?”

  Kaylin turned the envelope upside down, and a picture of a woman fluttered out. She looked enough like Kaylin to be her sister. The red highlights in the woman’s chestnut hair and her wide eyes weren’t the only clues to her identity. She was dressed in a tie-dyed T-shirt, short-shorts, and sandals. “Your mother?”

  “I’ve never seen this picture.” She flipped over the old Polaroid and read the back. “Thanks for setting me straight. Love, Quinn.”

  “Who’s Quinn?” Sawyer asked.

  “Uncle Quinn was my Dad’s best friend.”

  Henry’s best friend? “I’ve never met him.”

  “Funny, I haven’t thought about him in years. But when I was a kid, he was around a lot. He gave me a silver locket for my seventh birthday, and I still have it—or I do if the thieves didn’t steal it.”

  Why hadn’t Henry ever mentioned him? “Did he move away?”

  Kaylin frowned. “I don’t know. He was like part of the family, and then . . . he was gone.”

  “Did he die?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so. My parents never spoke about him. I asked Mom about him once, and she just shook her head and refused to answer. Her eyes were sad.”