Between them, Lucas thought, Honcho and Drool probably had a combined IQ equaling their individual chest measurements. They were muscle, paid to dance to Corcoran’s tune and not care one way or the other about the melody. They looked like career criminals, and probably had rap sheets as long as his right leg.
Flicking over the next card, he eyed his options, placing the queen of hearts onto the king of clubs. He flipped another. The jack of diamonds. No place for it; he flipped again.
As for Junior Corcoran, Paul had seemed distracted and uncomfortable ever since they’d nabbed Raine and the baby. The baby. The way Corcoran looked at that kid, it was almost as though he hadn’t known she existed until he and his thugs had burst into Raine’s house and seen the playpen.
He turned over the last card. The joker. How in the hell had that gotten in the deck? He tossed it aside just as Honcho slammed the door open and stalked into the room. In his burly arms, he carried two grocery bags.
Dumping one of them out onto the twin bed closest to the door, he rummaged through the packages of sandwiches, Fritos, Chee · tos, and cellophane-wrapped junk food. Peeling back the paper from a gigantic burrito, he bit off a huge chunk. Past the bulge in his cheek, he snarled, “Hey, Russell. You can eat what ever you want, man, but keep your fucking paws off the Twinkies.” From the second bag, he pulled a can of beer. Curling his meaty fingers around it, he popped the top with his thumb.
“Who’s watching her door?” Lucas ventured, as he ripped open a bag of corn chips. “We spending the night here, or are we leaving soon?”
Honcho raised the aluminum can to his fleshy mouth and took several large swallows. Wiping his lips on the back of his hand, he said, “Drool’s got it covered for now. Soon as it’s real dark, we’re gonna split. You be ready, amigo.” His cold-eyed glare told Lucas that Honcho’s calling him friend was simply a force of habit.
Food in hand, the hefty goon sank onto the edge of the mattress, which squeaked in protest at his weight. Locating the remote, he turned on the TV and began channel-surfing.
As Lucas picked up the cards and shuffled the deck, he absently popped a couple of chips in his mouth, enjoying the salty taste, reminding him it had been hours since he’d eaten.
How in the hell was he going to get a woman and a baby away from these guys? Maybe he should sneak off somewhere, call Ethan and set up an ambush, but that might go wrong and Raine or the kid would get hurt.
Dealing the cards out, he began to move them around, red to black, black to red. He crunched down on another mouthful of corn chips.
The dingy motel sat on the outskirts of Goleta, just a few miles north of Santa Barbara. Paul had apparently chosen it because the clientele seemed to be nil, they could park in front of their rooms, and come and go without the manager watching their every move.
The six of them were divided among three rooms, with two men in rooms on either side of Raine’s. All the front doors faced the parking lot, and the only other exits were tiny windows above the tubs in the bathroom. Tiny being the significant word, since Caroline might have been able to fit through the window, but not Raine, and certainly not Lucas.
Even if he were to find a way to spirit her and the kid away, if the baby woke up during the process and cried, Lucas would undoubtedly be killed, leaving Raine to face three felons by herself.
Not an option.
He discounted Junior as much of threat. Paul was one of those glamour pusses—all looks, all attitude, sliding by on his old man’s money and reputation, but a coward to the core. The fact he’d drugged a woman to have sex with her pretty much said it all.
And while Drool had a weapon, he was moronic and slow. Probably a small-time thug, petty crimes, misdemeanors, but without the killer instincts that seeped from every one of the Hispanic’s pores.
Behind him, Honcho had settled on Maury, and seemed deeply interested in which of a pair of brothers had fathered some poor teenager’s kid. The weepy young mother swore she’d been faithful to the older brother. Well, pretty sure anyway.
“She did it,” Honcho mumbled past a mouthful of Twinkie. “Like, you can tell, man. She looks guilty as hell to me. Hey, Lucas. Don’t you think this bitch looks guilty?”
Lucas spared a glance at the TV, where the large, pimple-faced teen was dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said as he checked his watch. “Give me the key, would you? I want to go visit my girlfriend, take her some Fritos. Maybe that’ll make her a little more friendly.”
Honcho snorted, then reached into the pocket of his stained white T-shirt, pulling out Raine’s room key. Tossing it to Lucas, he warned, “Be back in five minutes, or I come looking for you, which I guarantee you would not want. Oh, and leave your cell phone and gun on the bed, compañero.”
Shit, Lucas thought. “No problem,” he said, scooping up a bag of corn chips.
As he let himself into Raine’s room, he checked his watch again. Five minutes to form a plan for her escape. Five damn minutes.
It would just have to do.
Chapter Eighteen
To heighten your love life, place exactly three or nine new plants in your bedroom. This vitalizes the atmosphere, adding positive energy, hope, and good cheer. And if those plants happen to have pink blossoms, then lie back and prepare to be amazed!
Georgiana Mundy’s Feng Shui for Lovers
Outside the kitchen window, a crescent moon hung above the distant rooftops, a tipsy grin among a thousand winking stars. Staring into the velvet night, Georgie tried to cleanse her mind of the pain she’d seen in Ethan’s eyes when she’d accused him of failing to protect Raine. He’d clenched his jaw, refusing to defend himself, letting her vent her fury and fear on him.
She’d seen past his hazel eyes, deep into his soul, and in that moment, she knew there was nothing she could say to him, no accusation she could levy that would punish him more than he was punishing himself. Though she’d glimpsed in Ethan’s eyes what Lucas Russell’s betrayal had cost him, she’d continued scolding him. Maybe something inside her had hoped if she yelled loud enough, it would drown out the sound of her own guilt at what she was doing to him.
Picking up the can opener, she twirled the handle idly in her hand. She knew Ethan better now, knew his moods; she’d witnessed his strengths, gotten a sense of his vulnerabilities. Though he could undoubtedly hold his own in a fistfight with five men, it had only taken a few harsh words from her to knock the wind out of him.
Even though she’d spoken from shock and worry, she wished she could call back those words. They’d struck him like barbed arrows through the heart; she’d seen in his eyes that they’d hit their mark. Hot guilt had replaced icy anger, and she felt her cheeks flush in shame.
Now that she’d put a little distance between Ethan and herself, she’d gained some perspective on what had happened; it hadn’t been his fault. All he’d done, really, was put his faith in the wrong person. And he’d been unexpectedly betrayed.
That was something she understood right down to the atomic layer of her being.
His voice had shaken with determination as he’d promised to fix things, to make it all right. Though his expression had remained stony, she knew her words had wounded him, and she feared their poison would remain in his blood a long time.
Filling a large saucepan with cold water, she set it on the stove and turned up the heat, then went to the cupboard, where she pulled out a couple of red Fiesta ware soup bowls and set them on the table. By the time she’d added spoons, napkins, and tumblers, the water had come to a rolling boil. She tore open three cellophane packages and dumped the contents into the burbling water. After a quick stir, she put a lid on the pot and lowered the heat.
“Smells good,” Ethan said from behind her. “What are we—”
“Top Ramen,” she said. “It’s almost done. Sit down.”
As she turned toward him, he was staring at the pan, disappointment glazing his eyes. “Oh.”
“H
ey, you’re lucky it’s not a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and apple juice in a sippy cup, pal. The lettuce and meat were spoiled from sitting in the car all day.”
“Georgie, I—”
“Let’s not talk about it.” She kept her tone soft, quiet. “For a while, let’s just not talk about it, okay?”
“Look, I know today has been rough—”
He reached for her, but his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, diverting his attention. Flipping it open, he scowled, then looked at Georgie. “Sorry. I’d better take this.” The phone to his ear, he said, “Yeah, Mom?”
Georgie cocked an interested ear in his direction as she poured soup into the two bowls. The kitchen windows steamed over, and the scent of salty chicken broth filled the air.
“I’m not in San Francisco right now, Mom,” he said patiently, as he slid into one of the chairs at the table. “I can’t come by until…no, not then. I’m in the middle of…yeah, that might work out, but if…uh-huh.” He nodded a few times, then fisted his fingers around his spoon. “Maybe you should see a specialist. Obviously, the doctors you’ve been seeing…uh-huh. No, Andie can’t, Mom. She just started an undercover assignment. Of course she didn’t give you any details. It’s undercover. No, Nate’s busy being a newlywed.”
He lowered his gaze and seemed to study his soup bowl. “I’ll take care of…uh-huh…uh-huh. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow and work out the details. We’re just sitting down to eat, and…what? Yeah, I said we.” He flashed a quick look at Georgie. “No, Mom, she’s a client. Yes, she means the client is a woman. No, a client, Mom. I know Nate just got married. I was his best…no, Mom. It’s not like that. I’m not seeing anyone. Listen, I have to go. You sure you’re okay? Good. I’ll call you tomorrow—”
Georgie slid into the seat across from Ethan’s as he closed his eyes, rolled his lips together, and listened to what ever his mother was going on and on about; it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that was.
He began to nod and lean forward a little like people do when they’re hurrying to end a phone conversation. “I’ll call you when I get back to town. Okay. Yeah. Me, too.”
After he flipped the phone closed and set it back on the table, Georgie took a sip of soup, wondering which part of his conversation she should address first. Begin generally, she decided, then hone it down to specifics. “She just wants you to be happy.”
He grunted, and sprinkled salt and pepper on the hot liquid in his bowl. “My mom hasn’t got a clue what kind of life I lead, and I try very hard to keep it that way.”
“Then why didn’t you let your brother take care of your mom’s problem?”
He shrugged, averted his eyes.
“Are you everyone’s champion, Ethan?”
Flashing her a look, he said, “No,” just like a petulant little boy. If there’d been a pebble on the ground in front of him, he’d have kicked it.
“I think you are, or you think you should be. Some people would call that kind of behavior controlling, but I think it’s just because you feel you have to take care of everyone.”
“I take care of myself,” he groused. “That’s it.”
Georgie shook her head. “It’s taken me a while, but I finally figured it out. I’ll bet it’s why you became a policeman, and why you’re in the security business now. To take care of people, keep them safe. You were born to be a good guy. A hero—”
“I’m no hero, Georgie,” he growled, his eyes snapping with sudden anger. “You certainly have evidence of that. Let’s just eat and skip the psychobabble, all right?”
She should let it rest. They were tired, and the situation with Raine pressed down on both of them in painful proportions. But she couldn’t let it rest, not now, not with her newfound knowledge of the way she felt about him.
“I don’t want to pick any nits,” she said slowly, swirling her spoon through the noodles in her bowl. “But you told me just this morning that I was not your client, yet I just heard you tell your mother I was. You also said you weren’t seeing anyone. Now, if I were the type whose feelings got easily hurt…”
She shoved a glop of the savory noodles into her mouth, leaving the sentence for him to finish.
He scowled. “We are not talking about this right now.”
She swallowed. “Okay. Let’s talk about something else. Why don’t you like your family?”
“I like my family about as much as anybody likes their family.” He twirled some noodles around his spoon and lifted it to his mouth.
“Don’t you like your brother’s new wife?”
Around the bulge in his cheek, he admitted, “Tabitha’s great.”
“So it’s your brother you don’t like?”
“We have issues. Be quiet and eat. I need go get some sleep.”
“Who’s Andie?”
“My sister.”
“She’s a cop, too?”
He nodded.
“Working undercover must be very dangerous. Don’t you worry about her?”
“All the time. But she’s a police officer. She knows the risks.”
“All of them?”
Setting his spoon down, his motions stilled, he looked into her eyes, and she knew she’d just crossed over into very dangerous territory. “What in the hell do you mean by that?”
She set her own spoon down and laid her hands in her lap. “Tell me about Cathy. Please.”
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry for those things I said to you earlier. I know what happened wasn’t your fault. I blamed you because I didn’t know who else to blame.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I know you did your best. Everything will be all right. I…I believe in you—”
“Don’t,” he snapped. “You have every right to be angry with me. I fucked up.”
“You trusted this Lucas Russell guy. You must have had your reasons. How could you know he’d do…what he did?”
He blinked, squared his shoulders. “We are not discussing this right now. Not any of it.”
Georgie took in a deep breath, nodded as though she were agreeing with him. Then, “I…care about you. And after my behavior earlier, I feel a sense of obligation to try and smooth things out. Please, Ethan. Tell me about Cathy. It’s obvious that what ever happened with you and her has left you very wounded—”
“I’m not wounded.” He laughed, too quickly, too easily. “Jesus, lady. Haven’t you ever heard that no means no? I do not want to talk about Cathy. Besides, it was a long time ago. Just drop it, okay?”
She waited a moment, then said, “Earlier, you asked me to trust you, and I did—”
“But I—”
“Doesn’t matter. You held up your end of the bargain. Believe me, I’m the last person to try and convince somebody to let down their guard, but Ethan, I see it in your eyes, whenever Cathy’s name is mentioned. So much pain—”
“Stop it! Leave me and my pain alone, Georgie. This is none of your business.” He shoved another bite into his mouth and stared into her eyes, challenging her to keep quiet.
Too bad for him she was lousy at heeding warnings.
“We are going to talk about this, Ethan, because what ever happened has become a barrier between us. I sat here just now and listened while you outright lied to your mother. You are seeing someone, and it’s me. Yeah, I was pissed at you earlier, but I’ve moved on now and I’ve decided I don’t want any barriers between us!”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. The muscle of his jaw worked as he studied the table.
“Oh, you’re one of those guys, aren’t you?” she pressed. “The kind that, when he loses somebody he loves, keeps everybody at an arm’s length, never allowing himself to love again because losing them hurts so much.”
“That’s not true,” he bit out, stabbing her with those intense eyes.
“Well, try having nobody, and see how you like that!” she huffed. “Try bouncing from foster home to foster home for years and years and years, never landing anywhere for long, n
ever forming bonds, and when you do, they yank you away and set you down somewhere else. Try having a childhood of Thanksgivings, Christmases, New Year’s Eves alone. Bickering with somebody, anybody would be better than staring at the walls, all by yourself!”
He leaned toward her, his eyes glazed with fury. “You think being alone is bad, and sure, it can be. I’m sorry you suffered the way you did. I mean that. The ideal everyone wants is a happy family where times spent together are fun. But some families have so much baggage, so much conflict, so much shit, you’re better off being alone! Families are not perfect. It depends on the people involved, their relationships, their history, external forces. Happiness is not a given, Georgie. It’s not the default value.”
Crossing her arms, she said, “All right. Granted. But I don’t think that’s true of you and your family.”
“And you know so much about my family,” he said dryly.
“I don’t. But I know you, better than you think. And I’ve heard you on the phone to your brother and your mom. And I’ve heard the tone in your voice when you speak of your sister. I think you love them all just fine. Yeah, there’s some stuff going on between you and Nate, but it’s not so big you can’t work it out.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. I-Don’t-Know-Crap.”
She let her spoon fall to the table. “How’d we end up talking about your family? We were talking about Cathy!”
“No, we were not talking about Cathy. We were specifically—”
“I love you, Ethan!” she blurted, jumping to her feet. Her hands flat on the table, she leaned forward, glaring into his surprised, then suddenly guarded eyes. “I love you. I’ve felt it coming on for days now, like a virus you’re hoping you can fight off. But I can’t fight it off, and today I realized I don’t want to. I’ve got a bad case of you, and I can’t ignore the symptoms. I love you, you jerk! Now, what in the hell are you going to do about that?”
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