“You overheard your parents fighting?”
“No, my mother was on the phone with her parents or her sister. I’m not sure which. She made the call in yet another misguided attempt to placate my father. She was cutting off all contact with her family.” He laughed bitterly, adding, “My parents never argued. My mother wouldn’t have taken the chance of setting George off.”
“Let’s talk about Salt Lake some other time. Tell me what happened near the forest,” she urged. “You won’t escape the pain until you do.”
Marshaling his thoughts, he let the pregnant silence draw out. Cat didn’t live a surface life. Whatever he found the stamina to discuss, she’d feel down to her bones.
The surf rolled back in, the swirling waters calming him. “I only remember snatches of the day. Fairly typical for a kid so young. We went camping outside San Francisco, in a state park, I suppose.”
Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed it down. Cat was right—he needed to get this out. He needed to let go, even at the risk of burdening her. He’d never shake the memories if he didn’t release at least a small portion of them from his heart into hers for safekeeping.
“My father got pretty drunk. He smashed a bottle against a tree. Beer bottle, wine bottle—my mother won’t talk about it. He came at me first.” Ryan tapped the scar beneath his eye. “George would’ve cut me again, but my mother pushed me out of the way. Which is when he cut her.”
“Oh, God. How old were you?”
“Four years old.”
“What if you’d lost your eyesight? Your father could’ve blinded you.”
A sickening thought he’d mulled over for years. “I was lucky.”
In an automatic gesture of self-protection, she wrapped her arms around her waist. “Where is your father now?”
“Presumably out West.”
“When did you last see him?”
Fear curled across his shoulders. “During my teens.” He had no intention of discussing those last months in Salt Lake, or the harrowing events in Twin Falls. “I had nightmares clear into high school about a forest and a man coming at me, which is why my mother finally gave a limited explanation. George got us both—clean sweeps, right across our faces. Hers is under her right eye. Another thing we have in common, like our aversion to clutter and love of Italian food.”
“I’m glad you trust me with the story.”
“You’re easy to trust.” Impulsively he hooked a lock of Cat’s thick hair behind her ear. But he didn’t retreat, as common sense advised. “Thanks for listening.”
Her expression thoughtful, she seemed unaware he hadn’t moved off. “Geez, my office must give you the willies. No wonder you were fired up about organizing my file cabinet the day after we met. I thought I’d hired a maid service, not the best marketing guru in Ohio. Why does clutter bother you?”
“Don’t worry. Your sketchy organizational skills aren’t a big deal.” When she began to offer another apology, he brushed his lips across hers. He didn’t stop to weigh the wisdom of breaching the line of professional conduct they’d worked so hard to maintain. She tasted warm and inviting, and it took all his resolve not to pull her into his arms. “Cat, I can deal with your office. The only thing that makes me anxious when we’re squirreled away together is the work I’m not thinking about when I’m fantasizing about you.”
“You fantasize about me?” she asked breathlessly. The husky tenor of her voice sent heat racing from his scalp to his spine. “Even with all the clutter underfoot?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He kissed her then, partially because she appeared ready to make a resolution impossible to keep, like the impulsive resolutions people made on New Year’s to lose weight or quit smoking. Her ability to give herself over to the moment, to drink him in without equivocation, filled him with something good.
When they drew apart, panting and grinning, she bit nervously at the corner of her lips. “Was that a good idea?”
“Probably not.”
“It won’t make working together easier.”
“No, it won’t.” She looked dizzy and slightly perplexed, and he couldn’t resist adding, “Especially since I’d like to do it again.”
A smile overtook her lips. “We should get back.” She kicked absently at the surf, then glanced at him. “I’ve been meaning to give you something. This feels like the right time.”
Her hand dipped beneath the neckline of her dress. She withdrew a delicate chain.
“I always wear a token first, before giving it away—to fill it with positive energy.” She pulled the necklace over her head.
A series of unusual trinkets dangled on the chain. With care, she slid off the length of feathers, tiny stones, and even smaller shells. The trinkets were threaded together with simple twine.
He wasn’t sure what to make of the arts and crafts project. “Is this a gift?”
“Protection. This is a Siren token.” Her fingers coasted across the two feathers. “The gold feather will give you courage.”
“And the silver?” he asked, his heart thumping. A memory from long ago, stubbornly lodged in his mind, refused his efforts to ferry it to consciousness. “Looks like you decorated the thing with metallic paint.”
“Sure left a mess on my mother’s table. She’ll be scraping up droplets for weeks.” She patted his cheek. “Silver is for happiness. Because, you know, you need to loosen up.”
“What about the stones and the shells?”
“The stones will ground you. The shells will give you the ability to hear your heart’s desire.”
The last of her explanation barely reached his ears as he tried to answer the question rising inside him. With wonder, he examined the delicate string of objects. The memory, teasing at the corners of his mind, refused to appear. Which struck him as immaterial since he’d already reached a startling conclusion.
He’d seen this token before.
The cop slid the release papers through the window’s slot. “Sign here.”
George flipped through the sheets and scrawled his name across the last page.
The officer, a clean-shaven youth with strangely mismatched pupils, took back the paperwork. “Do yourself a favor,” he said. “Don’t do anything that’ll send you back here.”
“I shouldn’t have been here at all.” A week at the Hamilton County Justice Center for nonpayment of fines on missed court appearances—it was a shitty break. “I’m a law-abiding citizen. I didn’t deserve this.”
The officer gave him a jaundiced look. “You got a ride home?”
“What home?”
After his last woman convinced the authorities to charge him with battery, she’d kicked him out. He spent more than a month roaming through halfway houses in Cincinnati. Nearly six weeks, in fact, before the cops picked him up at his grease monkey job and took him in. With the week in lockup finished, George doubted his job at Dalton Car Care was waiting for him.
A map came through the slot. “Catch the bus one block up. It’s not a far walk. Here are the directions.” A plastic bag of his belongings followed. Cell phone, wallet, lottery tickets—the forty bucks in his wallet wouldn’t last long.
George took his stuff and strode through the cavernous lobby. First order of business? Pick up his wheels, parked behind Dalton’s. Next? Finding a job would take time, but he needed cash now.
He’d gone through rough times in the past. This felt like the bottom of the gravel pit.
Which left him with only one choice. The time for another visit to Sweet Lake was long overdue.
Chapter 10
“We’re having a slumber party? Sorry, ladies. I’m not in the mood.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, Cat regarded her friends with exasperation. She didn’t have the emotional reserves for girl talk or much of anything else, with the exception of a hot bath and a depressingly early bedtime for a Friday night. Watching Ryan drive away at 6:00 p.m. with the awareness she wouldn’t see him again until Monday was cert
ainly a hardship. After the disturbing story he’d shared this afternoon, she’d hated to see him go at all.
On the queen-size bed, Linnie and Jada reclined with Beefcake Bill stuffed between them. They’d arranged the inflatable man in a sitting position. The savvy move allowed Bill to hold the chips and the bowl of salsa they’d brought along for the unsanctioned hangout.
Linnie dunked a chip in the salsa. “I’d stay for a slumber party, but Daniel would miss me. This is your standard-issue rescue operation.” She popped the chip into her mouth.
Cat tossed her purse on the dresser. “You’re rescuing me? From what?”
“Ryan. You’re back to wearing sexy outfits, and we’ve both noticed the door to your office is closed an awful lot lately.”
“There’s nothing going on.” A half-truth, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about the kiss they’d shared on the beach. Giddy, confused—elated.
“Hey, I don’t care if you have a fling. Just don’t let it get in the way of your duties.” Linnie peered past Beefcake Bill. “Someone else has a different opinion. She wanted to check your lingerie drawer, see if you’ve made any new purchases.”
Jada, stuffing her mouth, spit the chip back out. “I did not say I’d check her lingerie drawer. I was only curious if she’d made any recent online purchases. She has an addiction. We both know it.”
“Like it’s our business if she buys naughty lace.”
Cat pulled the knit dress over her head. “I haven’t made any purchases.” She grabbed the fluffy robe from the clothing heaped on the chair by the window.
The prospect of two days without Ryan already had her dreading the slow weekend. Plus her emotions were bubbling too close to the surface, a consequence of everything they’d discussed on the beach.
“Change the subject. I’ve already been over the Ryan issue with my mother and Frances.”
“So there is an issue,” Jada remarked, her voice refreshingly free of censure.
“I like him a great deal.”
“I’m getting the impression you more than like him.”
“If you’re worried my emotions will get in the way of my duties, they won’t. Actually I’m getting more done, faster, thanks to him. If we’re sneaking in too many long glances while writing copy for ads—and while building a database that’s easily the most boring job I’ve ever done—well, then, so what? Granted, making out on the beach was not an inspired decision, but shit happens.”
Linnie, dipping her hand into the chips, froze like a burglar caught in the act. “Ryan kissed you on the beach?”
“Yes, Linnie. He hit me with a hot, mind-blowing kiss that had me more revved up than a pubescent boy.”
“How long has the romance been going on?”
“Since this afternoon.” Cat shrugged her shoulders, flopping her arms to her sides. “Don’t tell me it’s a stupid move—I know. Now I’m torn between wanting to protect him because he’s been through so much, and wanting to seduce him.”
The statement, delivered with more high-pitched angst than intended, layered the suite with a heavy stillness. Linnie removed the munchies from Beefcake Bill’s lap and set them on the nightstand. Jada, her jaw hanging loose, tossed the inflatable off the bed, sending Bill rolling toward the closet. She steered Cat into the space he’d vacated.
She said, “Be honest, girl. Are you thinking Ryan is . . . ?”
“The one?” A heaviness centered inside Cat. “Feeling this sure when I’ve known him for less than a month has flameout written all over it. There’s a lot about his life I don’t understand—might never understand. I’ve always assumed I’d find someone with a similar background, and an equally stable life. Our pasts are so different. But I am sure. He’s everything I’d hope to find in a man.”
The remark drew a quizzical glance from Linnie. “Slow down, Miss Optimistic. Get to know him before you make any life-altering decisions.”
“Like it matters what I do. After next week’s concert, Ryan hands over our account to lesser talents at Adworks. I’ll never see him again.”
“He lives in Cincinnati, not Tokyo. Why not date from a distance? Take turns with the commute.”
An option she’d considered and immediately discarded. His responsibilities to his mother were heavier than she’d assumed. They included a Continental Divide, with an ex-husband Julia D’Angelo still feared. Although Ryan had given only a rough sketch of his formative years, Cat had gleaned enough to conclude his obligations trumped his attraction to her.
“He can’t leave the city. I doubt he has much time for dating, let alone a girlfriend.”
“Now you’re a pessimist?”
Cat let the remark linger for an agonizing moment. Reflecting on Ryan’s past, she wavered between spilling her worries and protecting a confidence. Unlike in the conversation with her mother and Frances, when she was unaware of the brutality he’d experienced during childhood, she now understood. The gravity of that knowledge seeded her thoughts with fear.
There was danger here, more than Ryan credited. The intuition compelled her to say, “This isn’t a matter of discussing where to live if our relationship grows. Ryan can’t move. His mother lives with him, and he needs to look out for her.”
“So he brings her along. You all live happily ever after in Sweet Lake.”
“Linnie, you don’t get it. Julia is emotionally fragile. She feels safe in Cincinnati. Change frightens her.”
Jada took her hand. Threading their fingers together, she asked, “Why does she fear change?”
“Ryan’s father abused them both. He’s a monster. Julia has been hiding from him for a long time.”
A chilling disclosure, and Linnie rubbed her arms. “Why do I have the sensation you’re not exaggerating?”
A sharp pain bolted through Cat. Heartbreak, she thought. This is what heartbreak feels like when someone you care about has been brutalized.
Jada squeezed her hand. “Tell us.”
“I don’t know much. Ryan hates discussing his past.” She gave a stilted accounting of how he received the scar beneath his eye. Summing up, she added, “I didn’t have the heart to ask why Julia kept reconciling with George. I have the impression she didn’t finally get away from him until Ryan was a teenager.”
Linnie’s eyes grew large with alarm. “Ryan’s entire childhood was a nightmare?”
“I guess so. Now his mother watches the street with binoculars.”
“She’s upset about the USA Today feature,” Jada guessed. “She’s scared because they’re no longer invisible.”
“Ryan thinks she’s overreacting.”
“He’s no lightweight, Cat. If his father shows up after all this time, Ryan will protect himself and Julia.”
“Which is the point. Watching out for his mother occupies much of his time. You wouldn’t believe how many texts she sends while he’s working. He wasn’t even comfortable telling her that he’d taken an account outside the city. Can you imagine how she’d react if he tried long-distance dating?”
Linnie sighed, her expression softening. “In my opinion, Julia D’Angelo’s reaction is secondary. Is Ryan also falling hard?”
Despite her low mood, Cat nodded in the affirmative.
“Then don’t bail out. At least not yet.”
“I’m not bailing. I’m choosing not to get involved. There’s a difference.”
Linnie chuckled. “Sometimes your optimism is hard to take, but I’ve got to tell you: your new gloomy streak is worse.” The amusement fading from her features, she muttered under her breath. “Oh, heck. I forgot to tell you about the call from Midnight Boyz.”
“Why are they bothering you? They’re supposed to direct all calls to me.”
“Like the brats know how to follow directions. They’re playing in Cincinnati tonight. Since they’re in the general vicinity, they’re dropping by tomorrow to scope out the venue for the concert next weekend.”
“What time are they coming?”
“Late
afternoon.” Linnie grinned. “I got the impression they contacted me because they’ve worn through your last nerve.”
“With all the demands for special meals and the best rooms at the Wayfair, that’s putting it mildly.” She pushed the frightening thoughts of Ryan’s past, and his father, from her mind. “I’m glad they’re coming. Dealing with the brats is a better use of my time than worrying about matters beyond my control.”
By the time George took three buses to pick up his wheels at Dalton’s Car Care, the sun burnt orange fire across the Cincinnati skyline.
The engine of his Mustang snarling, he peeled out of the lot with his last paycheck. He was itching to make the drive to Sweet Lake over the weekend. Next Monday, when he met with his parole officer, she was sure to hand over a list of garages she expected him to check for work. Spending days going from one car shop to the next interviewing for a grease monkey job wouldn’t end his money woes—it never did. He needed a bigger score to get his life back on track, but he still hadn’t figured out a plan sure to dupe his ex-sister-in-law.
Wheedling cash out of the high-and-mighty Dufours had been easier before the old man died. Archie Dufour had treated his snooty wife like she was in the running for sainthood, gladly palming greenbacks into George’s hand to get him to push off. Since his death, the she-devil who hung around Frances got in the way. The last time George paid a visit, Silvia Mendoza flew out of the house screaming at him to get off the premises.
Like she had a right to stick her nose in family business.
The memory ate at him as he swerved into the lot of Kip’s Tavern. Wrenching the key from the ignition, he strode into the bar. Cheap booze, even cheaper women—he surveyed the pickings with an eye to finding somewhere to crash tonight and pad his wallet in the bargain. Sex was the best option to keep his mind off his troubles. Once he worked out a scheme to get Frances to hand over a wad of cash, the bad times were over.
The Comfort of Secrets (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 2) Page 11