One Wrong Step (Borderline Book 2)

by Laura Griffin

  Silence.

  “Feenie?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” She sighed. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me all this.”

  “She probably thought you’d try and talk her out of getting involved with me.”

  “I would have. You barely even know her, McAllister. You have no idea what she’s been through.”

  He clenched his teeth. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  Feenie, of course, was already on a soapbox. “Couldn’t you find someone else to shack up with? In a city of a million people? Celie’s already dealing with a lot right now.”

  “I know that. Shit. I don’t need a lecture.”

  “The entire last year has been hell for her, and now—”

  “That’s not the only thing.” He took a deep breath and tried to tamp down his temper. “She’s been all over the news.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wrote the original article. I know how she is about her privacy, and I tried to keep her name out of the paper. But some local station put it together that she was married to a big international fugitive, Saledo’s name came up, and now it’s a free-for-all. I think she’s freaked out.”

  “Well, God, I don’t blame her! You sleep with her and then all her problems end up in the paper? What were you thinking?”

  “Look, this isn’t why I called you.”

  “Why did you call me?”

  Why had he called? Feenie’s baby cooed in the background as John thought about how to answer that. “I don’t know,” he admitted. It didn’t make any sense, not even to him. He’d called the dead last person who would ever convince Celie to give him another chance. “I guess, you know, I’m worried about her. She’s going through something, and she won’t talk to me, but I think she needs to talk to someone. I know she trusts you.”

  The last part stung, because he was admitting Celie didn’t trust him.

  Feenie sighed. “What a mess,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  The buzzer sounded, and Celie slammed shut her textbook. Why couldn’t he take a hint? She’d told him to leave her alone, for God’s sake, and instead he’d become her personal stalker.

  She was going to have to talk to the management. Again.

  She stomped across the apartment and punched Talk on the intercom.

  “I told you, Terrance. No visitors, please.”

  “Sorry Ms. Wells, but I’ve got a lady down here named Jeannie? She says—”

  “Celie, it’s me!” Feenie’s voice came through the speaker. “I’m dying for a bathroom. Better buzz me up quick before I make a puddle all over this nice floor.”

  Feenie was in Austin. Great. “It’s okay, Terrance. Send her up, please.”

  Celie glanced around her apartment. She’d been studying for exams all week and had scarcely taken a shower, much less picked up after herself. Soft drink cans littered the coffee table, and the floor was blanketed with books and lecture notes. Her laptop sat open on the kitchen counter next to a now-empty carton of kung pao chicken.

  She started scooping up cans and tossing them in the recycle bin. Why hadn’t Feenie called first? Her timing was terrible—Celie had a final tomorrow morning and a term paper due Monday.

  She made a stack of books and dumped some dirty plates in the sink. She hadn’t even brushed her hair today, and she’d been wearing the same T-shirt for the past forty-eight hours.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Celie blew out a sigh and gave up. Feenie would just have to ignore the mess. She crossed her apartment, undid the locks, and swung open the door.

  “Surprise!” Feenie beamed at her from the hallway. She was all blond curls and twinkling blue eyes, the same as always, except for the squirming bundle in her arms.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” Celie stepped back and ushered them inside, locking the door behind them.

  Feenie kissed Celie’s cheek and shoved Olivia into her arms. “Hold her for a sec, would you? I’ve really gotta pee!”

  Celie hugged the baby to her chest. “The bathroom’s just—” But Feenie had already disappeared down the hallway.

  Celie’s gaze dropped to Olivia, who was staring up at her with huge brown eyes. She wore a pink striped sleeper that matched the blanket swaddled around her. “Hey there, precious,” Celie said. “Just look how big you’re getting!”

  Olivia started whimpering. Her brow furrowed and her little mouth turned down, and Celie panicked and shifted her to a shoulder. She swayed from side to side in what she hoped was a soothing motion.

  “I swear, I’ve been dying for the last hour,” Feenie called from the bathroom. “I didn’t want to pull over because I kept thinking we were almost here.”

  Olivia wiggled, and Celie stroked her back. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Mommy’s coming right back.” Olivia’s head was covered with downy brown hair, and she smelled like baby powder. Celie kissed her brow.

  “We made pretty good time,” Feenie yelled over the faucet. “Five and a half hours, door to door, with one pit stop to feed Liv.”

  “Is Marco with you?”

  Olivia’s face crumpled. Too loud. Oh, dear.

  “Shh…” she cooed, patting the baby’s padded bottom. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to yell.” Maybe she could distract her with something. She walked to the breakfast room window, where the midafternoon sun streamed through the blinds. Olivia blinked as the rays fell across her face. It felt warmer next to the window, and her little frown disappeared.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” Feenie said, coming to stand beside Celie. “I feel much better now.”

  “She’s getting so big,” Celie marveled. “And look at all this hair!”

  “I can’t believe it either. Every day she looks more and more like Marco.” Feenie stroked the baby’s cheek, and she bobbed her head.

  “You think she’s hungry?”

  “Probably,” Feenie replied, gently taking Olivia from Celie’s shoulder. “It’s been a few hours since her last meal.”

  Celie glanced around the living room. The most comfortable place to sit was an oversize armchair, but she remembered Feenie always used a glider back home.

  “Let me get my rocker,” Celie said, heading back into her bedroom.

  “Oh, don’t bother with that.”

  “It’s no bother.”

  The chair was buried under towels and dirty clothes, and Celie shoved everything to the floor. She dragged the rocker across the apartment and positioned it alongside an end table.

  Feenie sank into the chair. “Thanks,” she said, arranging Olivia in the crook of her arm. She unfastened several buttons on her chambray shirt and, in a few expert motions, had the baby latched on and feeding.

  Celie averted her eyes. Feenie was a busty woman under normal circumstances, but since Olivia’s birth…well, it was pretty astonishing.

  “Can I get you something?” Celie asked. When she’d last visited Mayfield, she’d noticed Feenie’s habit of keeping a tall glass of Carnation Instant Breakfast handy while she nursed. “I don’t have any milk, but I can make some herbal tea.”

  “I’m okay,” Feenie said. “Marco and I shared an orange juice a little while ago.”

  Celie plopped onto the couch. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “Checking out your security.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. He dropped me off and said he was going to come back and see if he could manage to get up here without alerting the guard.”

  “He’s conducting an undercover operation in my building ?”

  Feenie smiled. “I know, I know. But it’s his thing. He’ll give you a full report, which I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to share with whoever manages this place. He likes your security fence, and he says the gates and cameras are top of the line. I think he’s more concerned about the human element.”

  “What, like my guard?”

  “Yeah. T
hat guy Terrance is really nice, but he never even asked me to sign in or show ID or anything. Marco will have a field day with that. You’re paying a premium here for security.”

  Celie sighed.

  “Don’t worry. We’re booked at the Hampton Inn tonight, so we won’t be in your way.”

  “You’re not in my way. I just had no idea y’all were coming to town. You should have called me.”

  Feenie shrugged and gazed down at Olivia. “It was pretty spur of the moment. We didn’t decide to come until last night.”

  “Let me guess. Someone heard about me on the news, right?” Celie leaned her head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “God, my mother’s probably freaking out about now.”

  “John McAllister called me, actually.” Feenie looked at her. “He thinks you’re in some kind of funk.”

  Unbelievable. Celie pushed herself off the sofa. “That man has a lot of nerve telling you to come up here like this—”

  “He didn’t tell me to come. He just said he was worried.” Feenie eyes filled with concern. “Why didn’t you say something, Celie? I would have been up here in a flash if I’d known you were having all this trouble.”

  She scoffed. That was exactly why Celie hadn’t said anything. “I’m not having trouble.”

  Now Feenie looked hurt.

  “Not really.” God, why did McAllister have to be so damn meddlesome?

  “He said you had a run-in with the Saledos.”

  Celie walked into the kitchen for a soft drink. “Turns out, it wasn’t the Saledos. And it was minor, really.” Except for someone getting shot. “The police handled it.”

  “And you got fired from your job?”

  Celie muttered a curse. He’d told her everything. She returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch. “I’ll find something else. It’s no big deal.”

  Feenie gave her a sharp look. She knew full well how much that job had meant to her. “Okay, so I suppose now you’re going to tell me you’re not sleeping with John McAllister?”

  “I’m not sleeping with John McAllister.” Never again.

  Feenie shook her head and gazed down at the baby. Little Olivia had her eyes closed. A lock of damp hair clung to her forehead, and she looked rosy and content. Her tiny, dimpled hand rested on her mother’s breast as she nursed.

  “She’s really beautiful,” Celie said softly.

  Feenie smiled.

  “You make a wonderful mother.”

  She tucked the blanket around the baby and gave Celie a skeptical look. “I don’t know about that. I feel like a zombie half the time.”

  Celie watched the two of them in the rocker together, surprised to feel tenderness instead of envy. She loved Feenie like a sister, and she really, truly wanted her to be happy.

  “It’s not what I expected,” Feenie said.

  “What isn’t?”

  She glanced up. “Motherhood.” She tipped her head to the side. “It’s wonderful and all that, and I love Olivia so much, sometimes I feel like I’m gonna burst, but it’s not all Kodak moments. And it doesn’t solve all your problems.”

  “I know that.” At least, Celie thought she did. She’d wanted a baby for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to want anything else.

  “I mean, it’s definitely the most stressful thing I’ve ever done,” Feenie said. “Being responsible for this other person all the time. Round the clock, no excuses. And the sleep deprivation…” She glanced up. “It’s a lot of work sometimes. And I have help. Marco’s been an angel. He’s absolutely enamored with her, but still it’s hard. We bicker a lot.”

  “That’s probably normal,” Celie offered. It was, wasn’t it? It never occurred to her that Feenie and Marco might be having marital stress. She’d been so absorbed with her own life lately, she’d hardly stopped to think about her friends and family.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Feenie said. “We’re doing fine. It’s just a lot, you know? The baby, the bills, the housework. I can’t imagine doing it all alone.”

  Celie cleared her throat. “I guess McAllister told you, didn’t he? That I’m still trying to get pregnant?”

  Feenie glanced up warily. “Are you sure that’s the best thing?”

  Celie sighed. No one understood how important this was to her.

  “I’m not judging you, Celie.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I’m really not. If anyone can pull off single parenthood, it’s you. I just…I don’t want to see you disappointed. Or overwhelmed. Why not wait until you meet the right guy and then you can get married and adopt or something? Does this really have to happen right now? And with John?”

  “It’s not happening with him. I’m not pregnant. We’re not seeing each other anymore. End of story.”

  Feenie scoffed. “End of story. Yeah, right. If you really believe that, you don’t know squat about John McAllister. When that man makes up his mind about something, look out.”

  “What do you mean ‘look out’? What’s he made his mind up about?”

  Feenie shot her annoyed look. “You, Celie. Open your eyes!”

  “My eyes are open, thank you very much. And I see a chronic playboy, relieved as heck to be back on the market after a whirlwind affair with a baby-obsessed basket case!”

  Feenie shook her head. “Celie…”

  “What?”

  “Hon, if that’s what you really see, you need to have your eyes examined.”

  Celie slid the Volvo into her reserved parking space and scooped plastic bags off the passenger seat. She’d just completed a bigger-than-usual Saturday morning grocery run, but she was determined to get everything upstairs in one load.

  She trudged across the parking garage, the bags strangling her fingers as she neared the door. This wasn’t going to work, especially with her key card tucked away in her back pocket. She started to adjust the bags, and one of the doors swung open.

  “Thank you,” she gushed. “I was just—”

  She glanced up into John McAllister’s penetrating blue eyes. He held the door open for her and used his free hand to take all her bags.

  “After you,” he said, nodding toward the lobby.

  CHAPTER

  19

  Celie huffed out a breath and went inside. She should have expected this today. He didn’t usually work Saturdays, so of course he’d show up at The Overlook.

  Terrance stood up as Celie strode across the lobby toward the elevator bank.

  “Mr. McAllister’s already checked in, Ms. Wells, but he can’t go up without your approval.”

  Celie grimaced. “He’s fine. Thank you, Terrance.”

  The formerly friendly security guard gave her a curt nod. Marco’s report had not been kind.

  Carrying all her bags like they were nothing, McAllister reached over and tapped the elevator button. He wore jeans, beat-up running shoes, and a white T-shirt commemorating some beerfest in Shiner, Texas.

  The elevator doors dinged open, and they rode up in silence, Celie staring at her feet to keep from making eye contact with McAllister in the mirrored doors. The last time they’d ridden this elevator together, he had been whispering indecent suggestions in her ear the whole way. She wondered if he was thinking about that now.

  Her cheeks warmed, and she hurried into the hallway as the doors slid open.

  This wasn’t good. He’d follow her into her apartment, help her put her groceries away, and then what? They’d either end up fighting or in bed together. Or both. It was a surefire way for her to get her heart battered.

  She stopped in front of her door and rummaged through her purse for the key. She found herself wondering if she’d remembered to make the bed, and feeling grateful that she’d showered and put on a fresh knit top today instead of the stained sweatshirt she’d been living in of late. McAllister stood patiently beside her, pretending not to notice her clumsiness as she fumbled with the locks.

  She would be calm. Detached. She would listen as
he said whatever it was he’d come to say, and then she’d politely ask him to leave. If she asked him to go, he’d respect her request.

  She just hoped she’d have the willpower to ask him.

  She pushed open the door, and he brushed past her into the apartment. He went through the old routine of checking all the rooms before joining her back in the kitchen, where he set the bags down on the counter beside her purse.

  “Any weird phone calls lately?” he asked.

  “No.”

  She opened the fridge and busied herself putting food away. Today she’d had a lengthy shopping list. If she drew things out, it would take her a while to unpack. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to look at him while he talked. That would definitely help.

  “T-Bone still hanging around?”

  “No,” Celie said. “It didn’t seem necessary, what with the arrests last week.” It was also expensive, and she couldn’t afford to keep paying him indefinitely when there was no longer a clear threat to her safety.

  Less than a day after the money drop, the Barriolo brothers were apprehended at a border checkpoint. In a dazzling display of stupidity, they were driving a Mercury Cougar that had been reported stolen in Austin the previous morning. The man in black from the Lamar Street Bridge was still in custody, too. Rowe had told Celie the guy was a Saledo employee sent to Austin to intercept the cash. How he’d found out about the drop was another question, but Celie figured it was Rowe’s job to answer that one.

  McAllister knew all this, but he didn’t say anything. He just leaned back against her counter, watching intently as Celie arranged yogurt cups on a shelf.

  “What?”

  “I still think you need to take precautions,” he said.

  “Well, Rowe agrees with you. He said they’re keeping me under surveillance for the foreseeable future.”

  Celie didn’t really think Saledo would bother with her now—Robert was dead, the cash he’d taken had supposedly been seized by federal agents, and Celie no longer possessed any money or information Saledo could use. Still, she didn’t mind having the FBI looking out for her, just to be safe.