Lawless

by Cindy Stark

  "I see." His mom rocked in her chair. "That must be very difficult for you."

  The sound of a power drill snagged Ariana's attention, and she turned to find Milo crouched down by the small gate. She took another sip, watching him over the rim of her frosty glass. A man who could work with his hands was a very attractive thing.

  He leaned and put something on the ground before using the drill again.

  "Ariana?" His mother interrupted her appreciation of the spectacular view.

  She focused on her pretend mother-in-law, praying her cheeks weren't as red as they were warm. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

  The corners of her mouth twitched, and Ariana was sure she'd been busted. "I said it must be very difficult for you to leave all your family behind."

  "It's been very challenging. I've had a strained relationship with my father for years, and my mother died when I was young." Quite possibly at the hands of her father. "So, I don't miss them so much. But my brother and my cousins, I do. And I continually worry about my best friend. She knows I'm in protective custody, but there has been so much speculation on the news about me. I wish I could speak to her, just for a second, to reassure her. She's been the one truly positive person in my life."

  Kindness and understanding radiated from his mother's blue eyes. "But no contact, correct?"

  She nodded. "No contact whatsoever. Especially now that I'm in deep cover."

  "Milo and I can appreciate your loss. His dad was killed a few years back. It can be tough learning to live without people you love."

  "What happened to him, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "He was a deputy sheriff, just like Milo is now, which has been a sore point of contention between us. At the time, Milo was stationed overseas in the Army. It was an ordinary day, much like today. My husband pulled a car over for speeding. They were drug dealers traveling en route from Los Angeles who couldn't afford to get busted for the third time. They chose to shoot Milo's father instead. In the end, they still went to prison, and we suffered for nothing."

  Ariana stopped rocking, sick with heartache for them. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how horrible that had to be."

  "For me, yes, but especially for Milo. He slapped on a coat of guilt faster than you can blink an eye. He says he should have been here. Like that would have made a difference. He's always had this desire to protect people, you know. I guess it bothered him that he wasn't able to save his father from harm. After that, he followed an army buddy, and they joined the Marshals. That was all good until that girl got killed."

  "What girl?"

  His mom finished her tea, the ice cubes clinking when she straightened her glass. "That's something Milo will have to tell you. I promised to stay quiet on the matter, and you know he's already accused me of being a blabber mouth."

  The drill whizzed again and then thumped.

  Ariana glanced back to Milo. He stood and lifted the gate to the side before turning toward them. He sauntered across the lawn, his ripped jeans hugging his hips, his gaze trained on her. She watched with fascination. He reminded her of a wildcat approaching its prey. If he took her right now, she wouldn't care. Well, except his mother was there.

  He climbed the steps to the patio, looked down at her and smiled. "Enjoying your afternoon?"

  "It's a little warm out here." She licked her bottom lip, trying to add moisture, but her tongue was just as dry.

  "Really? I thought it was perfect." He held her gaze for a second longer than a person would in a platonic relationship, and she started to wonder if he referred to her instead of the weather. Then just as quick, he looked away. "Where did you put the new hinges, Mom?"

  "They're on top of the fridge."

  Milo left to retrieve the hardware, and the conversation stalled until he returned. He said nothing when he reappeared, but headed straight back to the gate.

  She withheld the hum of appreciation that hovered on her lips as he crossed the yard.

  "Honey?"

  Not again. She jerked her gaze back to his mother, releasing an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm a little distracted today."

  "I can see why. Milo's a handsome man."

  Full-blown heat erupted on her face this time. "No, I mean—"

  "It's okay, Ariana. You're not the first woman to trip over my son." She heaved a deep sigh. "I'm just waiting for the day he falls for a good girl. I'd like to have grandbabies before I'm too old to enjoy them."

  "He had a serious girlfriend at one point, didn't he?" The woman had redecorated his whole house. "What happened to her?"

  "Dena? She was a two-bit, white-trash…" She stopped. "You get my drift. She wanted Milo's money, but she couldn't keep her legs together long enough to get it."

  That had to be an interesting story. She was sure it must have been painful for Milo, but she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry that they'd broken up. "That's terrible."

  "It was. Everyone knew about her and kept warning Milo, but he's a loyal sort of guy. He didn't want to believe she'd lied to him. When he finally learned the truth, it broke his heart, and he's done nothing but play with women since then." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong. He doesn't hurt them the way Dena hurt him, but he does have a way with the ladies."

  Ariana wished he'd show more of that side to her. They'd had their one flirtatious evening along with one hell of a sexy kiss, but then he'd shut down like an illegal firearms dealer busted by the feds, and she hadn't been able to get anything out of him since. And she wasn't going to try, she reminded herself.

  At least she understood Milo better now. Danny's brutal murder had closed off a vital part of her heart as well. "I guess sometimes things happen that cause a lot of damage. Damage that deep takes time to heal."

  His mother widened her eyes. "Sounds like you have some experience with this as well."

  She nodded. "More than I would like."

  "All done," Milo announced as he approached the house, carrying the toolbox. From the look on his face, it was obvious he was enjoying the moment. She didn't know if his happiness stemmed from being at his childhood home, or the beautiful sunny day, but she liked seeing him relaxed and unguarded. And sure enough, there was a dark smudge across his impressive abs.

  "Looks like you're a dirty boy," Ariana teased, wanting to reach out and wipe the mark from his stomach.

  "Yeah?" He set down the tool box and stepped toward her. "Want a hug?"

  "No." She laughed and shrank back in her chair.

  A wide grin split Nancy's face as she glanced between her and Milo. "Milo, why don't you get cleaned up and join us?"

  The rest of the afternoon and evening rushed by in a haze of laughter and great food. Milo's mother was a wonderful woman, and spending time with her magnified the hole left by her own mother.

  "We have to get going, Mom." Milo stood and extended a hand to help Ariana out of her chair.

  Nancy glanced toward the sky. "Always in a hurry."

  "We've been here five hours." Milo leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "We'll come again soon if that's all right with you and Ariana."

  Warmth rushed through her. "Are you kidding? I'd love it. I haven't had a conversation with a woman in a long time. Thank you, Nancy, for welcoming me into your home." Ariana leaned in to hug her pretend mother-in-law.

  "Let me stand up and hug you proper." Nancy rose and pulled Ariana in for a tight embrace. "I like this girl," she said to Milo. "You'd better bring her back before she has to leave."

  The thought of leaving Aspen left a bittersweet mark on Ariana's full heart.

  "And don't you be saying anything if I show up at your place. After all, she's supposedly my new daughter-in-law. It's only natural I'd be visiting her."

  * * *

  The next day, Ariana waited until the dust from Milo's truck had settled on the road before she hurried into the kitchen and turned on the TV to the national news channel. Milo had advised her to not watch, but trying to contain her curiosity about what was ha
ppening in the outside world was like trying to keep a bee away from its hive.

  She filled the kitchen sink with sudsy water and slipped in their bowls and mugs from breakfast. She'd barely washed a cup when the familiar image of her popped up on the screen. Funny, but she couldn't remember anyone taking that photo of her.

  As usual, the reporter recounted the basics of the case, the same information she'd heard before, including reports of her death. She would think most people would be tired of hearing this story by now.

  "In an effort to aid the investigation into the disappearance of lead witness, Ariana Trasatti," the news anchor continued, "a woman claiming to be her closest friend stepped forward and offered to identify a body that was pulled from the Chicago River yesterday. The police declined MacKenzie Harmon's request to be of assistance, stating they had sufficient evidence to identify the body, but they were holding off on the official announcement. Ms. Harmon, a college roommate of Ms. Trasatti's, spoke to our own Kent Davis and had this to say."

  A heavy lump of despair choked Ariana as a visibly upset Kenzie appeared on screen. Her normally gorgeous auburn hair had been pulled back into a lanky ponytail and obviously hadn't been washed for days. She'd forgone makeup, leaving noticeably dark moons hovering beneath her eyes.

  "I don't know why they won't let me see her. I could save them a lot of time and taxpayer dollars spent trying to identify her."

  "You and Ms. Trasatti were close then?"

  "She was the only sister I've ever had." Kenzie's voice quivered as she spoke, and Ariana knew without a doubt, she was clinging to her last thread of sanity. "I know that bastard murdered her." Desperation grew with each of her words. "I just want to see her. I want to hold her hand one last time. I don't care what shape her body is in."

  "When you say 'sister', do you mean biological sister?"

  "She's my sister in every way that counts, and I love her. Why won't they let me see her?"

  Ariana tried to swallow past her own tears now coursing down her cheeks.

  The camera abandoned the pitiful picture of Kenzie and cut back to the anchor. "As you can see, there are many who are waiting and wondering about the identity of this young woman. Authorities are saying the information is forthcoming, but they refuse to give an exact date or time."

  Ariana watched blindly for another minute before shutting off the TV. The haunting sound of an empty house echoed around her. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and then sought out a tissue.

  Shutting her eyes, she willed the image of Kenzie to fade, but the thought of her poor, tormented friend slashed at her with razor-sharp claws. She couldn't let Kenzie suffer on her behalf.

  She padded down the hall to her bedroom, knowing what she had to do. The phone Quinn had given her lay in the drawer where she'd stashed it the first day she'd arrived. She pulled it out, her insides nauseated by distress. She dialed Quinn's number and waited. After five rings, it went to voicemail.

  She hung up, frustrated. Where the hell was he? What good did it do to give her a phone if he wasn't going to answer? She closed her eyes, willing the rational side of her to emerge. She'd call his office. He'd said not to call in case it could be traced, but she knew better than anyone that it was unlikely the Marshals had been infiltrated.

  An office assistant answered, but was unable to give her information beyond the standard 'he's out of the office', and she didn't know when he'd return.

  A sick haze washed over her. Each second that ticked caused her friend great anguish. It could be hours before Quinn got back to her, and she couldn't wait.

  She dialed Kenzie's cell number and let her finger hover over the call button. It would be nearly impossible to trace her call. First, the pay-as-you-go number was an unknown. Second, she'd only stay on the phone for a minute. Just long enough to let Kenzie know she was okay. The odds were highly in her favor. And really, wasn't it her call to make if she wanted to take that chance?

  There was no point thinking through the consequences of her intended actions any further. She needed to spare Kenzie additional pain. That's what sisters did for each other.

  She pressed call.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Hello?" Kenzie's voice came across the line, uncertain and weary.

  Ariana couldn't hold back her sob. "It's me, Kenzie." She hadn't heard her friend's voice in so long, and the sound of it nearly undid her.

  "Oh my God."

  Tears streamed from Ariana's eyes. "I had to call. I had to let you know I'm okay." She grabbed the discarded tissue from the top of her dresser and wiped her nose.

  "Where are you?"

  "I can't say."

  "But you're okay?"

  "Yes, I'm good. I'm safe." Another sob escaped her. "Are you okay? I found your mom's obituary online."

  "It's been tough." There was no denying the grief in her friend's voice. "I'm better now that I've heard from you."

  Seconds ticked in her mind like a bomb ready to explode. "I need to go, Kenzie. I'll be back in Chicago for the trial in a few weeks. I can see you then. Please don't tell anyone we talked. No one."

  "Okay. Stay safe little sister."

  "I will. I love you."

  "Love you, too."

  Ariana hung up and then waited for the world to crash in on her.

  After a few moments of breathless anticipation, she convinced herself everything would be fine. She'd spared Kenzie, and that was worth the risk.

  She finished washing the breakfast dishes and dressed before she heard the high-pitched ringtone coming from her bedroom. She raced to answer it, knowing the ringing would not be a good thing.

  She clicked the answer button and immediately Quinn's voice jumped across the line. "Ariana? What's wrong?"

  She tried not to accept too much of the guilt his frantic voice created. She'd done the right thing. "Nothing. I'm fine."

  Several seconds of silence passed. "Then why did you call? This phone is for emergencies."

  "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. It was just…I had a moment of panic. I saw Kenzie on the news. She looked awful, Quinn. On the verge of a nervous breakdown."

  "Did you call her, Ariana?"

  She bit her tongue to keep from telling him. If he knew the truth, it would only complicate matters. Quinn would be forced to try to figure out another scenario for her, and she was out of options. "No." She had to be the worst person ever for lying to him. It sickened her that she'd discarded so easily her promise to herself to be honest. But telling the truth would create unnecessary trouble for everyone. "I wanted you to let her know I'm okay."

  He blew out a frustrated breath. "Fine. I'll give her a call. You're going to have to destroy that phone now, I hope you know. Milo will need to replace it."

  "I'm sorry, Quinn. I know I've made things difficult for you. I just couldn't let her suffer."

  "I know. It's okay. Let Milo know what he needs to do and have him send me the number of your new phone. I'm sorry I wasn't available when you called the first time. I'll make sure that doesn't happen again."

  "Thank you, Quinn."

  * * *

  "You can call me a mother-fucker, but don't call me dumb." Manny set down his phone and threw a wadded, hamburger wrapper at Tony. It hit his nephew in the chest and then bounced to the floor of the dank apartment he'd called home for the past four years.

  "You're a slob." Tony lifted his laptop long enough to scratch his balls. It was a shame how much he looked like his mother with dark hair and a big honking nose.

  "I'll clean it up later along with the rest of this place. Right now, I got a bitch to catch, and I got a hell of a lead. An out of state number just called Kenzie Harmon's cell phone. I'm betting it's our little honey."

  Tony widened his eyes. "You got a trace on her friend's phone? How the hell did you manage that?"

  Pride rushed through his veins, warm and powerful. "What? You don't think I got connections?" He feigned outrage. "This is why the boss picked me. He k
new I could get the job done."

  "Then let's go get her." Tony closed his computer and stood.

  "Can't yet. I need her to make one more call, could be to anyone, and I'll have her exact location." Manny slurped a long drink of soda and then belched. "But we can get our asses to Utah, so we'll be in the area for when she calls again."

  "You don't know it's the girl. It could be anyone."

  "Don't question me, dumb shit. It's her, and she's mine."

  Manny wondered if she knew her time had almost expired.

  * * *

  Four days passed and the world continued to revolve, much to Ariana's relief. She'd put the whole Kenzie phone call incident out of her mind. She wasn't going to ask Milo to buy her a new phone. She had two weeks left. Her father's men weren't going to find her there if they hadn't already.

  She didn't want Milo to know she'd talked to Quinn or Kenzie. He'd overreact and worry without cause for her safety. Better that she let things alone. She was safe, and her home life had settled into a comfortable existence with Milo. It seemed they'd found their middle ground, a place where they could enjoy each other's company while keeping enough distance between them to discourage any action caused by their attraction. They'd both vowed to keep things professional which disappointed Ariana, but also made things less strained. It was for the best.

  Saturday night arrived, and she was once again harassed by the nerve-wracking thoughts of meeting Milo's friends. Acting like a new bride while trying to conceal her identity would be a challenge. One she wasn't sure she was up to. But, despite her pleas, Milo insisted they go. Not showing up at the party would only raise more questions. He helped her pick clothes that wouldn't stand out from the crowd, and they'd rehearsed their story several times until they were both comfortable with it.

  Conversation was almost non-existent as she and Milo headed toward Scott's party. She couldn't bring herself to act like she didn't have a care in the world. Milo appeared preoccupied as he drove them straight toward the waning afternoon sun, the bright light harsh in her eyes. A few hills and turns later, he swung into the drive of a dilapidated, old farm house. The years had worn away any paint that might have covered the barn along with most of the whitewash on the house. Remnants of broken glass remained in a few of the windows while tall weeds owned the surrounding property and grew through what was left of the wooden porch.