“You sure?” He gave her fingers a squeeze and let go.
“I am.” Her voice was as soft as her gaze on his face. “Y’all can bring me back something.”
“Okay.” He leaned over to brush his mouth across Lee’s tiny cheek. “We won’t be long.”
In the hallway, Tori wrapped her arm around his waist and hugged him on their way to the elevators. “So what sounds good? My treat.”
“Anything’s fine. We can walk down to the diner.” He punched the call button. He cleared his throat as the car arrived with a quiet ding. “You could call Cookie, see if he has time to join us.”
She stared at him as they entered the elevator, then smiled. “I’m sorry. What did you say? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“Tori.” He leaned against the wall, weariness etched into each movement. “Just call him if you’re going to.”
With a light laugh, she retrieved her cell from her purse, and using the speaker function, dialed Mark. He picked up on the second ring, but didn’t give her a chance to speak.
“Not now, honey,” he said, his words competing with a burst of excited male chatter and what she thought was Stanton Reed’s full laugh. “I’ll call you back.”
The line went dead and she stared at her phone. This was what she hated about dating a cop, the way it infiltrated every aspect of their lives. She lifted her gaze to Tick, who’d come to full alertness, speculation in his dark gaze.
“Wonder what that was about?” Not wanting to admit how miffed she was, she dropped the phone in her bag with a nonchalant air.
“No clue.” The elevator shuddered to a stop and he held the door with a hand to let her precede him. A grin played about his mouth. “But we can go by the department on the way to the diner.”
She rolled her eyes. She should have known he wouldn’t be able to resist.
The walk to the courthouse square only took a few minutes. Tick mounted the steps two at a time, stopping to hold the door for her. Even in the small foyer, a cacophony of laughter and energy swelled from the squad room.
“Hey, Miss Lydia.” Tick stopped to kiss her cheek. “What’s up?”
Lydia waved toward the hallway. “They made a drug bust early this afternoon and they’re playing the video from Troy Lee’s car.”
Tick’s brows lifted. “Troy Lee made a drug bust? Come on, Tor, I gotta see this.”
Tori trailed him. She didn’t get this part, the way they enthused over an arrest. The laughter and conversation grew louder as they approached the squad room, blending with the tinny sound of recorded voices.
“I’m telling you, it was beautiful.” Sheer glee colored Mark’s voice. He leaned against his desk, gaze trained, like every other man’s in the room, on the portable TV-DVD set up on the counter. “Textbook chase technique.”
On the screen, driver’s-vantage footage from a patrol car played, depicting a small car racing down Highway 3. Curvy, dangerous, widow-maker Highway 3. From the voices, she could tell Mark had been in that car with Troy Lee at what looked like incredible speeds.
And they were excited, laughing about it, like it was nothing more than an amusement-park ride. She didn’t get this part, either, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Exactly how fast were you going?” Arms crossed over his chest, Stanton leaned forward for a better look.
“On the curve, about eighty-five. When we hit the straightaway, close to a hundred.” Troy Lee grinned and held up his index fingers, a few inches apart. “The road looked like it was about that wide.”
Steve Monroe nudged Mark’s shoulder. “Has your ass unpuckered yet?”
A ripple of male laughter moved around the room. Mark shifted, pointing at the television. “This is where he takes off on Haven Road.”
Stanton caught sight of Tick and waved him forward. “Hey, Tick, come here. You have to see this.”
Tori followed behind him, watching as the car sped onto a familiar dirt road, Troy Lee still in chase. Noticing her, Steve moved from his spot next to Mark. With a quick glance in her direction, Mark pulled her closer, his arm behind her, hand resting lightly on her hip. He landed a quick kiss somewhere in the vicinity of her mouth, his gaze straying back to the television. “Hey, baby. Watch this. It’s unbelievable.”
That was certainly one word for it.
Dust obscured the action, the patrol car slowing, the Honda visible at the edges of the video as it came to a rest in the ditch. The camera shook, metal grinding on the audio as voices tumbled over one another.
“And Troy Lee destroys another patrol car.” Chris Parker’s deadpan comment brought forth another swell of laughter.
“The car isn’t destroyed. It just damaged the paint on the door. How is that my fault?”
“Because you were there and it’s easy to blame you?” Steve offered.
“I think this makes up for killing the first patrol car, Troy Lee.” Stanton tapped Tick’s chest with the backs of two fingers. “Almost fifteen pounds of marijuana, several thousand dollars street value in bagged meth, and nearly five grand in cash in the car. Kid driving the car has felony warrants in Florida for multiple drug charges. Guess he was using 3 as the back way into Florida, to avoid I-75.”
Tick nodded. “Good deal, Troy Lee.”
Tori nudged Mark’s side. “We were going to get something to eat and thought you might like to join us.”
Mark’s brows lifted and he met Tick’s gaze before Tick shrugged in one of their silent communications she’d witnessed more times than she could count. A smile quirked at Mark’s mouth. “Yeah, I could take an hour.”
Outside, she paused to pull her sunglasses from her bag. Tick and Mark descended the steps behind her, talking in low voices.
“So has your ass unpuckered yet?” Fairly certain Tick’s words weren’t meant for her ears, Tori shook her head. Men.
Mark laughed quietly. “Man, he wasn’t kidding about how narrow that road looked at that speed. Let me tell you, I don’t like not being the one behind the wheel.”
“And you call me a control freak.”
She turned to pin them with a look. “Can we go, please?”
Once they reached the diner and ordered, she ran a fingertip around the rim of her tea glass. “I can’t believe you’re this excited over something so dangerous.”
In the booth beside her, Mark stilled. His gaze lifted to Tick’s, then shifted to her. “Honey, this is what I do.”
“Well, I get that, and I get it’s dangerous sometimes.” She frowned. “But I don’t get why you’re all acting like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.”
“Adrenaline.” Tick sipped at his coffee. “It’s hard to explain, Tori, unless you get a rush from it.”
“Tori, baby, listen.” Atop the table, Mark took her hand in his. “Troy Lee handled that car better than anyone I’ve seen in, well, ever. I was as safe as possible and everything went well. Don’t worry.”
“It’s kind of hard not to, when you’re off—”
“Hey, Cookie, heard that chase on the radio earlier.” The paramedic who stopped by their table had a pleasant, earnest face under close-cropped sandy hair. Jim…something. Tyrone, Tyrell. Something with a T and a y. The smiling blonde holding his hand seemed familiar, but it took Tori a couple of seconds to place her. Rhonda, the new teller at the bank. “Sounds like y’all had some excitement going on.”
Mark shifted and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, guess so.”
“Hey, have you met my wife?” With a proud, eager grin, he drew her forward. “Rhonda, honey, this is Mark Cook—we all call him Cookie—and Tick Calvert. They’re with the sheriff’s department.” His gaze jumped to Tori. “And I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“Tori, right?” Rhonda extended a hand. “You’ve come through my line a couple of times at the bank.”
With a warm smile, Tori shook her hand. “That’s right. So you’re new to Coney?”
“Yes, and I love it.” Practically glowing, Rhonda turned i
nto Jim’s side, patting his chest, providing her wedding rings with maximum exposure and sparkle. “Jimmy and I met while he was in Biloxi, and we had a whirlwind courtship.”
“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Jim touched her cheek with a reverent fingertip.
“How romantic.” Tori’s smile widened. They were so cute together. Mark coughed into his hand, and she turned to find him and Tick doing the unspoken communication thing again, with a series of looks and lifted brows. Ignoring them, she focused on Jim and Rhonda again. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too.” Rhonda waggled her fingers in a wave, again flashing the diamond on her left hand and pulled Jim toward an empty table. “Come on, honey.”
Tick shot a quick glance at Mark. “Is that the same ring he—”
“That would be the one.” Mark lifted his water for a slow sip.
“What an ass.” Tick stared after the couple with disbelief glinting in his eyes. “He’s not even sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” Tori shook out her napkin and placed it in her lap. “And what was with the eyebrows and the—” She gestured to indicate invisible words. “Y’all were almost rude. They’re cute as all get out. What does he have to be sorry for?”
Mark’s utter stillness beside her sank in and she looked sideways to find him sitting, eyes closed, elbow propped on the table, while he pinched the bridge of his nose. She swung her attention to her brother, who was suddenly the picture of discomfort, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and looking anywhere but at her.
Foreboding shivered through her. “What is going on?”
“I’m going to head back to the hospital.” Tick slid from the booth.
Confused, Tori turned over a palm, face up. “You haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’ll get Shanna to pack it to go for me and eat with Cait.”
Mark dropped his hand to glare at him. “Thanks a lot, man.”
Fixing him with a hard look, Tick shrugged. “Hey, you made your—”
“Don’t. Say. It.” A muscle flicked in Mark’s jaw, and Tori shifted, the swift, rolling animosity between the two making her stomach flutter.
Tick lifted both hands in surrender, but his expression didn’t soften until he leaned down to kiss Tori’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
He strode to the counter, waited a moment for his sandwich to be packed up with Caitlin’s, then disappeared outside. Tori counted slowly to ten, lining up her silverware while she did so. Once the wild nerves in her belly were calmed, she took a breath and looked up to meet Mark’s shuttered gaze. “Do you want to explain that to me? I’m utterly lost, but I don’t like what just happened.”
He jerked his head toward the back corner, where Jim and Rhonda were canoodling. “You don’t know Jim well, do you?”
“No. I’ve seen him at the ER couple of times when I was working an assault, but that’s it. Why?”
“He was engaged, for the most part, to Angel Henderson.”
Oh no. Not that name again. She closed her eyes as her stomach dropped, suddenly hollow and hurting. Maybe she didn’t want answers after all. Maybe she just wanted to forget Angel Henderson had ever existed. She exhaled, counting once more.
“Tori.” At his quiet voice, she lifted her lashes and met his gray eyes with reluctance. A small frown drew his brow together. “Please don’t.”
“So what does he have to be sorry for—” She dropped the question, dates falling into place. “You said he was engaged to Angel, and you said, that night…” She swallowed, pushing the words out. “That night, she was on the rebound.”
He nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “Jim went to Biloxi one week, came back with Rhonda the next, asked Angel for the ring.”
Ouch. She darted a look at the lovey-dovey couple once more. What had seemed romantic now appeared tarnished, a little sordid and tattered around the edges. “Tick’s right. He’s an ass.”
With a harsh sound of disgust, Mark lifted his glass. “That makes two of us.”
She covered his wrist, caressing, soothing. “At least you apologized, and you said she was okay with that.”
“Yeah.” He set the glass down with a thump and turned to her, his eyes stormy. “I’d undo it if I could, Tori, make it so it never happened. But I can’t.”
“I know. It just feels like every time I turn around, we’re running up against it again. I end up feeling jealous and insecure, and I hate that because I don’t want to be those things.” She ran her fingertip over the slight cleft in his chin and sighed. “I just want to be with you.”
“I know, baby.” He tugged her into his arms and folded her close. “I’m sorry, I really am, Tor.”
She toyed with the hair at his nape for a second, then pulled back on a wave of regret. Coney was a gossipy small town and he worked in a political job. Shanna appeared with their food. With some of the edginess gone, Tori lifted the bread and sprinkled pepper over her tomato. “At least we don’t move in the same social circles, so we’re not constantly bumping into one another. That would be awkward.”
Mark froze in the act of spreading mustard on his bun. “Yeah, about that…”
All well-being evaporated. “Oh Lord, Mark, what now?”
He cleared his throat. “Troy Lee’s dating her. Pretty seriously too.”
“Which means we will be running into her socially.” Shoulders slumping, she dropped the top piece of bread back on her BLT. Great. Just…great. She tucked her hair behind her ear and summoned a smile for him. She would darn well learn to deal with this. The insecurity was her problem and she’d conquer it, even if it killed her. She wouldn’t let it push him away. “Well, Mama says what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”
He returned her strained smile with one of his own. “You know that applies to us as a couple too, right?”
“Yes, I do. We’ll be okay.” She patted his knee. “Now eat your sandwich. We both have to get back to work.”
The pounding bass of Big & Rich spilling from the jukebox did little to help Angel’s tension headache. Although Monday was a busy day for her, it normally was the bar’s slowest night. However, tonight a larger-than-normal crowd answered her prayers to be kept busy. Even with the noise and the people, her mind weaseled out of its box of blankness.
She smiled and teased and bantered with her regulars, pulled boxes from the supply room, helped Shanna, who worked two jobs and was the best waitress she’d ever had, wait tables. Through it all, her stubborn brain circled back and around and over itself.
Five, six, maybe seven weeks. Do this, don’t do this. Do this and keep it. Do this and give it away, to a couple who could…
Another twisted game of eeny-meeny-miney-moe. Chilled, she rubbed her palms down her arms. And she’d thought herself so damn responsible, so careful, taking precautions. She was no better than the girls they’d all talked about in high school, the ones who let a guy beneath their skirts then paid the price of whispers and ruined lives.
“Wow. Good thing you felt well enough to come in after all.” Julie settled a box of Jim Beam on the bar and began stocking. She had to yell over the din. “Do you believe this place tonight? Who opened the floodgates?”
“Stop complaining. This is what I like to see. This is what makes your paycheck, baby.” She moved to the end of the bar to take an order. She darted a look up at the clock over the mirrored wall with its glass shelves full of liquor bottles. Eleven twenty. Before today, she’d have been vibrating with anticipation, knowing Troy Lee was off duty, knowing she’d see him soon. Tonight, each minute after eleven filled her with a sick dread.
Yes, getting involved with him, letting herself fall deeper and deeper into him so fast…that had been responsible too. Guess speeding got her in trouble in other places than the roads.
“Your man’s here.” Julie nudged her on the way back to the storage room.
Dismay crashed through her and she closed her eyes. Lord, please.
“Hey.”
Energy and pleasure vibrated in his voice. She couldn’t avoid this forever, might as well just deal with it. She lifted her lashes. The beauty of his grin, the sparkle of those gorgeous blues, slammed her with loss, and she sucked in a harsh breath, her throat hurting all over again. He leaned across the bar to kiss her. “Angel baby, wait until I tell you about my day.”
She wanted to wrap herself around him and cling. Instead, she folded her arms over her midriff and dug her nails into her skin. “Good, huh?”
“The best. Only thing that makes it better is you.” His thumb rubbed across her jaw in a firm caress. She swallowed. He couldn’t say these things, couldn’t be this way, not when she had to tell him… He jerked a hand over his shoulder. “Chris and Cookie came with me. We’re going to have a beer and hang out while I wait for you.”
Sweet Jesus. Her gaze shot over his shoulder, to the back booth Cookie always chose. Sure enough, he and Chris Parker sat there, Chris talking with his hands while Cookie nodded, grinning.
Somehow, she dragged up enough presence of mind to straighten and try to appear normal. “Corona for you, Bud Light for Cookie. What does Chris drink?”
“Bud Light for him too.”
“Here you go.” She pulled the bottles, her hands shaking only a little, and set them before him.
He leaned forward to kiss her again. “Thanks, babe.”
She watched him walk away, threading his way through tables and patrons to meet his coworkers, his wonderful grin flashing as he joined in on whatever minicelebration was going on there. Her eyes prickled, her nose stuffing up as a wave of tears swamped her. Watching him walk away for good, losing him for good, was going to be so damn hard.
The last hour of the night dragged, her every synapse tuned in to him with excruciating awareness. She hurt, all over, as though her confusion and misery manifested itself physically. As the clock ticked nearer to one, patrons drifted out, and Shanna and Julie started on nightly cleanup. Angel busied herself, tallying the day’s paperwork, preparing a deposit, shoring up her flagging nerves.
Troy Lee’s warm, rich tones wafted over her as he walked Shanna and Julie to their cars. The big wooden door closed behind him and his footsteps whispered over the scarred floor. Her stomach plummeted. Lord, this was it.
Fall Into Me: Hearts of the South Page 16