Red Nights

by Shari J. Ryan

  She opens the door a crack. I can see an inch of her face behind the chain. “Who is it?” she asks.

  “Me,” I croak. “I got you your job back as Sur Le Feu.” It’s my peace offering.

  “Thanks,” she groans, “but I don’t want to talk to you.”

  I shove my fingers into the small opening, “Aspen, please?”

  “God,” she exhales. “You’re so annoying. Move your hand so I can open the damn door.” I pull my fingers out and the chain on the door rattles, giving way, as the door swings open. By the time I walk inside, she’s already plopped down on her couch. I’m a bit surprised to see her apartment is still clean. “What do you want?”

  I sit down next to her, pulling a leg up as I face her. “I was wrong to accuse you of starting the fire.”

  She looks up through her lashes at me, the sadness encompassing her hazel eyes. “I loved him,” she says. “I was in love with him.”

  I nod and take her hand in mine. “I know,” I say. “He was a lovable guy.”

  “He didn’t love me, though,” she says. “I wasn’t his type. It was all physical.”

  Be mature, Felicity. Don’t gag. “Oh,” I say.

  “That night when I was over and we were all watching that old movie you put on…what was it called?” Her nose crinkles in thought. “Oh, Top Gun. Anyway, you got called into work and had to leave.”

  “Yeah, I remember that night. I felt bad leaving you with him since you didn’t know him very well.”

  “I don’t even know how it happened. One minute I was watching Maverick serenade that chick in the bar and the next minute, I was lying beneath Blake with his tongue down my throat.” Her cheeks redden, but a smile pinches at her lips.

  “I don’t need to hear any more,” I laugh and shudder at the thought of Blake and Aspen together. “How long did it go on for?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe four months…whenever you were working and I wasn’t.” She pulls her knees into her chest. “It was amazing, but I wanted more. I wanted to be with him, and I didn’t want to keep it a secret.”

  “I’m sorry, Aspen.” I wrap my arm around her, pressing my head into the side of hers. “Love sucks.”

  “Anyway, I told him it hurt too much to continue hooking up when I felt the way I did, so we had one last hurrah the day we got caught in the freezer. Which was really dumb, by the way. It was friggin’ cold in there,” she giggles.

  “I’m sorry you lost him too.”

  “It was kind of hard pretending I wasn’t as upset as I was after he died. I just didn’t want to hurt you any more than you already were, so I didn’t say anything.”

  “I heard you crying in your room a couple of nights after the funeral.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “Felicity, I have to tell you something else.”

  A chill travels through me. Does she know something about the fire? Does she know something about Blake that I don’t know? Can I even handle this right now?”

  “What is it?” I sound sick. I feel sick. I’m definitely going to be sick.

  She cups her hand over her face and her eyes fill with water. “Last week…” she cries, “I…found out something pretty significant.”

  “Like what?” I ask, feeling my face tighten and my neck fill with heat.

  “We had stopped being careful. I was on the pill. But…well, you know how forgetful I can be.”

  Oh my God.

  “You’re pregnant?” The words come out in a whisper, shock sucking all of the air out of me.

  She takes my hand and lays it over her stomach. “It’s Blake’s.”

  I cry for what could have been, what isn’t, and what will be now. Blake left a part of him with us, and for that I have to be grateful. He would have been a wonderful father. My chest heaves and tears roll down my cheeks, a combination of happiness and sadness.

  “Whether it’s a girl or a boy, I’m naming the baby Blake,” she says, crying along with me.

  I wrench my arms around her neck as tears continue to spill out. “I’m horrible for what I did to you.” I try to catch my breath, but I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. “I’m going to be here for you—both of you.” But as those words come out of my mouth, I realize, I may miss out on this child’s life while I rot in prison for killing his or her father.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I FINALLY CALL the lawyer Hayes has recommended. Earnst’s latest warning was a much-needed kick in the butt. I obviously need to be more prepared and better protected from whatever comes next, which I pray is nothing.

  The receptionist made the firm sound upscale, and less like that bozo, Mr. Williams. Maybe this new guy isn’t available around the clock, but he told me we could meet this morning for a consultation. He recommended we chat before I decided to hire him, so I can bring him up to speed on the case. I turn down the street where his office is located and my phone buzzes in the cup holder. I’m hoping it’s Hayes when I pick it up without looking at the caller ID. “Hey, Liss.” Now I know it’s not.

  “Oh…hey, Tanner.”

  “Feeling any better? I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

  I swallow hard, thinking before I speak. “Yeah, I feel better today.”

  “Why don’t you come back over this afternoon before work?” he asks.

  Think quickly. “I have a doctor’s appointment, actually. Rain check?”

  “Oh.” The disappointment in his voice is clear. “Sure. We can do it another time.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for checking on me.” And the question arises again. How in the world would he set my house on fire? It’s Tanner. Soft spoken, kind-eyed, Tanner.

  I pull into the lot against a tall brick building. God, I hope this guy can help me.

  The elevator dumps me into an office covered in dark wood and a metallic finish. Very upscale, which likely means this guy will eat away at my life savings…or what little I have left.

  I stop at the welcome desk in front of a woman around my age. Her hair is pulled tightly into a knot at the nape of her neck, and her make-up is simple but gives her a pointed appearance. Her clothes are high-end boutique style, and I feel unkempt in front of her. I should have dressed better.

  She presses a finger over her earpiece and holds up another one, telling me to wait. “Of course, Sir. I will take care of that,” she says. She even sounds like she went to some kind of finishing school.

  She presses the button over her ear again and clasps her fingers together over her desk. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Michaels.”

  Her perfectly shaped brow arches at my request. She’s trying to judge me, but considering I’m the queen of judging, I know exactly what’s going through her head right now. She’s probably wondering how I can afford this guy. I’m guessing I can’t. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Michaels?”

  “I do. I’m Felicity Stone.”

  “Have a seat, Miss Stone, he will be with you shortly.” As if I weren’t still standing before her, her focus darts to her computer monitor, her fingers nimbly dancing across the keyboard.

  I drop into a leather seat in the waiting area, mindlessly snatching a magazine off the table beside me. While I’m thumbing through a foodie magazine, the main door to the office opens and Hayes walks in, in a blue suit paired with brown Italian loafers. His hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing black thick-rimmed glasses I’ve never seen him in. His eyes settle on me, and he gives me a panty-dropping grin.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask in a hush.

  “Helping you. I’m your PI, remember?” He reaches his hand out to me, pulling me with him to the front desk. “Tell Michaels I’m here.”

  Miss Perfect stands up, straightening her dress over her hips. “Mr. Peyton, it’s nice to see you again.” She presses the button of her earpiece and informs whoever is on the other end that Mr. Peyton is here to see him. “You can go on in,” she gestures over to the large glass door, which clinks as we approach
it.

  Hayes’s hand closes around mine. “You’re in good hands here.”

  I look down at our hands, wanting to laugh at the double meaning. And I would if the situation were different. “I can’t afford this,” I whisper.

  He leans into me, his lips brushing against the top of my ear. “I’ll take care of it.” The old me wouldn’t accept this type of extravagance, but the new me is desperate, so I squeeze his hand to thank him.

  As we approach the end of the hall, he knocks on the last door. “Come in,” a voice says.

  Hayes opens the door and walks in, tugging me along with him. Wow. Michaels is young—for a lawyer this big, anyway. He looks around Hayes’s age, thirty or so. “How’s it going, man?” Michaels stands up and reaches out for Hayes’s hand, then mine. “Miss Stone.” His unblinking eyes pierce into mine, making me feel small among the two of them. “Have a seat, please.” He sits back down in his oversized leather chair and rests his clasped hands over his mahogany desk.

  Hayes reaches into his inside coat pocket, retrieves a large folded yellow envelope, and tosses it down in front of Michaels. “I’m hopeful that this case will come to an end, and we won’t need your services, but in case we do, I want her taken care of.” He sits back down and crosses his hands over his lap. “I think the contents of the envelope will help the situation.” I don’t know what’s in the envelope, but the photos I took yesterday are probably a good guess.

  Michaels pulls the contents out, a stack of papers, and the photos. I want to ask Hayes what’s on the papers, but now is not the time. While Mr. Michaels is flipping through each page, I give Hayes a questioning look, but he only winks in response as he places his finger over his lips.

  “You’ve done well, Peyton,” Michaels says. “Do you have contact information?”

  “For about half,” he says. “There won’t be any for the other half.”

  What does that mean?

  I’m still staring at Hayes, needing him to tell me what he found out. Who are they talking about?

  “You’ll need to call the families and ask them if they’d be willing to make a statement if the opportunity arises. Have you spoken with any of them yet?” Michaels asks.

  “I’ve reached a few of them and they’re quite eager to help. I marked the status of contact next to each name.”

  “I see that. I think you’re onto something.” Michaels slips all of the contents back into the envelope. “Miss Stone, could you please summarize the series of events up until this point?” He pulls out a recorder and presses the top two buttons.

  With my mind locked on what Hayes gave Michaels, I find it difficult to think clearly. I do my best, making sure not to leave any details out, including my history with Tanner. Once I finish talking, he presses the third button down and drops the recorder back into his drawer. “That’s all of it,” I say.

  Michaels stands up and clasps the top button on his suit jacket. “Well, I think you’re both going about everything the right way. I’m confident I can prove your innocence if it comes to it. However, I believe the case might be turned in a different direction fairly soon, as Peyton mentioned.” Whatever that means, I like the sound of it. “If for some reason this case escalates and you’re charged with arson, I will be happy to represent you. Of course, the choice is yours whether or not you’d like to retain my services.”

  Hayes and I both stand up, and I fumble to pull the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Well, your confidence is appreciated,” I say.

  “I must warn you, Miss Stone, my fees are on the higher end compared to some of the other attorneys in the area. However, I feel my track record proves my worth.”

  “Your fees won’t be an issue if this situation does, in fact, worsen,” Hayes says, looking over at me. “Felicity, are you comfortable with Michaels representing you if need be?”

  “Yes…I’d be happy to work with you.”

  “Perfect. Please keep me updated as more information becomes available.”

  Hayes reaches out to shake his hand. “It was good to see you again.”

  “How’s the hunt going?” Michaels asks Hayes. “Any other leads?”

  Hayes looks back and forth between Michaels and me, and then clears his throat. “Not at the moment.”

  “Well, if you need anything you know how to reach me.”

  Hayes takes my hand and ushers me out the door. “Thank you again,” I say from halfway out the door.

  * * *

  As we reach the parking lot, Hayes looks as if he’s about to say good-bye without further explanation of anything. “I appreciate you being here,” I say.

  “Michaels will take good care of you.”

  “I’m uncomfortable with you paying his fee. I’m sure there are good, affordable lawyers in the area.”

  The cold snap breaks and his warm hands find my cheeks. “If it comes down to it, which I’m hoping it won’t, I want you to let me help you.”

  “You’re only working part time right now. I can’t.”

  “I have plenty saved up. Please let me help you.”

  I don’t respond. It’s too much, but it doesn’t seem as though he’s expecting a response as his lips find mine.

  I pull away a bit. “Why would you do this for me?”

  His thumb sweeps over my cheek. “Because.” He looks deeply into my eyes, his brows dipping into his lashes. “I love you, Blondie-locks.”

  Hearing him say that makes me feel as if someone’s reaching into my chest and gripping my heart, squeezing it so hard it feels like it might burst.

  He loves me…

  I think I’ve loved him since the moment he looked up at the stars with me. My eyes feel large as they focus on his and the now defined love pouring from his expression. “I love you, too,” I whisper.

  He pulls my face toward his, his lips meeting mine. I feel his heart beating against my chest, and my heart beating against his. This is so real, and so right, and I’ll be damned if I lose this battle. That would be the real punishment. Missing out on this. On him.

  On us.

  * * *

  We grab a couple of sandwiches and bring them to the park. Our park. He unbuttons his suit jacket. The white shirt against his growing tan makes me want to pull him up against me and never let go. “I can’t believe you love me,” I say, throwing a straw at him.

  “I can’t believe you’ve agreed to be the second lady in my life,” he laughs, pulling his jacket off and draping it over the side of the wall.

  “I guess second place will have to do. I wouldn’t dare compete with the first Lady.” He nods his head with silent laughter.

  We sit quietly for a few minutes, eating our sandwiches and looking out over the city. I’ve probably spent more time looking at the way the sun reflects in his eyes than I have taking bites, but they both seem to satisfy my appetite.

  He looks over at me while taking a sip of his soda. “I saw the look on your face when I gave Michaels those papers.”

  “You’re not going to tell me what they are, are you?”

  “If I told you, you’d lose sleep and it would scare the shit out of you. And you’d feel sicker than you do right this second. Do you still want to know?”

  Of course I want to know. “Yes,” I say without hesitation.

  “I wouldn’t want to know this,” he says. “I just want to keep you safe right now.”

  “I want to know,” I tell him.

  “I believe Tanner is a very dangerous man. But I need more evidence to prove it, and in order to get more evidence, I need a search warrant.”

  “Whatever you found already isn’t enough?”

  “Let’s just say the guy is good at what he does. But I do think we’ll be able to get that search warrant. So I don’t want you to worry.”

  All I heard is that we don’t have enough evidence to clear my name yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  IT’S JUST MY LUCK that construction would begin right next door only a couple of mon
ths after moving into this place. It’s so loud everything in my apartment is shaking. Although, I guess I can’t complain too much since I stay with Hayes most of the time, but still, I just wanted to get some bills paid, and I can’t concentrate.

  I open up the slider and step out onto the balcony, feeling the deep rumble of what must be a jackhammer pounding through gravel, beat through my head and chest. God. How long does it take to demolish a building? It’s been a week now. I lean over the side to see what’s going on, and…

  * * *

  “How much does it hurt?” Hayes asks, running his fingers through my loose waves. Aspen climbs into the bed beside me and pulls the sheets up to her neck too.

  “A lot,” I say, which is totally downplaying how I really feel because my whole body aches.

  “You’re lucky you only broke your arm, Blondie-locks,” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What were you doing out on your balcony anyway?”

  “You’re not smoking again, are you?” Aspen asks.

  “No,” I croak out. “I was checking out the construction next door. It was so loud; I wanted to see what was going on. All I did was lean over the side and the wooden slats broke I guess. And I fell.”

  “Those railings don’t just break like that,” Hayes says.

  “Well, mine did.” I know what Hayes is thinking, and I know what he’s insinuating. I have leaned on the balcony wall dozens of times and I’ve never even heard the thing creak.

  “Aspen, can you stay here with her? I want to get down to the scene.” Hayes doesn’t wait for either of us to respond. He kisses me on the head and jets out of my hospital room.

  “It sucks that this is how I have to meet the infamous Hayes Peyton,” she sighs. “But I can see why you’d want to keep him all to yourself.” She fans herself with her hand while leaning back to watch him walk down the hall. “Smokin’!”