Shooting Dirty

by Jill Sorenson

  “Where’s Shawnee?” Ace asked, curious.

  “She’s not feeling well.”

  Ace remembered that she’d looked a little under the weather the last time he’d seen her.

  “She’s got cancer,” Bill said.

  He felt the bouquet he’d been clutching drop out of his hand. “What?”

  “She’s got cancer. Some kind of leukemia.”

  “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. She told me last week. That’s why I came today instead of her. She didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Jesus,” Ace said, raking his fingers through his hair. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “They don’t know. Depending on how well the treatment works, she might live two years or she might live twenty.”

  He watched Skye frolic at the shore, stunned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Are you?”

  He was, but fuck Bill and his skepticism. Ace wasn’t the one who’d hinted at offing her. “What about Skye?”

  “I talked her into letting you take her.”

  Ace was at a loss for words. “You talked her into it?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a pain in my ass, and I’m tired of dealing with you.”

  Ace couldn’t tell if Bill meant that. Bill’s poker face was so dead, he’d need electroshock therapy to reanimate it.

  “You have to apply for termination of guardianship and prove you’re a fit parent. So move out of that shitty trailer, find a nicer place and get your paperwork together. I can vouch for your sobriety and your financial stability.”

  “Will Shawnee fight it?”

  “No,” Bill said shortly, glancing at Skye. “She wants grandparent visits. You’ll have to bring Skye here if she’s not feeling well enough to drive. And she said something about a gradual transition.”

  Ace couldn’t believe it. He was getting his daughter back. This was too good to be true. His heart lodged in his throat and his eyes filled with tears. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “Start by growing some fucking balls. You’re weeping in public.”

  Ace laughed, wiping the tears away. He had no idea if Bill was serious or not, but he laughed anyway. He laughed until he cried. Then he just cried, and he didn’t really give a damn what Bill thought about it.

  Getting Skye back was the only thing that mattered.

  Chapter Thirty

  One month later.

  Janelle hadn’t seen Ace in more than six weeks.

  He called her every Sunday morning, like clockwork. They’d had the same conversation over and over again. He asked if he could come by to talk. She said no. He accepted her answer without argument. She got the impression that he could endure ten years of rejections on the off chance that someday she might change her mind.

  It would be kinder to tell him not to call again, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut him off completely. She liked hearing his voice. She liked his quiet determination.

  Last week, she’d hesitated an extra second before she said no. She wanted to know how he’d been doing, and she longed to share her daily struggles with him. It got harder every time, instead of easier.

  She missed him.

  They’d been so good together. In the motel room, he’d said that no one would ever fuck her like he did. She feared he was right. But she couldn’t have a relationship with him, no matter how hot he was, or even how much he loved her. She had to do what was best for Jamie. Seeing her son in danger had driven that point home, hard.

  The first week after Salvation Mountain had been tough. Janelle was numb one minute, crying the next. She couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Anxiety gripped her at odd hours. She had recurring nightmares about Jester. She got nervous during routine tasks, like going to the grocery store or driving Jamie to school.

  Tiffany seemed just as traumatized by the harrowing experience, if not more. She’d limped around on her sprained ankle for a week, chain-smoking joints. She’d never explained to Janelle how she managed to hide from Pigpen, or where he’d gone. The guy was still missing, and Tiffany didn’t want to talk about it. She’d lost weight.

  Janelle was worried about her.

  Investigator Vargas and his partner had dropped by her mother’s house one afternoon. They’d shown her a mug shot of Jester and asked if he was the man who shot Shane. She hadn’t been prepared for the visit, even though Ace had warned her. She’d been assaulted by images of Ace in the dirt road, his shirt soaked in blood. She’d thought of her dead stepfather and all the awful things he’d done to her. Then she’d studied the picture of Jester and said yes, lying to the police in a deceptively calm voice.

  She wasn’t sure they believed her, but they were polite. Vargas didn’t strike her as a stickler for the truth. Owen claimed he’d been suffering from a head injury and blurred vision at the time of the shooting. He couldn’t identify Shane’s killer. As far as the DA’s office was concerned, the case was solved.

  Time to move on.

  Janelle renewed her massage therapy license and got a job at an upscale resort in Palm Springs. It was peak tourist season, so she’d been snapped up immediately, few questions asked. The work was satisfying and the pay was decent. She missed the quick money and performance aspects of dancing, but she was getting along.

  She planned to look for an affordable trailer park in the area. The long commute from her mother’s house was killing her. She also just wanted to get away from everything. Slab City was too close for comfort. Wherever she looked, she saw the ghosts of motorcycles and black-haired men. Her heart ached whenever she passed by the motel they’d stayed in. There were too many memories near the Salton Sea, good and bad.

  Jamie wasn’t excited about moving—until she told him about the sports programs in Palm Springs. There was a huge pool of soccer players and several competitive leagues. The local Boys and Girls Club had a recreation center with an air-conditioned, indoor soccer arena. Jamie hadn’t needed much more convincing.

  Things were...settled.

  When Sunday rolled around again, and Ace didn’t call, Janelle felt deflated. She’d been working every other weekend, but she had this one off. She spent Saturday with Jamie at a soccer tournament. He had a school project to work on today. She moped around the kitchen, staring at the blank screen on her cell phone.

  “Why don’t you just call him?” her mother said.

  “Call who?”

  Renata gave her a look that said Janelle wasn’t fooling anyone. Then she poured them each a cup of tea and sat down. “Maybe he deserves a second chance,” she said, adding honey. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  Janelle hadn’t told her mother everything about Ace, but she knew he was an ex-con with a checkered past. The day Jamie had gone missing, she’d said he’d been shooting BB guns with a friend in Slab City. Renata had no idea how much danger he’d been in.

  “I can’t date another criminal, Mom.”

  “Isn’t he reformed? He said he was in the construction business.”

  “He is.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Janelle just shook her head, unable to say more. At least Jester was dead now, and no longer a threat. The war between the two clubs was over, according to Tiffany. That didn’t mean Ace was safe from retaliation, however. He would always be connected to Wild Bill and embroiled in the outlaw life.

  “Does he do drugs?”

  “No. He’s been clean for years.”

  “He looks healthy,” her mother said, sipping her tea. “Big shoulders.”

  Janelle didn’t want to think about Ace’s shoulders, or any other impressive part of him. “I’m too busy to worry about dating. I need to focus on Jamie.”<
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  “Jamie’s just fine.”

  That was true. Jamie’s attitude had improved drastically since the incident with Jester. He’d called Owen and had another long talk with him about Shane. Owen had corroborated Ace’s story about the shooting. Jamie seemed to have come to terms with the fact that his father had been a violent, troubled person who’d nevertheless loved Jamie as much as he was able to.

  She didn’t know how Jamie felt about her relationship with Ace. She’d told him she wasn’t going to see Ace anymore, and he hadn’t acted surprised. But nor had he expressed any disapproval. The last time Ace called, Jamie had been nice to him. Then he’d handed the phone to Janelle and said, “It’s your boyfriend.”

  “You’ve always done what was best for Jamie,” Renata said. “Your happiness matters, too.”

  Janelle stared into her teacup, her throat tight.

  Renata patted her hand. “I hate to see you run away from a good man just because I trusted the wrong ones.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Janelle said, although Renata had a point. Her childhood abuse and rocky relationships with men would always be an issue. The biggest obstacle between Janelle and Ace wasn’t Jamie, or Ace’s outlaw ties. It was the wall around her heart. When she’d seen Ace soaked in blood, something had gone dark inside her. She’d had a love/hate relationship with Shane, but his death had affected her deeply. She couldn’t witness any more violence, so she’d gone into survival mode. Emotional hibernation.

  It was what she did.

  Janelle drank her tea in silence. Her mother took the hint and dropped the subject. Then she suggested they go shopping. Janelle needed some new work shoes—ones that didn’t have six-inch heels—so she agreed easily.

  She changed into a soft jersey dress with a sash that accentuated her slim waist. She paired the outfit with cowboy boots in her usual style. Hint of feminine, hint of ass-stomping. She left her hair down and dabbed on some makeup. Then she studied her reflection. She looked older, as if the past six weeks had aged her six years. Either that or she was just seeing herself more clearly, staring at a clean slate.

  The doorbell rang, startling her out of her reverie. She walked down the hall and glanced through the peephole. Ace was standing there. She gasped, whirling around. Her mother was in the kitchen, wearing a guilty expression. She must have known he was coming.

  Jamie emerged from his room. “Who is it?”

  When Janelle didn’t respond, he brushed by her and answered the door himself. Jamie lifted his chin in greeting and glanced at Janelle. It was her call. If she didn’t want to see Ace, she could just shake her head.

  She squared her shoulders and stepped forward. She was an adult. She could get rid of Ace without the help of her twelve-year-old son. But as soon as she saw him up close, all thoughts of sending him packing fled. He was wearing that sexy snap-button shirt with new jeans. He looked so unfairly hot. He smelled good, like soap and warm cotton, and he had a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

  His eyes seemed bluer, livelier. One of them had a red fleck in the inside corner. The reminder of how bloody and beaten he’d been the last time she’d seen him made her stomach flutter with unease.

  “Wow,” he said, as if there was something remarkable about her appearance.

  “Wow?” Jamie repeated.

  Ace’s gaze, which had started to travel down her body, jerked back up. “Sorry, I meant to say hello.”

  “You missed your mark,” Jamie said. “By a lot.”

  “Do you mind if I talk to your mother?”

  Jamie’s chest puffed up at the question. He appreciated being treated like the man of the house. “I guess it’s okay.”

  She squeezed her son’s shoulder and he walked away, giving them privacy.

  As soon as they were alone, Ace cleared his throat and thrust the flowers at Janelle. “These are for you.”

  Janelle gave them a passing glance. “Thanks.”

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe she was there. “You look even better than I remember.”

  So did he. She studied his broad shoulders and trim waist, his long legs in dark denim. Lord have mercy. She wondered if he had that brown leather belt on, the one he’d secured her wrists with.

  “I thought maybe if I asked in person, you’d agree to come for a ride with me.”

  Her attention shifted from his lean, hard body to the words he was saying. It was difficult to deny him on the phone. In person, it was damned near impossible, and not because she had trouble saying no. She wanted to say yes, desperately.

  “It’s just a ride, to catch up and talk.”

  It wasn’t just a ride. He was asking for a chance to be her man again. She nibbled on her lower lip, knowing she shouldn’t encourage him. She hadn’t changed her mind. He was connected to dangerous people, and she needed to protect her son. She couldn’t bear it if Jamie turned out like Shane.

  “I’m sorry about what happened,” Ace said, his voice gruff. “I’d rather cut off my hand than cause you any more pain or trouble, so I won’t keep coming back here. I just had to see you, one last time.”

  Janelle gripped the bouquet, wavering. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  “You will?”

  “Let me put these in some water,” she said.

  Her mother, who’d been hovering nearby, rushed forward to take the flowers. “I’ll do that for you, dear.”

  Ace touched his temple in greeting. “Hello, Ms. Parker.”

  “Hello, Aaron.”

  Janelle grabbed her purse from the entryway table, her heart racing. She slipped out the door before she could come to her senses. It was just one ride. Hopefully, on him. Then she could say a proper goodbye.

  Yep.

  He gestured for her to precede him down the sidewalk, toward his truck. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him getting reacquainted with her ass. She stifled a nervous giggle as she climbed into the passenger side of his truck.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Cathedral City. If you don’t mind.”

  Janelle shrugged, not caring where they went. Cathedral City was a burgeoning little town between Indio and Palm Springs, about an hour away. She settled in for the ride, enjoying the wind in her hair. It was a beautiful late-winter day, sunny and cool. He turned on the radio and offered her some gum.

  “Nicotine gum?” she said.

  “I’m trying to quit smoking.”

  She smiled, taking her own gum out of her purse. “So am I. But that kind’s gross. You have to get the cinnamon flavor.”

  He accepted a candy-red square from her and chewed it. “I like mine better.”

  She popped one of the squares into her mouth, enjoying his company. It felt so good to be with him again. Even when they disagreed, it felt right. If only he wasn’t tied to Dirty Eleven, forever indebted to Wild Bill.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked, glancing at her.

  “Busy.”

  “I heard you got a new job.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Tiffany.”

  “You talk to Tiffany?”

  “I called her once, just to ask about you.”

  Janelle tamped down a surge of jealousy. Tiffany would never sleep with Ace. Would she?

  He arched a brow at her. “How do you like it?”

  “What?”

  “Your job.”

  “Oh. It’s okay. The hours are long and it’s hard work. Instead of aching calves, I get aching triceps.”

  “Are your customers nice?”

  She smiled, twining a lock of hair around her finger. “Nicer than the strip club regulars, and they tip almost as well.”

  “Men or women?”

  “Both, but mostly women.”

  He focu
sed on driving for a moment, increasing speed and shifting into a higher gear. She admired the play of muscle in his strong forearms. His cuffs were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a spiderweb tattoo. Veins stood out in harsh relief on the back of his hand. “Are you still thinking about getting your degree?”

  She pulled her gaze away. “Yes, actually. I found another school in San Bernardino with a PTA program.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Physical therapy aide. It doesn’t pay as well as a physical therapist, but the prerequisites are the same and I can get my degree in half the time.”

  “That sounds like a good compromise.”

  She nodded, excited about the option. “They accepted my application already. The classes start in September.” It would be difficult to balance her new job and a full course schedule, but she’d manage somehow. She always did.

  They talked about Jamie for a few minutes, and before she knew it they were driving through Cathedral City. The main drag was framed by desert cliffs, which had been carved through to accommodate new construction. Heavy black netting had been placed over the most dangerous areas to prevent rocks from falling on traffic. The netted cliffs were a thing of stark beauty, sort of pirate-like, a plundering of nature that nevertheless made an appealing visual on a scenic route.

  Ace left the highway and coasted down a side street until they reached a quiet neighborhood. Then he pulled into a driveway and turned off his engine.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, curious.

  “This is what I wanted to show you.”

  He got out of the truck, so she followed him to the front door of a modest house. It was an adobe-style stucco in pale brown. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. The space was empty of furniture and appeared to have been recently renovated, with basic white paint and soft gold carpet. There was a nice kitchen with gray granite countertops. The color scheme was a little bland, but it had potential.

  “There’s more,” he said, opening a sliding glass door. The backyard was good-sized, with a small patio and several date trees. “What do you think?”

  Janelle didn’t know what to say. It was a lovely single-family home in a perfect location. Her work was ten minutes away, and the PTA school was less than an hour. She’d been looking to move into the area, but she couldn’t pay even half the rent on a real house.