Walk Between the Raindrops [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Tymber Dalton

  “The parents?”

  “The mother. His father died a few years ago, I guess. I hated his parents. They were always making excuses for him. She tried to blame me and Mark for July’s murder and Matt’s disappearance. Fucking cunt. Said we framed Matt. Insisted her precious little baby would never do that, even though it later came out that Matt beat a girl up when he was fourteen, and they put him in a different school and were able to get his record sealed since he was a juvenile. Monster.”

  Sully’s grey gaze narrowed even as his lips curled in a smile. “Well, she was technically batting five hundred.”

  June couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess.” When she felt pain in her palms, she discovered she’d had her fists tightly clenched on the table, which was, she realized, why Sully was watching her so closely.

  When she unclenched her fists, she saw the half-moons deeply embedded in her palms from her nails.

  “Does this ever get easier?” she asked.

  He reached across the table to take her hands in his. Being it was Sully, and she knew him, she didn’t hesitate to let him. “Easier? I don’t know if that’s the right word. But you’re still very angry.”

  She nodded.

  He gently squeezed. “That kind of anger isn’t healthy. At all. Not this many years out. Immediately after, even for the first few years, yes, absolutely. Periodically, especially around anniversaries of the murder or birthdays or holidays? Sure. That’s normal. But to hold this level of anger when you know justice was rendered…that can destroy you.”

  “I want that woman to know what her ‘precious baby’ did.”

  “June, literally nothing you do can convince her he was guilty. So what purpose would it serve? The people who matter—the law—proved it was him. His DNA convicted him even without a trial.” His right eyebrow arched. “There was no doubt about what happened, based on what…was seen first-hand, maybe even heard, am I correct?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, then.”

  “Artisanal justice?”

  He smiled. “Exactly.” He squeezed her hands again before releasing them, sitting back in his seat, and nonchalantly glancing around to see where the waitress was. There were no other customers sitting near them, none close enough to hear their conversation. “There comes a time when you have to live for you. July would have wanted that, I’m sure. You had her back, and you made things right.”

  June stared out at the water. “There’s no way to make this right. It won’t bring her back.”

  “Exactly. You have a good life. Love your girls, your sister, your nieces, and Mark. Love your adopted family. July has been free of Matt for over two decades. Don’t let Matt keep you under his thumb for longer than he was alive. And don’t let him keep you held hostage any longer.”

  Outside, raindrops began to spatter on the river, soon turning its surface into a flat, matte carpet in its banks.

  “I wish I’d done more. I can’t help but think what if I’d cut class and gone home earlier?”

  “He might have killed you, too. Just because you were able to handle yourself doesn’t mean in different circumstances you would have fared any better. Or it might have delayed the inevitable conclusion. Men like that feel entitled and violence always follows them.”

  “It didn’t follow him,” she said. “It met him head on and chewed his ass up.”

  “Exactly.” When she returned her focus to him, she realized he was staring into her eyes. “If it hadn’t been July, it would have been someone else,” he said. “It always is with guys like that. And you could have video proof of what happened and there will still be at least one or two enablers in their circle of influence who will refuse to believe the evidence. You can’t let them into your head, either. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Back to artisanal justice?”

  He held up his glass of iced tea. “Exactly.” He took a sip.

  “They brought up a phone call Matt received from a pay phone that evening.”

  “And?”

  “Fortunately, the phone number they had used to get a lot of wrong-number calls. Apparently the guy who’d had it before them was a drug dealer who went to jail. That was…fortuitous. One loose end apparently tied. Tied tightly enough for the cops, at least.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “What if they figure out who took his truck and try to charge them? And from there they figure out…” She didn’t know what else to say and knew she didn’t have to. Sully was a former cop and a very smart man.

  She didn’t need to break out the hand puppets for him.

  “If they were going to do that,” he said, “they would have long before now. They go through cold cases, especially ones as heinous as that, every few years to see if there are any new testing protocols that might help them out, or new evidence. Like someone finally matching in a fingerprint or DNA database. Didn’t you say they didn’t get any usable prints from the truck?”

  “Yeah. The guy was smart enough to wipe things down. They found some old ones of July’s, mine, Matt’s, and even one of Mark’s. Then there were Matt’s parents and some friends of his, including his roommate and Stu’s girlfriend, but none they couldn’t identify and rule out. Even his parents admitted that yes, they’d seen me and Mark with Matt and July in the truck before. But none from the guy who took the truck.”

  “Or girl.”

  She shrugged. “They have a man on the video at the mall, but it was at night and not clear enough. He parked at the far edge of the lot, in the shadows, and skirted around into the bushes. They never figured out where he went from there or who he was. Rain washed his scent away. Couldn’t track it with dogs. They figure he must have had someone meet him and give him a ride.”

  “Well, hopefully that guy never made crime a profession after that night. Maybe hearing he took the truck of a suspected murderer scared him straight.” He leveled a finger at her, smiling. “Think about that. Scared Straight: Florida Edition.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “No, I don’t. But why court trouble? Hell, maybe someone who knew Matt, whose prints are in the truck, actually moved it. Maybe one of his buddies found it and thought it’d be a funny joke. Or maybe he confessed to whoever called him at the apartment and they killed him and moved the truck. Maybe he did kill himself, and some drunk or vagrant found the truck and took it, or some teenager went on a joyride. They’re all just as plausible a theory as any other. Occam’s Razor. Sometimes the simplest explanation that fits the facts is the right one.”

  “The guy stole a truck. Not exactly a choir boy.”

  “Or, he did you a favor. Look at it this way—at least you and Mark are still cleared as suspects because your prints and DNA were in the truck anyway from previously riding in it.”

  “That’s the only good thing about all of this.”

  * * * *

  After parting ways at the restaurant, June gassed up her car before heading to Sully, Mac, and Clarisse’s house to visit. Mac and Clarisse didn’t know they’d spoken, and it would have looked odd had they arrived at exactly the same time.

  Their kids were beautiful, two little boys and twin girls that nearly ripped June’s heart out when she thought about July.

  When she arrived home, she immediately started getting dinner ready for Mark. She was waiting in the hallway, naked and kneeling with her collar on, when he walked through the door.

  He set his laptop case down and, with a smile, pulled her up into his arms for a kiss. “There’s my beautiful girl.”

  June shoved all her worries away, basking in his presence, relieved to have him safely home once more.

  He reached between her legs, grinning as she gasped when he played with her clit. “Someone’s getting fucked after dinner,” he said.

  In fact, he grabbed her by her hair with the other hand and eased her back down onto her knees, his other fingers sliding into her mouth for her to suck.

  “On second thought�
��” He pulled her face against his hard cock, which pressed against the fabric of his slacks. “Take it out, baby.”

  She did, eagerly sucking him to the root, loving the sounds he made as she swallowed him.

  “Mmm. Good girl.” His hands clamped around her head and he took over, fucking her mouth, going deep, driving her hard into subspace as she held on to his legs and enjoyed it. “Someone’s…getting…an appetizer.” She tasted his hot cum pumping into her mouth and swallowed every drop, sucking, wanting more, wanting all of him.

  Finally, his grip loosened and he stroked her hair. “Good girl.” He helped her up and led her over to the table without zipping up. Instead of pointing her to her seat, he laid her out face up across the far end of the table. Then he sat between her thighs with her legs slung over his shoulders and held on tightly as he started eating her out.

  It was only after the third orgasm that he finally let her sit up, shaky, weak.

  He stood, a playful smile on his face. “Better?”

  She wrapped her body around his as she kissed him. “Always, Daddy.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Later that night, once they headed to bed, June curled up in Mark’s arms and pressed her head against his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heart beating there.

  Her rock.

  Her grizzly bear.

  Her mountain of a man.

  Her anchor.

  Her lighthouse.

  Her Higher Power.

  “We really need to have a long and serious talk,” he gently said.

  “I know, Daddy.”

  Times like this, she couldn’t help but give herself over to him. She knew there were two extremes at war within her, and sometimes the only smart thing to do was to concede the battle to the rage monster and let Mark be Mark.

  That meant letting him do what he did best, which was keep her grounded, and—usually—non-homicidal.

  “I know you can’t exactly take…everything in our lives to a therapist. But you can talk to me. You can always talk to me. About anything.”

  She pressed her cheek even more firmly against him but didn’t answer. There were things she didn’t want him to know. Not just so he had plausible deniability.

  Things she didn’t want him to know about her.

  The things she was capable of.

  Worried that it might be too much for him, and he might want to distance himself from her. For all of his ferocious looks, Mark was a kind, gentle, tender man at heart.

  Could he love her, all of her, if he knew the disturbing truth?

  He gently tipped her chin so she was forced to look him in the eyes. “I know. I know what happened that night. Not the details, but I’m no idiot. Why do you think I really refused to let you go to Gainesville to talk to Sonya’s boyfriend?”

  Shocked, she didn’t reply.

  She didn’t have to, because even though she had never told him what happened to Matt, she’d already suspected that was exactly why he hadn’t let her go that night. Because he knew how protective she was of their daughters after what had happened to July.

  Her anger issues.

  Retribution would have been tempting.

  Too tempting.

  “You’ve got some serious anger issues, sweetheart,” he said, giving voice to her thoughts once again in a spooky way. “Justifiably. I understand that. What can we do to start working on those? It’s well past time, and our girls are adults. We can’t change history or what happened, but we hopefully have a lot of great years ahead of us. I want them to be nothing but happy ones.”

  She wanted to deny it, to rage against the truth, to claim she didn’t need to change.

  It would have been lies.

  And one of their rules was that she was not allowed to lie to him.

  “I don’t know, Daddy,” she quietly admitted.

  “I saw what it did to you back then,” he said. “July’s death. What it did to Mom and Dad and May. I’ve seen what it did to you all these years. Matt…‘disappearing’ didn’t heal your anger and grief, did it? All it did was make things right for what happened.”

  She still couldn’t answer him.

  “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth—you knew Betsy’s ex was following you that morning when you went to Manasota Key, didn’t you?”

  June deflated as she stared into his green gaze. “Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

  “And did it take away your anger, doing that instead of calling the police and having him arrested?”

  A shudder rippled through her. She could barely force air out through her throat to make a sound. “No, Daddy.”

  “You put yourself in danger. Worse, you put Betsy in danger without her even knowing it. You took her consent from her. And innocent bystanders, had any of your shots gone wild, or he’d hurt someone else.”

  “I was—”

  He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “Do not lie to me, and do not justify to me. Yes or no. You put the two of you and others in danger, didn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Sully and I had a brief chat this afternoon over the phone,” he said.

  A cold wave filled her, chilling her heart. “And?”

  “He started kind of beating around the bush, asking how you were, if anything had changed lately, things like that. Awfully funny timing, all things considered. It didn’t take psychic powers for me to guess that you’d been up to talk to him alone today, but that you’d also talked to him a while back about what happened on the key. I deduced based on what I know and what he hinted at that you had also, in some way, likely unburdened yourself to him about what happened with Matt.”

  He didn’t speak, waiting for her to reply.

  “What else did he say?” she finally settled on.

  “He didn’t. That’s the problem. I love that man, but I swear had he been standing in front of me I would have been tempted to put a beating on him for what he refused to tell me. He is definitely a man of principle and his word. So I played twenty questions with him to finally reach the conclusion of exactly what I’d already been thinking—that we need to find some way for you to work through your anger once and for all. Because that was what he was worried about most—your anger destroying you.

  “Your entire life since the night July died has been driven by that rage, your fear of it, your refusal to openly acknowledge and face it. You shoved it away and it became your furnace. Why you pushed the girls so hard. Why you insisted they be able to protect themselves. And I think you’re scared of yourself, which is why you so willingly submitted to me.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “Because you and I both know exactly how Matt ‘disappeared,’ don’t we?”

  Stunned, she stared at him.

  How had she not known he knew all these years?

  She should have known. She should have had more faith in him.

  In retrospect, he seemed to know her better than she knew herself, and he always had.

  “My parents died of broken hearts,” she finally said. “Because of what that bastard did. He didn’t just kill July, he killed them, too. Slowly, but it did. He killed most of my family. I know May miscarried because of how upset she was over losing Mom and Dad, and I don’t give a shit what the doctors say. The timing was too close to be just a coincidence.”

  “I know. I agree.”

  “I remember his parents, how they acted. How they basically thought he could do no wrong. No accountability. They would have gotten him a lawyer and gotten him off, or had it pled down to something bullshit, a couple of years in jail while she was still dead. I saw it all the time in the parents of my students. That was one of the reasons I wanted to stop teaching kids. Their parents reminded me too much of Matt’s parents. It’s sad when parents who hold their kids truly accountable for their actions and teach them responsibility are the notable exception and not the norm.”

  “I agree.”

  He finally released her chin so sh
e could once again tuck her head against his chest.

  “Starting next week, I want you to make calls,” he said. “Find a counselor who specializes in anger issues. You can tell them everything but leave out the parts about your knowledge of exactly how Matt ‘disappeared,’ and that you knew Jack was following you that day. Maybe someone who specializes in PTSD. Ask Ted or Doyle for recommendations.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her, enveloping her within his love, his safety. “I worry about your anger eating you alive from the inside out, sweetheart. Destroying you. Or driving you to do something one day that causes you to unintentionally put yourself into a situation that gets you or someone else hurt. Or worse. I’m sorry I made you teach kids as long as I did. I thought it was helping keep you busy. I didn’t realize it was only making things worse.”

  “It didn’t make it worse,” she said. “It just…kept me from being able to escape some things.”

  “I try my best. I’m not perfect.”

  “I still love you.”

  He chuckled. “Thank god, because I’m not sure anyone else could.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it.”

  Silence fell between them again for a little while. “Is there anything else I need to know?” he asked. “Chances are, they’ll never tie you to it. That was going on the better part of thirty years ago, now, and you were only seventeen.”

  “No, Sir. Nothing else.”

  “So we’re in agreement? You’ll find a counselor?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, sweetheart. Did you ever think about talking to Eliza about martial arts? Not sure what flavor of it she does, but maybe that might help? Or start going to SCA with her and Rusty. They do those mock combats.”

  “That might be fun.”

  “And safe. I need you to promise me that never again will you ever put yourself into a situation like that. I understand if something happens and you have to respond to protect yourself or someone else, but never again will you deliberately do that. Ever.”