by Linda Verji
“I don’t need back up.” Brett guffawed. “I can take on these little boys with one hand tied, kiddo.” He asked, “You found out what that thug has going on in her store?”
Nic said, “He’s running coke.”
“Actually, he’s running coke through many stores,” Rafaél drawled. “Had a little chat with the one of the guards. He says that Melanie’s not the only one they’re squeezing.”
“How many more people?” Nic asked.
“He’s too low on the totem pole to know.”
“Find out.” They probably wouldn’t need the information, but Nic liked to know every little thing about his enemies. “What did you do with the guard?”
Rafaél smiled wolfishly. “Let’s just say that we now have an asset inside Vance’s little organization. I have a feeling Jiggy will be a great addition to our team.”
“Good.” Nic tossed back a gulp of his drink. “Brett, Diego, you’re with Melanie until she leaves. Make sure she gets wherever she’s going safe and sound.”
“Got it,” both men said.
He looked at Rafaél. “You know the plan,”
“Bring Vance in as soon as she’s gone, and convince him that pursuing her would be a very bad business decision,” Rafaél recited. His gaze narrowed on Nic. “Our friends won’t be happy. They don’t like it when we shake up things.”
“That’s why I haven’t told them what we’re doing,” Nic said. No doubt his intervention in the Melanie situation would have consequences. But he’d be damned if he sat aside and let Vance railroad her. That, however, didn’t mean he had to take everyone down with him. His eyes met Rafaél’s. “I’ll understand if you want to back out.”
“Like I’d miss this for anything.” Rafaél eyes lit up with amusement.
Diego’s response was just as quick and unequivocal. “I’m in.”
“Hell, I’m a free agent.” Brett chuckled. “Free to piss off anyone I like.”
“Well then.” Nic flicked an imaginary fleck of dirt from his sleeve. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
CHAPTER 5
Melanie tossed and turned in her bed, rumpling her sheets with her frantic movements as she tried to summon sleep. It evaded her, allowed her mind to taunt her cruelly with Nic’s face. The past melded into tonight, and technicolor images of both his younger self and the man she’d seen in her car flitted past her closed eyes.
Had he really been in her car or had she imagined the whole thing?
“Mm shmmughs sham sh,” Cece groaned incoherently in her sleep as she turned.
Melanie shifted to her back and opened her eyes. Darkness met her, its gloominess eased by the shadowy strands of light peeking in through the drapes. The silence in the room heightened the volume of the thoughts echoing in her mind.
He wasn’t dead.
After all this time of assuming that Vance had killed him and he wasn’t even dead. Talk about a punch to the gut. She’d been shaking so badly that it was a wonder she’d arrived home without melting into a bundle of gooey limbs or wrapping her car around a streetlight. Fortunately Cece was already asleep otherwise Melanie would’ve been fielding questions left, right and center.
Relief and anger battled for supremacy within her; relief because he wasn’t dead and anger because he’d made her think he was dead. Anger won. Maybe if he’d come back a haggard shell of himself, his return would’ve been easier to take. But despite herself, Melanie had to admit that he looked better than he ever had. An image of his masculine stature encased in that suit had her body tightening in awareness.
Shut up! She reprimanded her body. The hell it would celebrate his return. Not after what he’d done to her. He deserved hatred and resentment, not celebration. What kind of person did that to someone they claimed to love? Remembering how much she’d cried for him had her pursing her lips and curling her fingers over the comforter.
And he had the nerve to tell her what to do? How he knew about the Vance situation was still a mystery, but his assumption that he had the right – any right – to hop into her life spouting orders set her teeth on edge. Was it her or had he even offered her money? How about he shove his orders and money where the sun didn’t shine and crawl back into whatever hole he’d crawled out from.
She was good without him.
By morning, Melanie had resolved to erase Nic and his visit from her mind. As far as she was concerned the whole car-thing hadn’t even happened, and he was still missing. Good riddance to bad memories.
By the time she got to work, Iona and friends had arrived and business was booming – well their business.
“They’re scaring the clients,” Jo whispered as they covertly watched another man enter the store and head directly for Iona’s counter.
A fissure of anger cut through Melanie as she threw a glance that way. But she tapped down on the resentment and switched her attention to the computer screen where rows and columns awaited her assessment. There was nothing she could do about Iona and her clients right now hence no point in riling herself about it.
From a cursory inspection of their finances, Darlene’s was already suffering. Yesterday’s sales had been dismal at best but it seemed today’s would be far worse. A few clients had braved entry into the store but none of them had bought anything. They were too busy either gaping at Iona’s buyers or trying to get the hell out of here.
Melanie sighed. She needed to do something to keep them afloat. “Jo, where’s the document with our clients’ email addresses?”
“Umm.” Jo crowded closer to Melanie in front of the computer and reached for the mouse. She clicked through several files. “I think it’s… here.”
Melanie peered at the opened database. “Some of the names don’t have an address.”
“Some don’t have emails.” Jo minimized the document and started scrolling through other files. “But I think I’ve got another document with their numbers somewhere in here.”
“Okay.” Melanie paused to collect her thoughts. “I need you to draft an email to all our clients. Tell them Darlene’s is now offering home fittings for those who would like the convenience of shopping from their couch.”
“Kind of like house calls?”
“Exactly.” Melanie nodded. “While you’re doing that, I’ll call to let them know personally.”
The two women got to work at once. Understandably a good number of their clients were reluctant to let someone invade the privacy of their homes, but a few expressed interest in the offer. A few was better than the zero she was currently batting in-store.
Even while she worked, Melanie’s mind whirled with the plan to get leverage enough to extricate her family from Vance’s clutches. She’d never been one to ruminate on a plan, beating it to death with a doubt stick. Once she decided on something, she stuck to it. Every time she picked up her phone to call a client, she first snapped a picture of Iona side of the shop. By four p.m. she had some very clear shots of the jewelry corner’s shady clientele and the presumed exchanges.
Determined to go even further, she surreptitiously activated the recorder then walked to one of the racks and slipped it into the pocket of a jacket. She pretended to straighten the clothes there, gave the jacket a measuring look as if considering it. Clucking her tongue as if dissatisfied, she carried it and another jacket to the rack closest to Iona’s corner.
Iona was with a client. The moment Melanie passed by, they abruptly quieted and cast suspicious looks her way. Even though her heart was pounding like it was about to jump out of her chest, Melanie ignored them. She hummed quietly as she thrust the jackets into the circular rack between other clothes then strolled back to hers and Jo’s desk. She released a gush of breath when she was once more seated.
Iona and her client resumed their transactions.
Ha! Melanie threw them a glare. Enjoy your jewelry. It certainly won’t be for long.
Of course, doubts and worst case scenarios plagued her. What if the recorder fell out of the pocket?
What if a client suddenly decided that they wanted to take a look at that jacket and found it? What if Iona found it? What had possessed her to do something so stupid? Who was she to think that she could take on a man like Vance and win?
She ruthlessly stomped them back down.
Sometimes doing the necessary was risky business.
At three thirty, Iona and Jiggy, her body guard, kicked Melanie and Jo out of the store. Melanie drove to pick up Sly. Most Saturdays she took her nephew to Darlene’s with her, but she didn’t want him anywhere near Vance’s minions so she’d left him at Cece’s. Once back at home, she cooked while he watched TV. She’d just turned off the stove when Brett knocked on her door. After dinner, he stayed to chat a bit then left telling her to lock the door after him.
She did.
Around midnight she finally went to bed hopeful that her plan would work. Tomorrow she’d grab the recorder and if her luck continued it’d have something juicy. She left the bedside drawer with her gun slightly open before slipping into restless sleep.
Barely an hour later she woke up.
She had no idea why, only that her subconscious prickled in alarm and, in response, her eyes snapped open. Her heart jolted when she heard a slight noise from the other side of the room. Acting purely on instinct, she reached for her gun. Her hand closing around the grip and trigger, she whirled toward the window only to find a shadow seated on the armchair chair.
There was a loud click as she took the safety off the gun then pointed. And she would’ve shot too if he hadn’t said, “Lanie, it’s me.”
Really? What the hell was he doing creeping into her room in the dead of the night? She was severely tempted to pretend that she didn’t recognize his voice and put a bullet in him. Just his shoulder or his foot? Lucky for him her good sense prevailed. Setting her gun on the bedside table, she flipped the switch above her headboard to reveal Nic.
For a moment she stared at him. Tonight he’d discarded the suit for a dark green t-shirt and black jeans but he looked delicious as ever. And it irritated her. He had no right to look so good after everything he’d done.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she exclaimed in a high, uneven voice.
“You’re still here,” he responded coolly, as if that explained everything.
“Get out.” She threw off the covers and sprang out of bed. Her movement was so quick it left her light headed and with stars racing in her eyes. Nic sprung off his seat, his arms stretched out as if to catch her.
“No. No.” She stretched her hand out to keep him from coming closer as she backed away towards the door. “Don’t touch me.”
He took a step forward. “Lanie -”
“Get out.” She backed away from the edge of the bed and toward the door.
He stopped moving, keeping about three long strides between them. His arms fell to his side as he said, “I just want to talk.”
“Talk about what, Nic? We’ve got nothing to talk about.” She cupped her hands over her face. “Get out of my house. Leave me alone.”
Silence greeted her furious words. Her hopes that he’d be gone when she dropped her hands from her face plummeted when she found him still standing there; immovable as granite and his dark, expressionless gaze pining her.
Which part of ‘get out’ did this man not get? The sight of him still standing there, staring at her, brought bile rushing to her throat, and she whirled away from him. She ran her palm through her braids and cupped her hand at the back of her neck as she began to pace. In short fast steps, she paced the length of floor in front of her bed struggling to quiet her still racing heart.
He watched her in silence.
At one point, he walked back to the armchair and once more settled on it. She paused to glare at him before resuming her pacing. She was so angry she could’ve screamed if she were alone in the house. But she wasn’t. He could thank Sly for not getting shot or having to spend the night in a dingy jail cell from breaking into her house.
Come to think of it, how had he done it? Entered her house! Her gaze slid to the window, but the drapes were still in place. She was on the fourth floor, anyway, so he couldn’t possibly have crawled up the wall unless he had some Spiderman genes she was unaware of. She’d barred the door with serious bolts so that was out too. How had he entered? She had to know.
She spun to face him. “How did you get in?”
He ignored her question and instead asked, “What are we still doing here? We agreed that you’d leave.”
“We agreed?” Her voice rose an octave higher as she glared at him. “You and Me? Agreed? I don’t recall having that conversation. Are you sure you didn’t imagine that when you were having fun wherever you’ve been all this time?”
“Look, I know that we’ve got our issues.” His dark eyes raked her, taking in her delicate pink vest and cotton shorts, before rising to meet hers. “But you need to listen to me, Melanie. It’s not safe for you here and I can help you get out.”
Issues? That’s what he called this? No, this was anger, plain and simple, and it was roaring through her like an electric train with no brakes. The premier question that had been nagging at her since last night burst through her seams. “Nine years. Where were you?”
Nic didn’t answer.
She waited for him to say something, anything.
He said nothing.
“That’s it?” she asked. Her eyes shot knives at him as she folded her arms over her chest. “No ‘I’m sorry I left’? No ‘this is why I left’? No ‘this is where I went’? Nothing? Really, Nic?”
“I…” he started but his words drifted into silence.
She clenched her teeth in frustration. “You know what? I’m going to bed.” Making good on that promise, she marched to the side of the bed furthest away from the couch. “I’m going to sleep and when I open my eyes, you’ll be gone, the same way you came in.” She shoved the covers aside and climbed back into bed. “Goodbye, Nic. See you never.”
She flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Pulling the covers over her head, she closed her eyes.
Anxiety bounced around in her nerves as she waited for him to leave. Her breathing halted and her hearing perked when the armchair creaked as if he was lifting off it. The air whispered with the hushed movement of his body as he took a step, then another. Not away from the bed but toward it.
Her fury grew with each step he took closer as did the solid lump in her throat. He came to a stand close to the bed. So close she could feel the warmth of his body as he stood over her. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Hadn’t he done enough to hurt her? He had to come here and remind her of how she wasn’t even good enough for a goodbye. She wanted to fling the comforter from her face and tell him yet again to leave her alone. But she couldn’t
She couldn’t let him see the tears that had started to fall.
She felt his hand first, a warm mass on her waist, then the sudden movement of air as he lowered his body. When he spoke, the sound was so close she could’ve sworn he was kneeling beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
What did he think his ‘I’m sorry’ would do? Unplant the dagger of hurt he’d stuck into her heart with his unceremonious exit? Erase the nine years of hell he’d put her through? Impossible!
It was too late for I’m sorry.
CHAPTER 6
“I’m sorry.” Nic wished he had more words, better words, to express the extent of his regret. But he could think of none other than, “I’m so sorry.”
He scooted closer to the bed, balancing on the balls of his feet, and smoothed a hand over her waist. Her anger was scorching. Even the comforter that covered her was no barrier to its heat. She turned away from him and shifted away towards the middle of the bed to avoid his touch. Following her, he rose to sit on the edge of the bed.
Her first sniff cut him to the quick.
Was she crying?
Her second sniff confirmed it. His own throat clogged up. The las
t thing he wanted to do was make her cry. He wanted to hold her and to protect her. Never to make her cry! He tried to tug the comforter from her head but she held on to it tightly, so he settled for calming her with a hand on her back.
They stayed in the darkness like that for quite a while; her crying and him stroking to her back and hoping that his touch was more useful than his words. Finally she quieted.
It took a while for her to emerge from under the covers until he was afraid that she’d gone to sleep. Suddenly she jerked upwards, dislodging his hand from her back. She pushed the covers to her waist, sat up and turned the lights back on.
Nic blinked as his eyes acclimated to the sudden brightness then his gaze locked on her. Her eyes were red and swollen from the crying, yet she was still achingly beautiful. Time had been kind to Melanie moving her from a pretty teenager to a beautiful woman. Her face and body had filled out into feminine maturity. From the lush lips, the pert breasts, to the cinched in waist. His body stirred in immediate awareness of her.
Melanie was less captivated by him. Her now vacant gaze scoured him. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
Nic frowned. “I can’t. Not when you’re in trouble?”
Her laughter was unexpected. The sound ricocheted in the room before fading off into a few chuckles and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You can’t leave?” Her laughter had an edge to it as she shook her head as if in disbelief. “You can’t leave? Not when I’m in trouble? Please!”
Her smile had faded completely leaving lips drawn into a straight thin line of anger when she asked, “Do you know how much trouble I’ve been in since you left? I lost Marcus’s custody. I had to quit school. My aunt died. Marcus was blackmailed because of me-” She stopped talking. “Why am I telling you all this? Why would I expect you to be there for me when you couldn’t even be there for your own mother?”