When Night Falls

by Cait London

  He knew why she and Everett had once fit so perfectly together. They hadn’t walked on the darker side of life; they saw people as good and kind, and Mitchell knew they weren’t—not always.

  Everett looked at the eggs, bacon, and hash brown potatoes Uma placed in front of him. He turned pale, and Mitchell pushed the plate away and replaced it with toast, juice, and coffee. Everett smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

  Mitchell dug into the plate he’d taken from Everett, and Uma blinked at him as though shocked that he could have another helping. He sensed her working up to a private discussion, the tension in the room was almost tangible.

  Their eyes locked and held, and desire slammed into Mitchell. In his mind, he saw Uma’s ecstasy, the way she took pleasure into herself, giving everything. From Uma’s rosy, flustered look, she was also remembering the heated storm between them. Mitchell noted her nipples pushing against her dress before her blush deepened and she gripped a dish towel in front of her. From a few feet away, he could feel her pulse kick up, feel the softening of her body, recall the scent of it—if he didn’t leave now, he’d be embarrassed to stand. “I just dropped in for breakfast and to see if you were okay,” Mitchell said huskily as he rose. “I’ve got lawns to mow. See you.”

  Everett stood slowly, unsteadily, and extended his hand for a handshake. “I get the picture. You and Uma. Sorry I made such a fool of myself. But she’s a rare woman, and a good friend.”

  Mitchell nodded and wondered whether, if the situation were reversed, he could have released Uma without a fight—but then, Everett was classy and Mitchell wasn’t, not when it came to her.

  He wondered if she would come to him that night. Or ever again. That she might not was terrifying.

  Clyde polished his shoes, admiring the two-tone classic saddle oxfords. Mitchell Warren was just like his father, stepping in where he wasn’t wanted—like the time Fred had stopped Clyde’s father from whipping a horse that deserved it. Now Mitchell had Rosy in tow, but he couldn’t always protect the pig. Or himself. He was far too visible, trimming hedges and mowing yards and cutting trees.

  Mitchell was a top executive with a top paycheck. Why had he come back to Madrid?

  It didn’t make any difference. He’d be gone soon, one way or the other.

  Clyde liked to move in the night, and eventually, Mitchell would step out into the night and find a bullet waiting for him. Dapper and well dressed, Clyde straightened in the mirror, smoothing his jacket and vest. Too bad he had to kill Rosalie; he really could have used her for more alterations. Fear wouldn’t have worked on the old woman—threatening her children and grandchilden. Eventually, Rosalie would have made a mistake and exposed Clyde. He adjusted his hat at a cocky angle and checked the shoulder holster.

  He had to carry on the outlaw’s work. While Clyde Barrow had robbed banks and given away money to some of the poor people back then, his namesake could only try to right the wrongs in Madrid today.

  Mitchell was big and tough, but not as smart as Clyde. When Mitchell was dead, Uma would settle for Everett, just as she should have long ago.

  The gossips had broadcast Uma’s sexual relationship with Mitchell, and that just could not be tolerated.

  FOURTEEN

  At ten o’clock the next morning, Uma hurried down the stairs from her office and out into the brilliant sunshine on her way to Mitchell’s house next door. “Shelly is here. She needs you,” he had said briskly, impatiently, on the phone.

  Pearl’s taut, frosty call earlier had asked Uma not to reveal anything she knew, Pearl would do her own research. “You know that Everett has left town. He’s talking about moving to Denver,” Pearl had said in an accusing tone.

  “That will be good for his business. I’m sorry if you’re hurting, Pearl. Truly sorry,” Uma had said, meaning it. “Please call—or better yet, drop by for tea whenever you can. You had asked me to help sort your household things for that bazaar at the thrift shop. I know it’s really important to you, something your mother started. I’ll be glad to help you.”

  Uma ached for her; Pearl needed time to adjust to the lowered status of her ancestry, and she would.

  On the sidewalk in front of Mitchell’s house, Shelly stood watching Mitchell and Roman and Dani muscle Rosy into the motorcycle’s sidecar. Shelly didn’t look terrified, which was what Uma had expected; rather, she looked like she was trying to smother laughter. She turned to Uma and whispered, “I’ve seen a lot of rodeos, but nothing like this.”

  “Come on, you big slab of bacon,” Mitchell was muttering as Rosy tried to jump out of the box prepared for her. “If we’re going to be stuck with you, you’re going to make it easier on us. We’re not walking you everywhere.”

  “Sing lullabies to her, Mitchell. She likes that,” Uma offered as Dani started to giggle.

  Mitchell shot her a look, and Roman glared at his daughter. “Get on the bike, and no comments from the peanut gallery.”

  The scene was too comical, and Uma couldn’t help laughing. She realized that it wasn’t just the humorous situation; it was a release of the fear that had swallowed her, that a murderer prowled Madrid. Mitchell scowled at her. “She’s got to go with Roman. He’s pigsitting down at the garage today. He’s cut one side of a bathtub down so she can hop inside.”

  When he placed his hand on Rosy, she instantly quieted. Uma shivered because she knew the strength of that touch, the emotions it could arouse or settle. The pig sat in the box prepared for her, and Mitchell clumsily adjusted the bow around her neck. A few Band-Aids were plastered at angles around Rosy’s neck. Mitchell solemnly handed the tube of antiseptic to Roman.

  “Oh, Rosy…” Dani crooned and held her earphones to Rosy’s ear. The pig held very still as Rolling Stones music throbbed into the morning. She seemed to enjoy it.

  Roman looked at Dani on the bike, Rosy in the sidecar, and Shelly, standing on the sidewalk. He walked to her with a meaningful look and she took a step backward, her eyes widening. Roman’s arms looped around her and he dragged her close for a long kiss that left Shelly staring blankly at him. He added another little kiss on her nose. “Well, I’m off to school with the kids, honey. Kitty and Bernard are coming in this afternoon for a visit, and so are Dani’s friends. Dani is going to walk Rosy with Kitty and Bernard. They feel safer, just in case Rosy gets away from them. Mitchell will bring you by later, and then we’ll go clean those houses.”

  Shelly blinked and her lips moved, before she replied unevenly, “But I have houses to clean. I canceled this morning, but I have afternoon—”

  “I just said that—I know we do. But you girls need some private talking time. Put your heads together and see if you come up with any candidates for Mr. Unfriendly,” Roman said, swinging onto his bike. He revved it, and watching Rosy, carefully eased off into the street.

  Shelly looked just as stunned as Uma felt. “You know, then,” Uma said and Shelly nodded.

  “It’s awful. To think that someone killed Rosalie.”

  “Maybe others,” Uma said gently, as they entered the door Mitchell had opened.

  “Lauren,” Shelly whispered inside the house as she held Uma’s hand. “I feel her here still. So much is happening, Uma…all at once. Last night Roman gave me a ring—an engagement ring. He thinks I’m his Vargas calendar girl and his Lamborghini all in one. Imagine him saying something like that! Or that I’m his Rose. Me. Just plain Shelly Craig, cleaning woman. And now all this. He and Dani are going to see my mother. I know it’s going to be a disaster and Dani will be hurt again. He just doesn’t see—”

  Uma understood Shelly’s panic. “You know what I think would be a good idea? Cutting roses from Lauren’s garden for her room. Let’s go do that, and then we can talk. Mitchell says it’s important that we put things together, try to remember anything that might help find this person. I think that should be our priority, don’t you? To find this guy and stop him before he can hurt anyone else?”

  Later, in Lauren’s room, a full, lush b
ouquet of roses filled the room with perfume. “I don’t like digging up dirty laundry—gossip and all the ugly things that happened in our town,” Shelly said.

  “Neither do I.” Uma looked at Mitchell, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I think we should ask Grace to come back and help. She knows—”

  “No.” Mitchell pivoted and left the room. Sounds in the kitchen said he was making lunch and was none too happy, by the crash of pans and dishes.

  “They do that. Just close off when something comes too near their hearts,” Shelly said quietly. “I ached for them then and now. They had a horrible childhood, and Fred’s death left another scar. Roman sinks inside himself at times, and it has something to do with his father’s death.”

  Uma remembered Mitchell’s reaction to Tessa’s arrival. “They are difficult men.”

  “More than difficult—stubborn to the bone. Dani wants to meet her grandmother. I don’t blame her. I would have told her sooner, but then, she didn’t know her father’s identity until now. And I couldn’t risk—”

  “I’ll take care of it. Dani is right.” Uma knew the brothers wouldn’t be happy, but the risk was worth it—and Grace had a right to know her granddaughter.

  Shelly hugged a pillow splashed with Lauren’s needlepoint roses. “Roman wants me to make a list of every accident I’ve had in the last year. He wants all the details surrounding them. He doesn’t think they were accidents. I…I’ve been thinking I was losing my mind, worrying about Dani, distracted—I don’t know. I can’t bear to think that anyone in Madrid is so awful.”

  In the upstairs garage apartment that afternoon, Roman’s gaze strolled down Shelly’s body. She was clad in a T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, her regular working clothes. With the Vargas calendars behind her, she looked like one of the models, and was obviously nervous to be alone with him.

  “Well? How did it go?” she asked too briskly, studying Dani’s homework on his desk.

  Roman couldn’t resist teasing her. “How well did what go?”

  “Oh, you know. The visit at the rest home? My mother? Dani said you both went.”

  “Super. Are we ready to start cleaning?”

  “Not you. You’re not going with me. But I’ve canceled my regular this afternoon, too, for the first time. Mitchell doesn’t think there’s any danger during the day, and that’s when I clean. I can’t have you underfoot every day and night. And you’re not messing with my schedule after today. So just tell me what happened with my mother.”

  He could always count on Shelly, he thought, as those green eyes lasered through the shadows to him and the sunlight from the window caught the reddish tint of her hair. It was long and straight and silky. He wanted to wrap his fist in it and take that sweet mouth, but he wouldn’t. She hadn’t been treated like a woman, or a sweetheart, and he intended to give her that much.

  “Tell me what happened,” Shelly ordered fiercely again. “Did my mother say anything to hurt Dani?”

  Roman thought of how the old woman had looked, bitter lines on her face, refusing to look at Dani—or at him. Her voice creaked with age and anger. “You think you two can just waltz in here and tell me that he’s your father—a Warren, Fred Warren’s boy, that no-good.”

  Her narrowed eyes had been green as Shelly’s. “Look at you both. Now, who would want to claim you?”

  “Your daughter did,” Roman had said quietly. “She’s like you, with a lot of heart—a fighter.”

  “Like me?” The old woman’s head had snapped back as if taking a slap. “She shamed me, shamed our family. Look what we did for her. She was all set to go to college, and then you—a Warren—came along and ruined our lives. That is, if you’re telling the truth now.”

  She’d glanced at Rosy sitting on the lawn, studying the newly watered gardens of the rest home. “What’s that pig doing here, wearing that fancy ribbon?”

  Roman had ignored her question and hadn’t wanted Dani to hear his next words; he’d leaned close to Mrs. Craig’s wicker armchair. He had adjusted her laprobe and whispered, “Listen to me, you old witch. Shelly loves you. She’s working herself to death keeping you here. She’s gone around you, trying not to upset you, but I won’t. Dani is her daughter and mine. I thought we could all be a family, and maybe, just maybe, you’d like to take a spin with us someday in my motorcycle sidecar…or come to Shelly’s for dinner. And if you really behave, you can probably stay overnight. It’s your choice. Now, you can sit over here and chew on that bitterness until it eats you, or you can show Shelly the respect she deserves. She’s raised a fine daughter, and Dani is going to college. You can be proud of her.”

  Mrs. Craig’s stony face said she wasn’t talking or listening to more, and tears shimmered in Dani’s eyes. She’d been silent as they drove back to the garage, silent as she studied in his room. In the garage below, Roman had worked with Jace and his friends. The tough-looking girls who had gone up to chat with Dani had come down pouting. Sensing a gray mood in the garage, Rosy had stayed inside her bathtub.

  Now, in the room above, Roman turned to Shelly, studying her as she stood in the August sunlight slanting into the room. Would she accept his engagement ring? He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Pride—or was it fear?—stopped him from asking her about the ring, about marriage to him. He didn’t know how to handle these gentler emotions. “Your mother is coming along. It’s going to work out.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Reacting instantly, he snagged her wrist and drew her into his arms, whispering fiercely against her cheek. He rocked her against him, just as someone should have been doing for years. “You’ve got to trust someone now, Shelly—I’m hoping it’s going to be me.”

  Her body was stiff against his and Roman knew how difficult it was for her to accept another’s help, especially his. She was trembling, fighting herself now, fearing to trust too much, fearing for Dani, an independent woman who needed support.

  “I’m so sorry, Shell. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. But I won’t say that I’m sorry you gave me Dani. I feel…I can’t tell you how I feel about her, just that she’s a part of me already,” he whispered against her cheek, smoothing her tears with his lips. He caressed her neck with his fingers, trying to draw out the tension, wanting to take it into him and protect her.

  “You don’t think he’d hurt Dani, do you? I just can’t believe anyone could be so cruel as to cause Rosalie’s and Gerald’s deaths. None of this makes sense. Pearl’s girls have spent the summer away and they’ll be going to boarding school—they won’t be in danger. Maybe I should send Dani somewhere, too, just until this awful person is caught…oh, I do hope he’s caught before—it’s just awful, Roman. Madrid has always been so safe, and then Lauren was killed.”

  “Did you and Uma come up with any ideas?”

  Shelly couldn’t yet admit that evil lurked in Madrid. “I know,” he soothed grimly, when she shook her head. “But the pieces will come together.”

  He also knew that Dani wasn’t going anywhere. She was just as stubborn as he, and she wanted to stay with her mother. Roman closed his eyes as Shelly relaxed slightly against him, his own doubt that she would trust him easing. “We’ll get through this, Shell. I promise. Everything is going to work out.”

  And he prayed it would as Shelly turned slightly to him and their lips brushed. The taste caught and held and Roman took the sweetness into him, savoring Shelly in his arms. He saw himself in those green eyes before they closed, and with a quiet sigh, she opened her lips slightly against his and whispered, “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

  “Really afraid,” he admitted unevenly, rawly. Her body was all soft beneath his easy caress, beneath her breast, her waist, and the gentle curve of her hips. “I want to do everything right with you this time, and I haven’t ever been down this road before. I’ve lived with women, but when things got tough, I rolled on. I wasn’t ready to make any commitment because there was always you.”

  “You’re not
so tough.” She smoothed his hair, studying him with those meadow-green eyes.

  “Just keep looking at me like that, and you’ll find yourself beneath me on that bed.” Roman wasn’t too certain that he could leash his need for her; he’d never tried with another woman, but Shelly deserved every bit of patience he could manage.

  “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.” Her lips were brushing his, lightly and with enough impact to send heat throbbing through his body.

  He wanted her desperately, wanted to wrap himself in her, taking everything, making her a part of him, to hold her, to keep her safe and close and sweet. The ache was more than sexual, filling a need—it came from within his heart and both terrified and consumed him. What if he hurt her?

  His body told him to dive greedily into lovemaking with her, to fill himself with her, to forget everything but Shelly.

  His mind cautioned and wondered and feared and he eased away, holding her upper arms as she leaned toward him. Her soft, sensual expression sent him a jolt of sheer longing. “I don’t know how to do this, Shell…”

  Her eyes were soft, filled with him, and with something more than desire. He had enough experience with women to know the hot grab of desire, empty of everything but the satisfying of basic urges. Whatever was in Shelly’s eyes now terrified him—it said she respected him, a tender worship.

  Roman had had women racing fans adore him, but Shelly’s expression seemed good and still and solid, as if it would never change.

  He kissed her hard twice, slanting one way and then the other, then stepped back, more afraid of what tangled between them than he’d ever been of smashing into a racing wall.

  “What was that?” Shelly asked quietly, her green eyes seeing too much.

  Roman went to stand at the window, looking down at Maloney Street baking in the sunlight. “I don’t know. You get me mixed up.”