Squealing took her attention away from the milling people to a girl who threw herself at Sophia. Enveloped by a perfumed hug, Sophia patted her friend’s back awkwardly. Lisa stepped back, a huge smile on her face.
“When Brooke said she'd seen you, I almost didn't believe it. But then Patty and Rachel mentioned running into you, too—where have you been, girl?”
Sophia tried to process her friend's rapid speech over the loud din of the party and the music. It took her a second, and in that time Brooke joined them, also giving Sophia a hug. Though hers was far less perfume-filled and exuberant as Lisa's.
“How are you guys?” she asked, to move the conversation away from her and what she'd been doing. “What have you been up to?”
Lisa giggled. “Same old, same old. Not much changes around here, you know that.”
Brooke shrugged. “Got a new job at one of the new restaurants Alonzo opened down south. Tips suck ass, but that's life.”
The acceptance in her tone made Sophia clench her fists at her sides. Both girls were obviously already a little drunk, adding to Sophia's uneasiness. She shouldn't feel this way here. It's not like the drinking, the drugs, nor any of the rest of it was unusual. And yet…
I don’t belong here anymore.
She shook herself mentally. Whether that was true or not, she had a mission here. One that would get her away from the very dangerous Nick Ward. And the dangerous-in-a-different-way Darrell.
Nick wasn’t like Darrell. The more time she spent with him, the more she came to realize that. Sophia knew her attraction toward him wasn’t because she was falling back into the same old trap. But he was still dangerous. Dangerous because, given the slightest release of control on her part, she’d fall head over heels for a man who likely only saw her as a means to an end.
With effort, she tried to turn the conversation back to normal things. Very carefully, she didn't ask directly about Darrell. But even with months away, Sophia had a hard time coming up with topics of conversation.
And they seemed far more interested in finding out what Sophia had been doing. “Come on. Dish. We need some good gossip,” Brooke demanded.
Lying had never been one of her strong points, she only seemed to manage in the worst of situations. “I had to get away for a while. Try something different, you know?” Both girls nodded, but Sophia wondered if they really did understand. “Tried school. College.”
In tandem, the girls’ eyes widened.
“School? For what?” Lisa asked.
“Nothing, really. I thought it might be fun to take some classes—figure out something to do with my life. I wasn't actually majoring in anything. Just trying to figure out what I might want to do.” She watched as the other girls' eyes started to gloss over, and they began looking at her like a stranger, puzzled expressions on their faces and just a little bit more darkness around their eyes. This wasn't going well. She didn't want them to think of her as an outsider—she needed information, dammit. Besides, they were her friends.
Weren’t they?
Both girls muttered something vague about that being interesting, then started to glance around. Looking for a way out of the conversation, no doubt.
“But, school didn't work out. It's pretty hard, you know,” she added quickly.
That got their attention. They both seemed to relax a little and nodded sagely.
“School's tough,” Brooke agreed. “I barely made it through cosmetology school, but I'm glad I pushed through. Maybe you should think about doing that. You’d make better money than at the Video Shack.”
Tightness in her stomach, Sophia nodded. Even though she had no interest in going to beauty school. Granted, she hadn't exactly figured out what she wanted to go to college for, but she knew it wasn't that. She could barely even style her own hair.
Brooke glanced behind Sophia and her face brightened. “My guy’s here, I'll see you bitches later.”
Alone-ish with Lisa, Sophia saw her opportunity. “So… Have you seen Darrell around at all?” Quickly, she added, “Not that I'm interested you know. Just wondering.”
Lisa gave her a knowing look, and Sophia’s gut twisted. Lisa assumed she was still interested in Darrell. Even the idea of that made her stomach want to revolt.
“Sorry, hon. He just went off the grid. I heard there were cops looking for him, so I think he's been laying low for a while.” She shrugged. “Course, you'd know that better than me.”
Fear fluttered through Sophia’s stomach before she realized that Lisa probably only meant that she should know more about it because she'd been Darrell's girl for so long. There was no reason for Lisa to know she hadn't been in contact with Darrell in months.
Deciding it was worth the risk to push her luck, Sophia said, “I heard he got picked up on a murder charge.”
Lisa's eyes narrowed, and Sophia felt like she was being studied. “Whatever reason he's wanted for, I'm sure he'll get out of it. You know Darrell.”
“Sure.” She did know Darrell. And that's why she'd been so hesitant to participate in this little debacle of Nick’s. There was no way that Lisa didn’t know why Darrell was wanted. “I mean, I hope so.”
With eyes still slightly narrowed, Lisa watched her expression carefully. Like Sophia was a bug under a microscope.
Sophia had to get away from her. Lisa might very well agree with her that college was hard, but the woman was smart. Smart in the way a college degree just couldn't help you with. The kind of smart that you only got living the kind of hard life that Lisa had lived.
“I think I’ll grab a beer,” Sophia said, to make her escape. Lisa nodded, but she still watched her. She could feel her eyes at her back the whole way to the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she grabbed an unopened bottle of beer from the fridge. Then she scanned the room around her, itching to leave.
She took a long drink of the beer, hoping it would calm her nerves. At one point she’d felt so comfortable here, among these people. Most of them waved at her, nodded at least, as she’d made her way through the house. In theory, she was among her friends. But the connection she'd always felt to these people was so distant now. Vaguely wrong. She didn't belong here anymore.
Something in her stomach twisted. If things didn't work out for her, she'd always thought she could come home again. If she failed out of college. If she started to hate the small town life. If trouble followed her there. At least, after Nick had come into her life and given her hope that Darrell would no longer be an issue, she'd started to consider the possibility that she might come back here. But she couldn't return to this world.
This place was no longer her home.
She set the beer down on the counter, still half-full. Then she headed for the door, feeling eyes—so many eyes—following her. No one tried to stop her. But no one wished her well either.
It was official. She was friendless.
Nick watched Sophia step out the front door of the dilapidated house he'd watched her walk into shortly before ten o'clock. Early. Real early. He followed her slowly in his car, keeping his distance until they got a few blocks away. When he figured they were far enough, he pulled up next to her.
She got into the car, looking upset.
“What happened?” he asked without preamble.
“Nothing,” she said, biting out the word.
God, dealing with the woman could drive a man insane, but hell. She was also constantly surprising him. With her bravery and her need to stand on her own two feet, no matter how the odds were stacked against her.
He glanced at her but didn't push for information. Not just yet.
Lit by the streetlights, her expression in her profile revealed the darkness of her mood. And if he wasn't mistaken, she looked a little… Sad.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He didn't like it. Not one bit. And that was a fucking problem.
Caring about her hadn’t been a part of the plan. He'd had her pegged weeks before he
even met her. She was supposed to be like all the rest. Supposed to be easy for him to keep at a distance. So much for that. He was man enough to admit the woman had gotten under his skin.
Trouble was, he didn’t have a fucking clue what to do about it.
Silence reigned during the short drive back to the apartment. And neither of them broke it even after he parked the car and they headed upstairs—together for once. But when he shut the door to the apartment behind them, he couldn't stay quiet any longer.
“Tell me what happened.”
Sophia didn't react well to orders. But taking control the situation, taking command, was second nature to him. Whether he could blame that on his police training, or on his father, didn't matter.
As expected, she bristled at his tone and crossed her arms. “Like I said, nothing.”
“Something happened. You're upset.”
“I'm not upset,” she said, slamming her purse on the kitchen counter with a little more force than was really necessary.
“Of course not. I see that now,” he said dryly.
She sighed and shot him a dirty look. “Nothing relevant happened. I talked to a couple of my girlfriends, they didn't offer anything up. One started getting a little suspicious when I pushed.”
“Dozens of people at that party and you only talked to two?” What the hell was the point of her risking her life like that, going to a place where it was harder for him to protect her, if she wasn't even going to take advantage of the situation get them some damn information?
“It just—it wasn't what I thought it was going to be, okay?” There was a touch of pleading in her voice that made him want to back down. But he couldn't. This was too important.
“Spell it out for me, sweetheart. The hell does that mean?” The gentleness of his tone belied his words, but he didn't want to piss her off. More, he didn't want to hurt her. Something in his gut told him she'd already been hurt once tonight.
She hesitated for a long moment. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”
He wasn't a big drinker, not usually. But something told him that tonight, it wouldn't hurt him to loosen up. “Sure.”
A short laugh escaped her. “You got anything to drink?”
Finally, a problem he could solve. “You bet your ass, sweetheart.”
He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from his suitcase, Sophie actually cracked a smile when he reappeared from his bedroom with it.
“In case of emergencies, huh?” she teased. “Where was that all week?”
“Like you said, in case of emergencies only.” He retrieved a couple cups from the cupboard that would serve a shot glasses—so long as he was careful not to overfill them. “I'm not really a big drinker.”
“Me either. But I guess some situations call for it.”
The urge to push her, to ask exactly what situation she was talking about, gnawed at him. But he kept his trap shut, and poured the shots. Sliding one cup across the bar to her, he tipped his glass.
She tilted hers in response, then they both took their shots simultaneously. Sophia hacked and made noises of disgust. But to her credit, she didn't spit it out.
Nick suppressed a laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. Budget whiskey.” Sobering, he added, “And to answer your question, you feel like something changed because it has. You changed.”
A long moment passed between them, then Sophia glanced up from where she'd been staring at her glass. Eyelids red, she looked like she'd been crying, although he knew she hadn't.
“But did I change for the better?” She waved her cup at him and he poured her another shot.
How the hell did he answer that? Anything he said would reveal too much.
She downed hers as he finished pouring his own, and she spoke before he could come up with a reply to her question. “It doesn't matter, does it? I'm not the same person. And I have no home to go back to.”
He leaned back in the barstool considered her for a long moment. Getting close to her like this was dangerous, but damn him if he'd leave her feeling like this. “If it means anything to you, I think you've changed for the better. And you've made a home for yourself—not here maybe, but back in that little town you holed up in. After all this is done, you can go back there. Keep building that life.”
She nodded, but didn’t look one bit less miserable.
The idea of her going back to that small little town confused his emotions. Something inside of him wanted greatly to see her happy—when the hell had that become a priority? But another part of him… Damn, he'd enjoyed this last week. Enjoyed it in a way that he couldn't remember feeling in a long time. If ever. He was a miserable son of a bitch, he knew that. But for some reason, being around this woman made him feel just a little bit less wretched. Like he could breathe. And like he had a purpose.
He shook off the thought. Dangerous ideas. Ones that could lead nowhere. Because when she found out the whole truth about him, she wasn't going to want to be around him anyway. Not that he was certain she even did now.
“You're better off without this place. You’re different from the people you used to hang around.”
“Am I?” she said wistfully. She waited for her third shot, and he poured it for her. “What makes me so different from them?”
“Because you've always dreamed. You've always wanted… Something more. And you've got the grit to follow through with your dreams.”
She shook her head, but she didn't deny what he said out loud. Instead, she reached for her cup and held it in the air until he raised his own. Then she tapped the tip of her glass against the side of his and took her third shot. Following her lead, he downed his second.
“Do I? If I hadn't see—I mean if I hadn't been pushed, saw—” She cleared her throat and avoided his gaze. “Would I ever have gotten out of here?”
He ignored that she'd once again slipped and alluded to seeing something. That she had—likely the murder Darrell had been arrested for—was something he already knew. If she wanted to deny it, then he guessed that was okay for now.
“Who knows? But if I were a gambling man”—which he wasn't, not anymore—“I’d put all my money on you finding your way out of here eventually. No matter what you did or didn't see to drive you away.”
She blinked at him, slowly, eyes slightly clouded with drink. The whiskey was getting to her. “I hope you’re right.”
“You hungry?”
“Nope.” She frowned. “Okay, yeah. I’m starving.”
“I'll make us some tacos.”
She didn't object to a meal, or to him putting the lid on the whiskey and putting it away in the cupboard. Twenty minutes later they were crunching down their dinner and the glaze was gone from her eyes. A little buzz seemed to still be upon her—he could tell because the woman actually giggled a bit, not something he'd thought her capable of—but she didn’t seem drunk.
After they ate, they start to talk again. About her classes. About bounty hunting. The conversation flowed, and he found himself laughing more than a few times.
“Bounty hunting involves a lot less action than you might think,” he told her after she asked if he’d ever shot anyone on the job.
She gave him a doubtful look. “Sure seems like a lot of action. If you consider watching me exciting.” A red blush crept up her deck. “Not that I meant—”
He laughed. “This is actually a pretty action-heavy week for me.”
“Now that's just sad,” she teased.
“Seriously, though. A lot of my time is spent in my car. Or on the computer—although I tried to delegate as much of that to Alan as I can.”
“I still don't know what I’m going do with my life.” The bleakness in her eyes when she said that made him want to close the distance between them. Take her in his arms. Reassure her. Only one of those things was plausible.
“You're still young. Give it time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, old man.”
“Hey,” he said, acting offended. “I don't even have a deca
de on you.”
Her tone turned from teasing to serious. “And yet, you manage to seem so old sometimes. Why is that?”
What she meant didn't go over his head. Hell, his family had commented on his demeanor often enough. “I fucked up as a cop. I lost my wife. The respect of a lot of good people. I'm not exactly what you'd call happy-go-lucky.”
Typically, talking about any of it—losing his job, the divorce, how he felt—it tore at him. Made him feel like he was ripping open old wounds. Made him wish he was poking himself with a branding iron rather than opening up.
But with Sophia's calm eyes on him, her knowing expression, her simple nod… Relief washed over him. Like what people always said—talk about it and you'll feel better. Bullshit—most the time. But now, he could see why they said it.
Sophia leaned closer. He met her in the middle, leaned just a few inches, he could kiss her. Hell, he wanted to kiss her.
“So that begs the question,” she murmured. “How did you get fired? What kind of criminal are you, Nick Ward?”
8
A long moment passed while Nick seemed to mull his response. “I got myself into a bad situation, and when I saw an easy out, I took it.”
She just watched him, willing him to tell her more.
“Had a gambling problem. During a drug bust, I thought no one would miss a couple grand if it disappeared before it got to evidence. A dumb shit thing to do, but I justified it to myself. Told myself it was dirty money, anyway. Belonged to a drug dealer. But it was stupid. And wrong. And I justifiably lost my job over it.”
“Do you still gamble?”
He held her gaze with his own. “No, not after that.”
Given the multitude of much worse crimes that had gone through her mind as possibilities, skimming some money off the top didn't seem so bad. It wasn't violent. And it hadn't really hurt anyone. She could see how he'd been able to rationalize his decision, even though it certainly hadn't been right. It didn't make Nick a bad man—not a one-time lapse. She wasn't even sure it made him a bad cop. Unfortunately for Nick, the Chicago Police Department didn't consult her before deciding to fire people. “That's not so bad.”
Bounty and Bait: Bounty Hunters, Book One Page 6