“Hi. Don’t you live over on Delaware?” a dark-haired woman with pretty eyes and a wide smiled asked her.
“Um…yeah. I do. Do I know you?” Chelsea had been surprised by her question. She knew the two women looked familiar. Did they live by her? Were they neighbors?
By this time, the blonde and very pregnant girl had turned around also. “Yeah, you live over on Delaware, all right. Right across from Cullen and Colleen, right?”
Oh! That’s what it was. Now, Chelsea remembered where she had seen them before. “Yes. Almost directly across the street, as a matter of fact. I’ve seen you both over there a few times. Are you their daughters?”
Her question caused the two women to laugh. “No. No, but they sure feel like our parents sometimes,” the dark-haired woman answered. “I’m Shelby. This here is Tamara.”
“Hi.” Tamara held out her hand.
Shaking the two women’s hands, she introduced herself. “I’m Chelsea. It’s so nice to meet you. I just moved to the area not too long ago and haven’t met too many people.”
Tamara cocked her head to one side. “Well, that’s no good at all. We’ll just have to see about changing that, won’t we?”
Chelsea’s raised her brows, and she smiled. “You don’t even know me.”
“No, but I know Colleen likes you. That’s enough for me,” Shelby answered.
“She said that? She’s a sweet lady. Actually, I’m going over there for dinner this evening. I actually tried to gently turn her down, but she was so adamant and—what?” Chelsea stopped at the suspicious looks on both of the women’s faces.
Shelby reached for Chelsea’s hand and studied her ring finger. “Are you with anyone? Married, engaged, or dating anyone at all?”
“No. Why?” She wondered why their expressions had changed so suddenly.
Shelby, who was now laughing, answered her. “Sweetie. Oh, you have no idea, do you? No, of course you don’t.” She turned to Tamara, who continued with the explanation.
“You’re being set up, hon. Sorry, Colleen means well, but she is bound and determined to marry Cullen Jr. off and see to it that he starts giving her lots and lots of grandchildren.”
Chelsea stood there, a bit unsure of how to respond. “What? I don’t even know their son. I mean, I’ve seen him a couple of times before. He’s the cop, right?” She waited for both women to nod until she continued. “Why would she do that? I don’t even know him.”
Shelby put her arm around Chelsea and smiled at her. “Honey, there’s no stopping a force like Colleen Bristow. You’re best to just go tonight, let her do her matchmaking thing, and see what happens. If you don’t, she will hound you until you give in anyway.”
“She’s right, Chelsea. Just go and try to enjoy yourself. Cullen’s a sweet man, and who knows, you might like him.” Tamara gave her a sympathetic smile. “Now, please can we order? I’m starving!”
Chelsea and Shelby both laughed.
Twenty minutes later, all three women were laughing as they talked and got to know one another. Chelsea learned of their connection to the Bristows and how they met when Jack bought Tamara’s engagement ring at the Bristows’ jewelry store.
She also listened sympathetically as she learned of all the troubles the two couples had gone through in the past year and half. Between Jack and Tamara having to survive the wrath of Brent Townsend, Tamara’s ex-boyfriend, and Rex and Shelby having to endure the healing of her rape and abuse as well as a stalker, Chelsea wondered how these two women sitting before her were even able to smile.
In addition to her admiration of the two women, she realized that they gave her hope. Sure, the abuse that Chelsea had gone through seemed minute in comparison to what they had. It still gave her some small sense of belief that maybe she could find happiness someday also.
She had been thinking of this when she almost choked on her diet soda. Surely, she hadn’t heard the question right. Tamara couldn’t have just said what she thought she heard.
“What did you just say?” she asked her wearily.
“I asked if you’d met your neighbor Adam yet,” Tamara repeated.
“No, you didn’t. You asked if I met your friend Adam yet,” Chelsea answered.
Shelby nodded as she finished chewing on a bite of sandwich. “Oh, I get it. Yes, Tamara, she’s met him. That’s why she looks so unhappy about it.”
Tamara looked at Shelby incredulously. “What? You don’t like him?”
Chelsea’s mouth dropped open at her question. “No. I don’t. At all!”
Tamara was about to respond when Shelby held up her hand in interruption. “Come on, Tam. Really? Let’s not kid ourselves here. He is kind of an asshole.”
“Kind of?” Chelsea asked. “He’s a complete and total asshole.”
Tamara’s mouth dropped open. “He’s not that bad. I mean, he’s a little rough around the edges, but that’s understandable, seeing as how it was only a little over a year ago that—”
“Tamara! Why don’t we talk about something else, huh?” Shelby told her, didn’t ask, as she attempted to change the subject.
“Sure. So, Chelsea. Where did you say you moved here from?”
Chelsea wiped her mouth with her napkin and considered her options. She could tell them the truth. She had nothing really to hide. The biggest obstacle had always been her embarrassment over what had happened. Deciding there was really no reason to not be truthful, she went ahead.
“I moved here from Phoenix a little over a month ago. I stayed in a motel by the airport for a few days until I found this place.”
The peculiarity of her comment struck Shelby. “You mean you didn’t have a place to live before you moved here?”
Chelsea just shook her head as she took a drink of her soda.
“Can we ask why?” Tamara questioned.
Chelsea wondered if she should tell them. It wasn’t her fault. She did nothing wrong. Isn’t that what the victim’s advocate had told her over and over again? The truth was, though, that she couldn’t get past her own humiliation that she let it go on for so long. That in itself made her feel like a failure as a woman and took away any right she had to the word victim. Sure, she knew that the studies and general consensus was that she was a victim of domestic violence, but she felt more like an enabler than a victim. Nevertheless, for some reason, she trusted the two women sitting across from her, so she decided to be honest.
“I sort of left town in a hurry. My fiancé had a slight drug problem. Okay, no, that’s not exactly true. He had a huge drug problem.” She saw the two women eye each other speculatively. “It’s not like that. He wasn’t always into them.” She felt the small sting of tears hit her eyes and held them tightly closed.
“Honey, you don’t have to tell us any of this.” Tamara comforted her by placing a hand over hers.
“She’s right. It’s your business. We shouldn’t have asked.” Shelby tried to ease her discomfort.
Chelsea took a deep breath and exhaled what felt like a ton of air. “No. It’s okay. Sorry, I…It’s been a while since I talked about it. Truth is I don’t really talk about it. I know I should. I just…” And there they came. The tears. The annoying things that came to her more often than not and she tried to desperately to keep at bay.
“Oh, stop that right now. You can’t cry. I’m eight months pregnant. If you cry…then…I’m gonna…oh, crap…come here.” Tamara walked around the table and hugged Chelsea as the two of them cried in unison.
“Girls.” Shelby motioned her hands around the room. “People are starting to stare.”
Tamara and Chelsea laughed. “I’m sorry,” Chelsea said. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. Maybe you’re not ready to talk about it. Do you think we could all get together sometime? We could have a girl’s night out.” Shelby glanced at Tamara’s growing stomach. “Although, we would have to make it sooner rather than later.”
“Cute.” Tamara smirked at her
friend.
Chelsea watched the two friends and envied them their closeness. It was then that it hit her she hadn’t been paying close attention to the time. She looked at her watch and almost cursed aloud.
“Oh, no. Sorry, guys, I’m late for an appointment. Um…here.” She dug in her purse for one of her business cards. “My cell phone number is there. Call me, okay? I had a great time. Thanks so much.” Chelsea ran out the door with a wave of her hand and raced cross the street.
She made it to the front door of her studio just as Christina and her parents had walked up as well. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m running behind from a lunch appointment.” It was a lie but a small one at that. She didn’t want to appear unprofessional.
“It’s no problem. We’re very excited to see the pictures, though, aren’t we, Christina?” Mrs. Garton said as she gave her daughter a pleading look.
“Yes, we are, Mrs. Hart.” The young girl gave her best attempt at a smile but failed miserably.
“Actually, Christina, it’s Ms. Hart. Why don’t you come inside and see how your pictures turned out. I’m sure you’ll really like them.” Chelsea unlocked the front door to her studio and led them inside. Not before she heard the young girl mutter, “I doubt it.”
Chelsea felt so bad for the girl. She knew how she must be feeling insecure, not wanting to see pictures that only showed her what she saw in the mirror every day.
“You all have a seat, and I’ll be right out.” She went into her darkroom to retrieve the photos, which had been hanging to dry.
Once she had retrieved all of the proofs from their hanging positions underneath the clothespins, she walked back out into the room and felt her heart break just a little for the scene before her. Christina’s father, Mr. Garton, was holding his daughter’s hand and whispering to her.
“No, sweetheart, you are beautiful. You’re my baby, and no silly acne is gonna make me think you are anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”
Chelsea coughed a little to clear her throat as she walked toward them, giving them the opportunity to change the subject before she intruded any more on their private moment.
Sitting down across from them, she laid out the pictures in a fan motion on the table. A feeling of proud accomplishment filled her. Christina’s young face lit up at the sight of her retouched photos. Her parents both looked equally as pleased, but there was more there in their eyes than smiles and happiness. She watched as both parents were forced to wipe their eyes to keep the tears from flowing.
Christina looked up and showed her huge, beautiful smile. “These are really me? I can’t believe it…I look so pretty.”
Mr. Garton reached over and took his daughter’s hand in his. “You are pretty, sweetheart. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. These blemishes mean nothing. You are beautiful.”
The love of a father and daughter had never been so clearly evident as the two hugged. Mrs. Garton looked to Chelsea and mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to which Chelsea smiled, nodded, and whispered right back, “You’re welcome.”
Chapter 5
Adam watched as she pulled into her driveway. He was standing at his mailbox and felt that familiar stir in his jeans at the sight of her as she leaned into her car and gave him a gorgeous view of her ass, which was wrapped snugly in those form-fitting jeans. He wanted to go inside, needed to walk away from the sight of her, but couldn’t. A force out of his control made him to walk toward her.
Chelsea was retrieving the bottle of wine she bought from the passenger side seat when she stilled. Adam knew she felt his presence. She quickly turned and stood only to find herself, her body, and her mouth inches from Adam. The surprise on her face gave him the itch to grab her and kiss the shock right out of her
She was so startled she dropped the bottle of wine and gasped in horror as she watched it fall. Adam quickly grabbed it, stopping it from falling and shattering.
Adam grinned at her, watching her expression and loving the fire he saw in her eyes. He wondered if she even knew it was there. “Here you go, sugar.” He winked at her.
“I thought I told you not to call me that,” she told him in an irritated tone.
Her coldness toward him only increased his need to tease her. “Sorry. You never told me your name.” He leaned closer to her. “But since you look so sweet, I thought Sugar seemed appropriate.”
“I’m not sweet at all. As a matter of fact, I’m very sour, so why don’t you just leave me alone. You stay on your side of the fence, and I’ll stay on mine.”
He grinned at her challenge. The poor thing had no idea whom she was up against in this challenge they had going with one another. “Sour…mmm…I gotta tell you, Sugar, I love sour, too. It makes my mouth pucker up.”
Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me.” She pushed him aside, slammed her car door, and headed for her house. She was almost inside when Adam yelled to her.
“Oh, sugar? You forgot the wine.”
She turned back around as he held it out to her. Stalking back in obvious annoyance, she grabbed the bottle from his hand and without another word walked straight for the front door, slamming it once inside.
Adam grinned. “Sour, indeed, but so very sweet.”
He couldn’t help but stare at her door for a moment or two longer than necessary as he remembered the way he saw her eyes light up when he leaned in close to her. She might act cold and frigid when she was near him, but he knew from the heat he saw that she was only putting on an act. He was quite sure that his little sugar was quite aware of the attraction that was building between them.
He walked back over to his house across their two lawns and wondered what her name was. Sure, the name sugar fit, despite her remark that she was sour. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what name really went that that pretty face and drop-dead-gorgeous, sexy body.
Adam walked into his house and closed the door. He quickly flipped through the mail and stopped when he came to a large, brown envelope addressed to him in big, bold, black letters with no return address.
Could this be it? Was he finally getting the information he had been waiting for for over a year now since he woke up in that hospital bed? He threw the other mail down on the entryway table and went to sit at his kitchen table.
He placed the envelope down, pressing his hands against the wood grain of the table. He was trying but failing at steadying his hands. He took several deep breaths and reached for the flap that was not only glued down but held with a metal clasp.
Unhinging the clasp, he slid his finger under the small opening at the side. Slipping his finger underneath, he slowly, so not to tear it, opened the envelope until he was able to completely reach inside it to get its contents.
Adam pulled out the photographs and pictures, unsure if he was really going to be able to handle the memories that went along with what he was about to find out.
The top page of the documents was a letter, outlining what he owed for services rendered. He quickly tossed that aside and checked to see what was next. There, underneath that letter, was a photograph. Not just any photograph, but one that held the image of the man who had changed his life.
Standing near a car, smoking a cigarette under the guise of a baseball cap and dark glasses, was Danny Bianchi. Adam literally felt his heart beat faster and his blood heat from the intensity of his hatred for this man. How could he stand there so callously smoking a cigarette as though he hadn’t killed a woman and her…? He stopped his thoughts before they took him to the place that made him remember the pain of all that he’d lost.
He tried not to crumble the photo as he thumbed through all the pages that were enclosed. A sickening twist tightened and held on to his gut. If he had been able to hire a private detective smart enough to find Bianchi, why the hell hadn’t the cops been able to locate him?
Something caught his eye on one of the papers he had set aside. He picked it up and studied the words carefully. Surely, he must be reading it wrong. There w
as no way that his government, the same government that ran this country that he loved, that he fought for for ten years, would do such a thing. It had to be a mistake.
As he thumbed through a few more pages, he looked for a clue, any kind of proof that what he read was a mistake. He slammed his fist down on the table and flung the pages across the room. It was no mistake. What he read was not only true, it had been carefully documented amongst the ranks.
Adam had given ten years of his life to this country. He agreed to testify despite Ally begging him not to and went against her pleas. For all that, what had been their thanks to him? To put the asshole who stole everything from him in protective custody as a witness for the prosecution against the Bianchi drug cartel.
The asshole murders dozens, including putting a hit out on him, and turns on the family that he killed all those people for, and the government rewards him?
He stood up from the table and reached underneath it, flipping it on its side as he screamed in a rage not unlike that of an animal. Fury coursed through his veins at the thought of all the lies, all the untruths he had been told over the last year. They couldn’t find him, didn’t know where he was hiding. They were the ones fucking hiding the son of a bitch!
Adam stalked back toward his bedroom and reached in the top of his closet. The corner of his eye caught Ally’s picture, and he hesitated just for a moment. He knew she wouldn’t want vengeance. He couldn’t help himself, though. He had to have it. For her, for him, for…it had to happen.
Just as he pulled his gun’s lockbox down from the top shelf, he heard the doorbell. He stilled his movements and listened. There was no one he was expecting, so he waited for them to go away. After a moment, he heard pounding on the door. Pissed that whoever it was wouldn’t take the hint and just leave, he flung the gun’s lockbox on his bed and stomped to the front of his house.
Morgan, Nicole - Sweet Vengeance [Sweet Awakenings 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3