He woke up in the middle of the night, his mouth dry as sandpaper. He was halfway out of bed before searing pain reminded him he needed to favor his wounded side. He grit his teeth against the ache in his shoulder as he made his way out of the bedroom. Water. Pain pill. Food. In that order. He paused to glance into the living room, where Carmen lay asleep on his couch, dressed in a pair of his sweats, all curled up around a blissful Owl.
Lucky cat, JR thought, walking over to the couch. As though the feline had read his mind, he looked up at him through amber eyes, opened his mouth, yawned, then gave a small, satisfied “Mew.”
“Don’t rub it in,” JR whispered, scratching the animal behind his ears. As he gazed again at Carmen’s lovely face, all thoughts of getting a drink of water or food or a pill vanished.
The Carmen ache in his heart was back. He couldn’t put it off any longer; he needed to tell her how he felt. Even if it wasn’t returned—he’d deal with that when, and if, it happened. Truth-telling was important to JR; anything other than coming clean with her wasn’t valuing himself and his standards.
Hold it. What was he thinking? Carmen was in danger. Their private lives, any romantic or sexual considerations, had to wait until they knew where the danger came from and how to defuse it.
Good intentions were admirable, but they didn’t prevent him from being blindsided when he walked into the bathroom to get a pain pill and was greeted by the sight of her damp undies and bra hanging over the shower stall. They were pale peach and sheer and extremely feminine. Just looking at them, he felt himself grow hard as the proverbial rock.
JR might have decided to put the discussion of his and Carmen’s relationship temporarily on hold, but his body hadn’t gone along with the plan. Damn, he thought. His shoulder was killing him, the woman he loved was a target and he had a good, old-fashioned boner. Didn’t get much more surreal than that.
At the West L.A. police station, this time they sat in an interview room, the kind with one-way mirrors, cameras and recording devices. And this time, it wasn’t Mac conducting the investigation, but a detective Jackson Rutherford, who, Carmen decided instantly, could have gotten a callback on an audition for Tough Cop Number One. Short hair, the “I need a shave but so what?” look, buffed body, hard eyes, a mouth unfamiliar with smiling—Rutherford would always be the perennial bad cop in the bad cop/good cop game. If there were any warmth or compassion in the man, it sure wasn’t there on his face.
He made her shiver, even though she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about, as he rattled off questions at her. She answered as best she could. JR interrupted a lot, slowed her down, slowed Rutherford down, which pissed him off, she could tell. The enmity between the two men had been obvious the moment they’d met, but remained just below the surface.
At one point, she glanced over at Mac. So far, the brown-skinned detective had stayed in the background, hadn’t opened his mouth, let Rutherford do all the questioning. She wondered if he’d been ordered to step back, or what. She smiled at him; he didn’t smile back, but she could have sworn he winked. Just a quick little flicker of an eyelid. It might have been her imagination, but it warmed her.
She answered question after question about Tio. Then the questions became more personal. About her life, her entire life. Her so-so grades, her spotty work history, the men in her past, losers, all of them. Maybe not as bad as Tio, but in the ballpark. How had she let her life get so far away from her?
It was when Rutherford insinuated—no, more than insinuated this time, suggested—that she was more involved in her ex’s drug deals than it appeared on the surface, that JR scraped back his chair and stood. “That’s it. Interview over.”
“Pardon me?” Rutherford said with an arched eyebrow.
“You’re getting perilously close to hinting that my client has broken the law in a serious way, and has somehow played a part in causing someone to come after her. That is not only unfair and patently untrue, it lets me know that you’re fishing. You have two incidents, a murder and an attempted murder. Do your work, Detective. Don’t start flinging accusations where there is no basis.” He walked over to the door, pushed it open and nodded to Carmen. “Come on, Carmen, we’re out of here.”
“I’m not done yet,” Rutherford said.
“We are,” JR replied firmly.
Rutherford didn’t stop them, couldn’t, really, unless he wanted to arrest her, and JR had explained that they had no basis for doing so. As they walked away from the interview room, Carmen took a look at his face. He was still scowling, the muscles along his jawline working overtime.
“Hey,” she said. “You may not be a D.A. anymore, but you sure know your stuff. And you can quit acting now.”
“It wasn’t an act.”
“Really? You seemed so pissed off, I thought it was one of your lawyer maneuvers.”
He muttered a word he rarely used in her presence. “No, it was real. With the way Rutherford was talking to you, I nearly grabbed him by the tie and knocked his head off. Until I remembered that one arm was in a sling.” He shot her a look filled with self-disgust. “I couldn’t detach, the way a lawyer is supposed to. I couldn’t keep my cool.”
“Just like Tommy Spencer.”
“Who?”
“In the park back when I was in the fourth grade. He was teasing me and I was crying and you came running up and pushed him, remember? And he was, like, thirty pounds heavier than you and he pushed you back?”
His small chuckle was not amused. “Yeah, well, that’s childhood stuff and this is now.”
Mac caught up to them as they were exiting the police station. “I got a line on your car, Counselor. Come on, I’ll take you to the towing facility.”
JR sat in the back of Mac’s car during the trip. Carmen could see that, one, he was in a lot of pain but not complaining and, two, he was still unable to shake his anger. At Rutherford or at himself, she couldn’t tell.
“Take a pain pill, JR. You don’t have to be on your toes anymore.”
Muttering, he reached into his pocket for his medication.
Carmen turned to Mac. “What was up with that detective?”
“I know he was hard on you, but believe it or not, Rutherford’s a decent cop with a good record. He was just following orders.”
“But what were they looking for?”
“Whatever they could find. See, the powers that be have decided that you’re probably right—the threat isn’t coming from Tio himself.”
“Told you.”
“Not Tio himself,” JR said from the backseat. “But still something to do with Tio, right?”
Mac nodded. “There’s a new theory—the drug payback one.”
“The what?” Carmen asked.
“Your ex, before he skipped town, owed a bunch of money to some of the higher-ups on the drug chain. Nasty customers, trust me. They can’t find him, so the theory is that by ordering your execution, they let Schluter know they mean business.”
“But that’s insane,” she protested. “It would only work if I meant something to him, which I don’t. If I ever did.”
“Maybe so, but it’s all we have at the moment.” He stopped for a red light. “Meanwhile, the captain has asked for protection for you. Someone will be on guard by tonight. Will you be staying at the counselor’s place?”
“Definitely,” JR said. “What about the rest of the day?”
“You haven’t been tailed so far today. I’ve been checking. Now, I have no idea just how thorough your assassin is,” he told Carmen. “If they’re watching your place, or JR’s, if they have access to credit card use info, if there’s more than one of them.” He shrugged, met JR’s gaze in the mirror. “Know what I think? Don’t go back to your place until later. The two of you should get lost. In fact, as a safety precaution, take your car to a rental place, leave it there, and rent another one, then take a long drive. By the time you get back to your place tonight, we’ll have two cops in an unmarked car keeping watch.”
Now, he directed his tired brown eyes at Carmen; his gaze was both world-weary and kind. “Stay alert. Don’t take chances. I wish I could promise you that we’ll keep you safe, but the bad guys win more often than we do, so it’s up to you. Got it?”
She nodded. Oh, yes, she got it. She might live to be ninety.
On the other hand, her time on this planet might not last another day.
Chapter 6
After Mac dropped them off that morning, JR took a pain pill and slept most of the day while Carmen drove them in a rented Taurus to the desert and back. In the early evening they wound up on the patio of Ciudad, a trendy restaurant with great food, thanks to two terrific female chefs. It was JR’s favorite restaurant and he’d been meaning to bring Carmen here for ages. This small, safe oasis was located right in the heart of downtown L.A., protected from the traffic noise on Figueroa by high stone walls and foliage.
His shoulder felt stiff but manageable so he decided to forego any more pain medication; instead he ordered them martinis and listened as a trio played quiet jazz in the corner. He gazed across the table at Carmen, who seemed fairly relaxed. The drive, the day away from tension, had done her some good, too.
“How are you, Carm?” he asked quietly.
“Right now? In heaven. I love this place.”
“Wait ’til you taste the food.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back. He was struck by the picture she made: Carmen lit by the soft shadows of twilight. Blond, shaggy hair framed her pretty face, her large brown eyes, her pretty nose, her soft mouth. It was one of those moments he wanted to capture forever.
The martinis arrived and he raised his glass. “To my driver. Thank you for getting us here safely and in one piece.”
She picked up her glass. “To my passenger and his miraculous powers of healing.”
He chuckled. “Good thing the bullet wasn’t very deep, but yes, I am starting to feel like a human being again.”
“You look like one. Your color has returned.”
“All I needed was a long car ride and sleep.” He took a sip of his drink, savored it, then set it down. It had been a good decision to forego pain meds in favor of cocktails. “It’s funny, when I was a baby, apparently I was colicky and the only way my parents could get me to sleep was to throw me in my car seat and take a long drive. Worked every time. Still does, I guess.”
“Speaking of your family, how are your parents? You rarely mention them.”
“They’re fine. They’re on a cruise at the moment. With a bunch of my father’s golfing buddies. First class all the way, of course. It’s how Father and Mother do things,” he said fondly. “Hot and cold, running servants to see to their every need.”
She took another drink, then shook her head. “Father and Mother.”
“What about them?”
“You’ve always called them that—‘Father and Mother.’ Not ‘Mom and Dad.’”
“They’re not the ‘Mom and Dad’ type,” he said easily, enjoying the camaraderie, the ease of conversation between them. Just the way it used to be. It was as though by mutual agreement, they’d decided to suspend reality and not talk about the events of the past week.
“Remember,” he said, “they had me when they were quite a bit older, and they came from that New England Brahmin class.”
“Yeah. They’re nice, though. They’ve always been very nice to me.”
“That’s because they like you. You’re not what they’re used to, but they like you. Maybe not that first time I brought you home. Remember?”
“How could I forget? That huge house in Brentwood? A real butler and maid, this tray of cookies and fresh lemonade—squeezed from actual lemons?” She sipped some more of her martini, licked her lips, then chuckled. “And you were actually called ‘Master Ewing.’”
“Which made you crack up and tease me the rest of the day. ‘Yes, Master, No, Master, What does Master want to do now? Does Master enjoy Monopoly, or would Master prefer table tennis?’ That evening, I put my foot down with my parents and told them we had to become less formal with each other.” He chuckled. “They had no idea what I was talking about.”
“I teased you unmercifully.” Her smile was mischievous.
“Yeah, you did.” He smiled back. “I needed teasing, Carm. It got me out of myself. It got me to see that there was another, more…casual way to live. You taught me that.”
“I also taught you how to set off stink bombs,” she said proudly.
“A most valuable talent to possess.”
“Well, it’s mutual, you know. I mean, this teaching thing. You taught me how to listen to a Bach concerto, you know, all about counterpoint and stuff? And got me reading mysteries. And taught me how to drive a stick shift.”
Again, they exchanged grins. And again, he was reminded of all the years of being friends and showing each other new worlds, the fact that they were so different and yet managed to get along so very well. And how very much he cherished her.
“We’re good together, Carm,” he said.
“That we are.”
He raised his glass again. “To our friendship. Long may it reign.”
“Oh, yes.” Again, they clinked glasses and drank.
Carmen had never held her liquor well, which was why she didn’t drink much, as a rule. But tonight she would make an exception. The music was mellow; cool autumn breezes were offset by outdoor heaters. The drinks warmed her system. Being here with JR was—well, he’d always had the most amazing ability to make her feel special; tonight was no different.
Being here with him made her forget.
Well, almost.
“What’s up, Carm?”
JR had caught her staring into the middle distance during a lull in the conversation. So she sighed and told him, “I’m sorry you had to hear all that stuff about my former boyfriends.”
He reached across the table with his right hand, took her hand in his and squeezed it. “Nothing I didn’t know about already.” He rubbed his fingertips over her knuckles. “I was there, remember? Especially when each one of them became history?”
“Yes, but, I never told you everything. I kept some stuff back. And then, today, I didn’t. I couldn’t. That detective kept digging and digging. And, I don’t know, I just didn’t need you to hear about all my exes and their loser lifestyles, all at one time. It’s a shabby little list. And it made me feel kind of shabby, too.”
“Carm—” he began.
She removed her hand from his and held it up, palm out, to stop what she was sure was going to be some words of reassurance. “It’s not about you judging me, JR.” She wrinkled her nose as she realized that wasn’t quite true. “Well, maybe a little. But the truth is, I was the one who didn’t want to hear all those details today. It made me face the fact that, well, you said it the other night. My instinct when it comes to men sucks, and it’s not a pretty picture. Time and again, I keep choosing the wrong guy. Men who don’t really care about who or what I am, inside. Who don’t value me.”
“Well, then, all of them were idiots,” he said loyally.
“But why, JR? Why did I choose them?”
“We’ve talked about this before. That little self-esteem issue of yours.”
“Little?” She gave a derisive snort.
“All your life, you’ve always compared yourself to your family.”
“Isn’t that what every kid does?”
“I’m an only child, so I really don’t know. But it’s counterproductive as hell. I mean, all of us are better or worse or the same as the guy next to us. But to live your life wondering what rung of the ladder you’re on keeps you in perpetual dissatisfaction. You’re special, Carmen. You’re like…sunshine. So bright, so interesting. And so loved, by your family, your friends. By me. Isn’t that enough?”
His praise brought a pleased flush to her skin. “Oh, JR. You’re the best. And right now, as we’re sitting here, yes, it’s enough.” She frowned. “But then I go job-h
unting or try to do a crossword puzzle or make my checkbook balance and it’s not enough.”
“No one can do it all. We need to respect what we do have, make it work for us.”
She looked down at the table and played with a fork, pushing it back and forth. “Funny, Mom said something similar when I was up there.”
“Grace is a very wise woman.”
Out of nowhere, she remembered something she’d thought about yesterday. “Hey! We’re doing it again.”
“Doing what again?”
“Talking about me. We always wind up talking about me, about my problems. Why don’t we ever talk about you, JR?”
He seemed taken aback. “What about me?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you have any problems you want to talk over with me? I mean, maybe I can help you with them.”
“I’m sure you could. I just…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She emitted a loud sigh. “Is this one of those male/female things, where the woman wants to talk about feelings and the guy would rather have a root canal? Are we like that, JR?” She shuddered. “Like everyone else? God, that’s awful.”
He laughed. “Maybe we are just like everyone else.” He lifted his glass, clinked it to hers, then drained it. “To being a cliché.”
“A cliché,” Carmen agreed.
He set down his glass then held up his index finger. “But, wait a minute. I did talk to you. Back when I was deciding whether or not to leave the D.A.’s office, remember? And you told me that if I didn’t love what I was doing I needed to get out of there and find my—what was the word? My joy.”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“And last year I asked you about Eloise.”
“That’s right. You wanted to know what was the kindest way to break up with her.”
“See? I have talked about myself.”
“Twice is not a lot, JR,” Carmen pointed out.
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