A Safe Place

by Margaret Watson

  “I love this dress,” he whispered. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight. When you were talking to all those people, I wanted to snatch you away. Bring you back here and have you for myself.”

  She sucked lightly beneath his ear, and he shuddered. “I wanted that, too.” Her breath tickled him, made him ache. “I love what you did for me, Cal. You convinced a lot of people to give me money, but you’re the only one I saw.”

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. Frankie barely glanced at the wall of windows. She held his gaze and kissed him.

  He slid her down his body, savoring every inch of her. Ran his hands up and down her arms, relishing the contrast between soft flesh and toned muscle. “What are you wearing beneath that magical dress, Francesca?”

  She smiled at him, that siren’s smile that made him instantly hard. Then she reached for the side of the dress and slowly lowered a zipper.

  The dress fell off one shoulder and caught at her elbow. He could see her nipples harden through the fabric. When he reached for her, she lowered her other shoulder and let the dress slide to her waist.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra. He groaned.

  She smiled again. “I was going to tell you over dinner,” she said. “So I could watch your reaction.”

  “You’re a dangerous woman, Francesca.”

  Her smile faded. “Only with you, Cal. You’re the only one who sees Francesca.”

  “Everyone else is blind.” He gathered her into his arms, and the blue dress fluttered against his legs. Even through his pants, his skin burned.

  “Are you Frankie tonight?” He nuzzled her hair, drinking in the scent of grapefruit. “Or are you Francesca?”

  “Love me and find out,” she whispered, sucking lightly at his neck.

  He froze at the L word, then bent to kiss her. She wasn’t talking about love love—happily ever after, two-point-three kids, a dog. She was talking about sex. He was good at sex. He was especially good at it with Frankie.

  So he broke the kiss and tugged the dress over her hips, while she gripped his arms, the edges of her nails sharp against his skin.

  The dress puddled on the floor, and she stood in front of him wearing a suggestion of black lace. His hands shook as he caressed her ribs, her waist, her hips. I need you, Francesca. He cleared his throat. “I want you, Frankie.”

  “I want you, too, Cal.” She tugged his shirt out of his waistband and undid the cuff links, which clinked when she dropped them on his night table.

  Unbuttoning his shirt took hours. She stopped after every button, kissing his chest, caressing his back. By the time she dropped the shirt on the floor, he was shaking.

  She undid his belt and slid her fingers along his waist.He closed his eyes, trying to maintain control. He wanted to beg her to hurry, to plead with her to touch him. But she worshipped him with her hands and her mouth. Her chest rose and fell; her breath puffed against his skin. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  But she took her time. It was as if she was memorizing every inch of him. The way he tasted. The way he felt. The way he reacted to her touch.

  Finally, when she pushed his pants to the floor, he toed off his shoes and lifted her onto the bed. He was on fire, and he wanted her to burn, too. “Are you finished tormenting me?” he murmured into her ear.

  “Mmm.” She wound one leg around his, drawing him closer. “I’m just getting started.”

  “It’s my turn now.” He did his best to ignore her hands as they glided over his back and down to his hips, but he trembled above her as he brushed his mouth over her nipple. She sucked in a breath, and he smiled in satisfaction.

  He moved his attention to her other breast, swirling his tongue until she arched off the bed. When she sobbed his name, he slid down even farther. One taste and she shattered. He waited until her breathing evened, until her tremors slowed, then he came back up to start again.

  “Cal.” She lifted his head away from her breast. “I need you. Please. I’m begging you.”

  He needed her, too. He eased into her, and she reached for his hands. Palm to palm, fingers twined, watching each other, they moved together. Rose together. Came together.

  Then held each other tightly, as if they would never let go.

  THE NEXT MORNING, the sun was just rising when Cal woke up, legs tangled with Frankie’s, his arms wrapped around her. He hated like hell to leave her like this. But he had no choice.

  He drew his arms and legs away from her slowly, not wanting to wake her. When she made a tiny noise in her throat and stirred, he swung his legs to the side and stood.

  His knee ached like a son of a bitch. That was what happened when he stood for hours at a time. He flexed the joint, gritting his teeth against the pain, then hobbled into the bathroom.

  Fifteen minutes later, he stood next to the bed, watching Frankie sleep. The morning sun bathed her skin in a golden light, and he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to crawl back in there with her.

  He couldn’t. He had to go. He planted a kiss on her hair. But there would never be anyone else in this bed but Frankie. After last night, he couldn’t bring another woman here. It would be a betrayal of what he and Frankie had shared.

  Grabbing a piece of paper from his dresser, he scribbled a note and set it carefully on the mattress next to her. Then he kissed her hair one more time and walked out of the room.

  FRANKIE OPENED HER EYES, then quickly shut them. White light poured into the room, blinding her.

  She was in Cal’s bedroom. He’d made love to her last night. Just as she’d made love to him. When she got up, everything would be back to normal. He’d tease her, and she’d tease back. Just like every other morning.

  But for one night, he’d loved her.

  And she’d loved him.

  She knew this wouldn’t last. Training camp was starting in a few days, and that would be it. Cal had been clear.

  Last night, he’d used his power to put FreeZone solidly in the black. He’d taken away her money worries and made FreeZone safe for her.

  She loved him for giving her the freedom to concentrate on the kids.

  No. She loved Cal. She’d been dancing around that knowledge for a while, but didn’t want to pretend anymore. They wouldn’t have forever, but she loved him, anyway. The benefit he’d put together for her was a very small part of it.

  She loved the man he was. Loved the woman he made her. She’d lost Francesca a long time ago, and Cal had found her again.

  She opened her eyes and reached for him, but he wasn’t there. Sitting up, she held the sheet to her chest. No one could see in that window—they were too high in the air—but even so, she felt exposed.

  “Cal?”

  No answer. The apartment was silent.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and saw the piece of paper on the sheet. “Don’t worry about bakery—cleared day off with your boss. Went to rehab. Coffee in the kitchen. Last night was wonderful. I had a great time at FreeZone. With you. I’ll miss you.”

  Frankie’s heart ached as she read the note again, then set it on the night table. She’d thought they’d have the rest of the week, since he didn’t have to be at training camp until the weekend. But this sounded like goodbye.

  She subscribed to the “pull the Band-Aid off quickly” school of thought. Apparently, Cal did, too.

  She dropped the sheet and stood. Trying to ignore the pain in her chest, the ball of tears in her throat, she reminded herself that football was Cal’s life. He’d made that clear many times. Now that his community service was over, he needed to focus on football.

  His bathroom was as big as her entire bedroom. Four people would easily fit in the shower. He’d set out towels and a spare toothbrush for her. Practical.

/>   She could be as sensible as Cal. Last night had been magical. So had the past weeks with him. But that was all over. Time to get back to reality.

  The water from the rainfall showerhead washed away her tears. Once she regained control, she dried off and put her beautiful dress back on. It was a reminder of the night before. A reminder that the benefit had been Cal’s last gift to her, an end, rather than a beginning.

  She held a cold washcloth to her eyes for a long time, then folded it neatly on the sink, squared her shoulders and walked out of the bedroom.

  As she headed toward the kitchen, she spotted her purse on the hall table. She’d dropped it on the floor when Cal lifted her into his arms. Grabbing it, she stepped into his kitchen and saw that it matched the rest of his condo. Viking stove. Sub-Zero refrigerator. Granite countertops. Cherry cabinets.

  An espresso machine stood on one end of the counter, and Cal had written instructions on how to use it. She made herself a cup, then sat at the table and opened her purse.

  Twenty minutes later, she was still staring at the pile of checks on the kitchen table.

  More than thirty thousand dollars. More to come from the silent auction.

  Frankie’s hands began to shake. She had never had that much money at one time in her entire life.

  Her cheeks burned as she stuffed the pile of checks back into her purse. Cal had given FreeZone a safety net that would last for months, if not years. She would think about him every time she bought something for her kids.

  She looked around Cal’s apartment to fix everything in her memory, slid her feet into the uncomfortable shoes and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  AS FRANKIE WALKED toward her apartment, she saw a newspaper in the window of a convenience store. “DCFS” caught her eye, and her heart thudded against her chest. Lisa had told her the article would be in the paper this week, but hadn’t specified which day.

  Frankie bought a copy and hurried home. Then sank onto her couch and read the article.

  Ten minutes later, her stomach in a knot, she stood up and paced the room.

  Lisa hadn’t found any of Bascombe’s other victims and had honored Frankie’s request to stay anonymous. The reporter had made it clear she suspected there were lots more. She’d written about pedophiles and their traits. Written about Bascombe’s rise in DCFS, and the fact that until very recently he still made trips to juvie. To the teen centers in the city. That he made it sound as if he wanted to be involved. To make sure the correctional facility and the homeless shelters were doing their job.

  The article implied there was more to it than that, but Lisa was careful not to accuse.

  No one else would make the connection, but Bascombe would know the unnamed source was Frankie. She had to figure out her strategy.

  Before she could do anything, her phone rang. Nathan. “Was that article about you?” he said without preamble.

  “Yeah, it was. Patrick couldn’t find anyone else. Neither could Lisa.”

  “Marco and I are coming over. We don’t want you to be alone.”

  Her throat swelled. “You’d leave Mama’s for me?”

  “Hell, yes. You need us. We’re there.”

  So simple. And such a gift. “Stay there for now. Let me see what happens. There’s no way anyone but Bascombe would identify me, so I’m probably okay for now.”

  There was a long pause. “You sure?”

  “Yes. If I need you, I’ll come to Mama’s. Okay?”

  Another long pause. “Okay, Bunny. We love you.”

  “Love you, too, Nate.”

  Her skin felt two sizes too small for her. The newspaper article was making her jumpy. The stack of checks in her purse didn’t help. And every square inch of her apartment resonated with Cal’s presence.

  His disposable razor still sat on the edge of the sink, a fleck of dried shaving cream on the handle. One of his socks peeked out from beneath her bed. Tiny slips of paper from their fortune cookies still lay on the kitchen table. You will find happiness with a tall, dark stranger. Cal had teased her about that one. Asked her who was going to take his place when he went to training camp.

  She snatched the fortunes off the table and stuffed them into the garbage.

  She had to get out of here.

  After changing her clothes, she deposited the checks at the bank and headed for FreeZone. She could work on thank-you notes. That would keep her from thinking about Cal. At least for a little while.

  When she arrived, the door was open a crack and she could hear people moving around inside. She froze. A few battered computers were the only valuable things in there. And even those weren’t worth much.

  She cautiously stepped inside. “Who’s here?”

  Her landlord hurried out of the back room. “Frankie. I tried to call you.”

  She checked her cell phone. The missed-call icon was flashing. So was the text message one. She clicked on the text. It was from Martha. I need to talk to you.

  Making a mental note to reply as soon as possible, she slipped the phone back in her bag. “What’s up, Derek?”

  The thin man with long, stringy hair and a narrow face rubbed his hands down the sides of his worn jeans. “There are some city inspectors here. Doing, uh, inspections.”

  Bascombe. “What are they looking for?” Frankie’s voice was calm, but inside, she seethed.

  “One guy is checking the electrical system. The other guy is the health inspector. He says if you have food here, he has to check for infestations.”

  “Of what?” she asked, although she knew.

  Derek glanced toward the back room and smoothed his hair back. “You know. Rodents. Bugs.”

  “We don’t have rodents here. No bugs, either.”

  He held up his hands. “I know, Frankie. They’re not going to find anything. I spray the place regular. But they gotta look.”

  She stepped into the back room. One man was on a ladder. He’d taken apart the light fixture and was probing at the wires. He glanced at her. “You the tenant?”

  “Yes. Is everything okay?”

  “This wiring isn’t up to code. Neither is the wiring in the office.”

  “I’m sure Derek will take care of it,” she said.

  He cleared his throat. “We can’t let you operate with faulty wiring. Fire hazard.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we have to shut you down until this wiring is up to code. Your landlord needs to fix it, then we’ll come back.”

  And then they’d find something else wrong. Frankie knew how this worked. Bascombe had told the guy to make sure FreeZone stayed closed.

  She just couldn’t prove it.

  “It’s not only the wiring.” Another man stepped out of the shadows. “You’ve got signs of rodents. And roaches. You’ll have to take care of that, too.”

  “I’ve never seen a rat or a mouse here. Roaches, either.” Her face grew hot and she deliberately took a few deep breaths. Stay calm. Bascombe probably hoped she’d go off on these guys. Make them look even harder when they came back.

  “I found droppings, lady,” the inspector said, his eyes sliding away.

  She stared at him, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Finally she said, “I have kids coming in an hour. What am I supposed to do with them?”

  The health inspector shrugged. “Send them home.”

  They can’t go home, she wanted to scream. But she bit her tongue. Calm. “Are you finished?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” The building inspector climbed down from the ladder, folded it and picked up his tools. He left the fixture dangling by its wires. “When your landlord gets things taken care of, he can give us a call. We’ll schedule a return visit.�
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  And there would be scheduling problems. It would take ages for them to come back.

  She stood aside as they spoke to Derek. As she watched, Cal walked in, his determined eyes finding her immediately. He was carrying a newspaper.

  Stunned to see him, she watched as he strode over. Held up the paper. “This is you, isn’t it? That bastard molested you.”

  His voice was flat. Cold.

  Deadly.

  “Cal, there’s nothing you can do.” His arm was hard as iron when she grabbed it. “Please. Calm down.”

  “Calm down?” His voice got even quieter, a sure sign of the rage he was just barely keeping in check. “I’m supposed to ignore what he did to you?”

  “Yes! This isn’t your fight. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

  “Not my fight? When I find out a guy molested my…” He clenched his teeth. “Molested a kid? Someone I care about?” He stared down at her. “Yes, this is my fight.”

  “Not now,” she whispered. “Please. Not in front of them.” Derek and both the inspectors were watching intently.

  He looked around and scowled. “Who are these guys?”

  “My landlord. Health inspector. Building inspector. They’re closing FreeZone.”

  He stepped around her and started toward them. “The hell they are.”

  “Stop.” She grabbed his arm again. “You’ll make things worse.”

  “This is that bastard’s doing.”

  “I’m sure it is. But arguing with the inspectors won’t help. The kids will be here soon. I have to figure out what to do.”

  “Goddamn it, Frankie. Just once, can you put yourself first?”

  “So I’m supposed to turn them loose? Let them wander the streets until they can go home?”

  “What about that church where you park your car? Do they have meeting space?”

  “I have no idea. I just use the lot.”

  “You wait for the kids. I’ll go talk to them.” He stared at the inspectors, who looked away and cleared their throats. “I’ll be right back.”