Reckless Road

by Feehan, Christine

  Anat shook her head. “Horus, my husband, wasn’t a man to buy me jewelry, because I didn’t ever wear it. He made things with his own two hands for me. He wrote me poetry. Those were the things I treasured. My granddaughter is my greatest treasure. The ankle bells that were my mother’s. The ones that were my Amara’s—my daughter. They didn’t get those, because they weren’t kept in the jewelry box. They were angry that I had so little in the way of jewels. I had cash, which I gave to them. It was in a drawer in the kitchen. But there was nothing to tell my friends.”

  Player could have told them Anat would never risk her granddaughter’s life even if she did have jewels, although they hadn’t told the police that someone had attempted to kidnap Zyah. They hadn’t because Player had shot two men. Now those men were dead.

  As if Jonas could read his mind, the sheriff brought the subject back to the two dead men. “The robbers only have to believe there’s something of value here, Anat. They have someone in town working with them. Someone who knows all of your friends. Someone you talk to and who has been inside this house.”

  “Please don’t scare my grandmother,” Zyah objected. She shifted as if she might get up. Player put a restraining hand on her thigh, so she reached out to take her grandmother’s hand instead. “You have no idea how difficult it’s been for her to try to feel safe in her own home after what happened to her. Those men broke into our home and robbed her. They beat her.”

  To Player’s horror, there was a little sob in her voice. He immediately wrapped his arm around her head and turned her face into his chest.

  “I know you’re trying to help them, Jonas, but neither of these women has a clue why these men wanted to target them in the first place. They have no idea if they’re still being targeted.”

  “I’m not making this up, Player,” Jonas said quietly. “These men came back a second time, and if I’m right about what happened a few weeks ago, they targeted this house a third time. That means this gang is way off their normal pattern. If that’s the case, something very big is making them risk getting caught when they wouldn’t ordinarily take chances.”

  That gave Player pause. Jonas was right. Code had already given Torpedo Ink the information that this particular gang of thieves would always grab and move on to the next small town. They targeted a small group of elderly and got out fast before law enforcement even knew they were around. They didn’t hit the same house twice, let alone try to kidnap a member of the household. That was way off the norm. They’d already hit four homes. They had come to Anat’s house on three occasions. They hadn’t returned because Torpedo Ink was there.

  “Their violence has been escalating. They’ve always been willing to kill. They get rid of their insider once they leave,” Jonas continued. “But they’ve never deviated from their pattern of hitting four or five houses and leaving town fast. That’s how they never get caught.”

  “Maybe it isn’t the same gang,” Player ventured. He could feel Zyah tensing. She had spent so much time—too much time—healing his fractured mind that it was impossible for her to hide much from him. As far as Zyah knew, they had nothing of worth in their home that robbers would want.

  Anat leaned so far forward in her wheelchair that Player actually put out a hand as if he could catch her if she fell. Maestro and Jackson did the same. She ignored them all, looking directly into the sheriff’s eyes.

  “I would never, ever, under any circumstances, risk my granddaughter’s life. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t give to a kidnapper, robber or killer to get her back. She is my entire world. She is my everything. I have nothing that I can think of that these people want. Whoever this insider is, this informant is, they know more about my household than I do.”

  Player felt his gut clench but kept the expressionless mask on his face in the ensuing silence. Jonas Harrington and Jackson Deveau would never miss a mistake like the one Anat had just made. The older woman sat back in her wheelchair, having made her point.

  Anat sipped at her tea, looking regal. As far as Player was concerned, she was magnificent. He didn’t remember having a grandmother. Or really, even, a mother. The weeks spent with Anat Gamal had been one of the best experiences of his life. She was intelligent, had a tremendous sense of humor and told him countless stories of places and occurrences in her past that were fascinating to him. She was a wealth of knowledge, and he did his best to learn from her.

  When her friends came to visit, he tried to make himself scarce, but she never tried to hide his presence. She wasn’t embarrassed to have a biker and his friends around. He just plain liked her, even though she’d just made a huge mistake and most likely, although inadvertently, thrown him under the bus.

  “Kidnapper?” Jonas echoed, sitting up straight. He exchanged a brief look with his deputy. “Did someone attempt to kidnap your granddaughter? Is that what happened here a few weeks ago?”

  Anat frowned. “What are you talking about? Nothing happened a few weeks ago. I was just reassuring you, I would never value anything more than I would my granddaughter. There isn’t anything in this house. There isn’t, Jonas. I know you’re worried. Player’s worried. So is Zyah.” She looked at Maestro and then into the shadows. “All of you are. I would tell you if I had anything worth them coming back for, but I don’t.” A little shiver went through her. “They scare me. I don’t want them coming back.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid, Anat,” Destroyer’s voice came out of the shadows. “We’re here, and the sheriff has been doing extra patrols. No one is going to hurt you again.”

  TEN

  “I don’t understand you, Player.” Anat gave an exaggerated sigh. “You and my granddaughter seemed very close, kissing on the couch in front of the police, and now you barely speak to each other. I thought you’d worked everything out at last. You say you have to leave and yet you still seem to have such vicious headaches. I know this isn’t the best thing for you. Did you have a fight? An argument? Couples get angry with each other. It’s called passion. You have passion between you—anyone can see this.”

  “She kissed me in order to stop Jonas from asking questions, that was all.” It was an honest answer, whether Player wanted it to be or not.

  Anat had gotten so much stronger just in the weeks he’d been there. Her arm was definitely better, as were her spirits. Even her broken leg was better, according to the doctor, and would soon be ready again to try physical therapy. There was brightness back in her eyes and she smiled often. He hated to leave too, but it wasn’t safe being around Zyah anymore. And it was extremely difficult to be in the same room and know he could never have her. He wanted her permanently, not for a quick fuck—and he couldn’t even have that. His body was getting to the point he was afraid he might shatter.

  Anat was silent for a moment and then she shook her head. “I promised myself I wouldn’t interfere, but I’m old, Player, and I don’t have time to wait around until the two of you figure it out. Zyah came home in tears some weeks ago, devastated by the behavior of a man she had been with. You, clearly, are that man.”

  Player took a breath. That hit him hard. Zyah crying. Devastated. He’d done that to her. Anat, a woman he respected and admired, knowing. That struck him deep. He pressed his palm hard over his heart. “That was me.” He was responsible. “I’d been several days without sleep and for some reason when I don’t sleep, I get confused. I always have. I can’t think straight. Things get mixed up in my head, so reality and dreams mix together. I didn’t think she was real. That isn’t a good excuse. I went looking for her immediately and tried to apologize, but it was too late. I really hurt her, and then this happened.” He touched the wrap on his head.

  “What exactly did happen? I know what Zyah told me happened that night, but clearly, there is much more to the story. I thought about it after Jonas left the other night. He was so certain you had something to do with those men the fishermen had pulled out of the sea. Did someone try to kidnap my granddaughter?” She as
ked the question directly, her eyes looking so much like Zyah’s, boring straight into his.

  He wanted to dismiss her. Walk away. But this was Zyah’s grandmother. This was Anat Gamal, and he respected her too much to lie.

  “Yes. They were waiting in the garage for her and they attacked her. I managed to get in under the door before it closed, but they came at me with a baseball bat and then a gun. I did roll over the hood of her car. Things happened very fast. Seconds. No more than two minutes. They ran. I never saw their faces, but there was a woman with them and she was yelling, wanting them to hurt Zyah. I felt she knew Zyah and that it was personal for her.” He was hoping to distract Anat’s attention from the two dead men Jonas had brought up.

  “You and Zyah thought it best not to call the police?” There was no judgment. With Anat, he never found there was.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, Anat. Torpedo Ink and the police don’t always see eye to eye. We get blamed for a lot of things. We were escorting Zyah home. She works for us and it was late. Czar heard about the robbery and what happened to you, so he told us that Zyah was to have someone escort her home every night that she worked late. Normally, there would have been two of us, but Maestro had returned to the club to pick up a couple of things before he caught up with us. That was why he was late getting here and arrived just when we came into your house.”

  “What really happened to your head?”

  He took a deep breath. “I was shot.”

  Anat was silent for a moment, digesting the information. She shook her head. “I can’t imagine what these people think I have. They took what little jewelry I kept. I live very simply. Zyah bought the house for me. She loved the views and thought it would be nice for both of us when she came home. She always talked of coming to live with me, although I didn’t think she’d really come.”

  Player thought Anat sounded tired, and that alarmed him. It was still early, too early for Zyah to come home. He’d spent the day with Anat because, since he’d been there, no one had been scheduled to stay with her. He wasn’t about to leave until her granddaughter was home and they both were safe, locked inside.

  He knew the sheriff sent extra patrols, which didn’t say much. They were stretched thin. Sea Haven didn’t have a police department. They were under the sheriff’s jurisdiction. It was only because both Jonas and Jackson lived in Sea Haven that the sheriff was around as much as he was. There were simply too many miles in the county to cover and not enough manpower. Torpedo Ink picked up the slack with Anat Gamal’s home. They had someone watching it at all times.

  As if she were reading his mind, Anat made a guess. “Torpedo Ink is watching over us, aren’t they? Not just here in the house but outside as well.”

  “Yes, ma’am, they are. They’ll continue to do so even after I’m gone, but you shouldn’t tell anyone, including your friends, not even Inez.”

  She was silent a moment studying his face as if trying to read his reasons. “Your people are good people, Player,” she said. “Very good people. Why are you leaving when you should be trying to make my stubborn granddaughter see that she is making a big mistake by not forgiving you?”

  “She’s forgiven me.” He didn’t want Anat to think Zyah was at fault. She wasn’t. Not in any way.

  Player detested these kinds of conversations. He was too restless to stay still in spite of the fact that when he moved around too much, it brought on a migraine. He had to admit, his head was much better—good enough for him to get on his bike and ride the hell away from temptation. He didn’t have illusions when he was awake. Or nightmares.

  “She’s too damn good for a man like me.” He told the truth. Straight up. What was the point of trying to beat around the bush? Anat had some kind of built-in radar for bullshit anyway. “She’s a good woman.”

  Anat shook her head. “Hearing you talk this way makes me sad for you, Player. I thought you were more of a man than that. What you’re saying to me is nothing but an excuse. An old one. Anyone can make such an excuse. Everyone has a past. Something bad that happened to shape who we are. Some more than others.”

  “You have no idea.”

  She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “In the end, it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t because it is in the past. We can only choose to go forward. We can’t change what’s behind us. What was done to us by others, by our parents, by anyone. Even what we did. It is done. We have to live with it. Our responsibility is to move forward and do the best we can, be the best we can.”

  “Nothing is that simple.”

  “Of course it isn’t, and yet it really is, Player. Life is very short. You have the choice to decide whether or not you’re going to blame your past for refusing to take chances. You have to push yourself to become different, to change with the years and grow and learn. No one says it’s easy, but it’s what people do. That’s what we all do. At least most of us. We try. We work at it. We’re never perfect and we make mistakes, but they’re our mistakes and we own those mistakes, and then we have to let them go so we can move on and grow more. That’s just life.”

  Player forced a smile even as he shook his head. “People have these maps their parents gave them. Or grandparents. Or someone. I don’t have anything like that. I don’t know the first thing about a relationship. Not one damn thing, Anat. That would be letting her in for a lifetime of hurt.”

  Anat sighed again. “Perhaps, Player, but then my Zyah knows quite a bit about relationships. She knows what love is, even if you don’t. She is open to learning all the time. You’ve closed yourself off. Where you could have learned from her, you have shut yourself off from happiness. She should back away from the relationship, Player, and I was wrong to push to save it. I see something in you, just as she did. That matters little when you don’t see it in yourself. Using your past as an excuse to stand still is still an excuse to be a coward, Player. I never would have believed that of you. No one can change your life but you. No one can save you but you.”

  Had anyone else called him a coward, Player might have resorted to violence, but he just stood there in shock, wincing at her condemnation. Absorbing every word.

  The door between the garage and the kitchen opened and closed. “Mama Anat? I’m home, safe and sound. Savage and Destroyer escorted me home and scared everyone off just by looking at them.” There was genuine amusement in Zyah’s voice.

  The sound of her laughter always opened up something soft and unexpected in Player he hadn’t realized was in him. He’d thought every part of him was hard, completely closed off to anything human, but somehow Zyah had found a way into that one little piece that was still vulnerable.

  “We’re in here, Zyah. In the bedroom,” Anat called, joy in her voice. “Perhaps you’re right, Player. My Zyah deserves a man willing to fight for her. If you don’t think she’s worth fighting for, then you certainly are not that man.”

  Player opened his mouth to protest. Anat was deliberately misunderstanding him. Zyah was worth fighting for. He had never, not once, implied she wasn’t. Zyah rushed into the room, graceful, her dancer’s body flowing with energy, dark eyes bright, her hair thick and shiny even in the dimmer lights Anat had by the bedside.

  “Did you have a good day, Mama Anat? It was so beautiful outside, I hope you were able to go out. Player, did you take her outside on the back patio?”

  It was one of the few times Zyah addressed him directly unless they were sitting in bed with the lights off. The moment she did speak, the moment she looked at him, her eyes meeting his, he tasted her in his mouth. That perfect blend of subtle jasmine and a rich green floral mimosa. His tongue would forever know that very distinctive cinnamic-honey flavor edged with a cassis-raspberry facet. He wouldn’t have even known what those flavors were had it not been for Alena’s cooking abilities. She had schooled them all in various spices.

  “We spent a couple of hours in the sun, although I made certain we were careful. She wanted to lie out in her bathing suit,” Player said. “I told her
it was too soon for that. And there was this man coming around, a Dwayne River. He showed up with an armload of flowers and suddenly she was all about suntanning in her altogether.”

  “Player!” Two spots of color appeared on Anat’s cheeks. “I did not. I just said I didn’t like tan lines. I wanted to put on a bathing suit. And only for an hour. We were out there longer, but I didn’t stay in my suit the entire time.”

  “Mama Anat! You did go in your altogether.” Zyah deliberately misunderstood, her eyes wide with laughter. “A few flowers from that man and you’re back to being a cat woman. I told you sunbathing in the nude was out for a while.”

  Anat made her trilling sound, the one Zyah loved from her childhood.

  “Wait,” Savage said, crowding into the bedroom behind her. He stuck his head in the room, keeping his body behind the door frame. “You really went out sunbathing in the nude because of some man named Dwayne River? Has Code looked into him? We need to have him investigated. He could be a total con man. Or a serial killer. Anat, you’re too trusting. Beautiful women are always too trusting. Look at your granddaughter.”

  “That’s true,” Maestro agreed. “Zyah’s way too trusting.”

  Anat laughed. “All of you are awful. Leave poor Dwayne alone. He’s very nice. He visited me for a little while, but not while I was sunbathing. He makes me laugh. Not nearly the way all of you do. Serial killer?” She rolled her eyes.

  “You never know,” Savage said. “The nicest-looking men usually are the ones that fool you. The ones with bald heads and scars usually are good ones. They come around, and you should just feed them, Anat.”

  Zyah watched her grandmother’s face light up again as she continued laughing. She really loved hearing that laugh. These men. Torpedo Ink. They charmed her. They should be the last ones to be charming, but they were. Both women could see past the dark, swirling violence surrounding them. Sometimes, as in Savage’s case, it was so dark it was nearly impenetrable, but then suddenly, like now, there would be that small little path that led straight to his soul and they both could see the beauty of the man. It ran deep. No one else could see it. He couldn’t see it. But they could. Zyah had come to care for the men. Anat had as well.