“I was talkin’ to myself,” he said, turning back to her.
She rolled in her lips, fighting a grin, and the look went all through him.
Merde. What a goatscrew.
***
Johnny reached into Michelle’s refrigerator for another beer but stopped with his hand on the bottle when he heard the sound of a car door slam.
He quickly glanced around the cozy kitchen looking for a place to hide when he spied the large, walk-in pantry. He was there in two strides, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. With his back pressed against a shelf of canned goods, he held his breath, his hand sliding down to his waistband and the grip of his Ruger.
Ten seconds later, the front door opened with a squeak and heavy footsteps sounded in the living room, followed by the television falling silent.
“Yeah, I’m here now,” a man’s deep voice resonated through the louvered slats of the pantry door. “I’m gonna do a quick recon of her place then lock up. I’ll meet you back at the shop in thirty.”
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and then stomped around overhead. Johnny glanced around the pantry anxiously, looking for some way to conceal himself more thoroughly.
He couldn’t let this jackass, whoever he was, muck up his plans yet again.
There. In the back corner.
A large packing box stood open, an odd assortment of baskets tossed inside.
Slowly, quietly, he pulled the baskets out and stacked them beside a shelf. Then, just as stealthily, he climbed into the box. It was a squeeze, but he managed to fold himself into a ball, carefully keeping his Ruger at the ready should he need it, and pulled the flaps closed over his head.
Then he waited.
His breath caught in his lungs when the footfalls sounded on the stairs again. And then he heard the man enter the kitchen a few seconds before the refrigerator door slammed shut. He swallowed, and it sounded like a gun blast inside the stuffy silence of the box. Sweat trickled down his temple when the pantry door opened, and he blew out a silent breath when it closed again.
The man’s cell phone came to life with a blast of rock music, and Johnny listened as the guy answered gruffly, giving instructions to somebody on the other end. When the sound of his voice faded, Johnny soundlessly emerged from the box and tiptoed toward the pantry door.
He tipped his chin until he could see through one of the thin, horizontal openings, blinking at the huge man with a bright blue cast standing in the middle of the living room.
His heart began to pound with giddy anticipation when he recognized the giant.
Frank Knight. Owner of Black Knights Incorporated.
What were the odds?
Pretty good actually, since you’re hiding in his sister’s pantry.
He suppressed a wry chuckle and thumbed off the safely on his pistol.
He knew this wasn’t the plan. The plan was to kill Frank’s family. An eye for an eye. But Johnny couldn’t bring himself to pass up an opportunity like this.
He started to lift the Ruger, to point it at Frank Knight’s back, when suddenly the big man swung around, seeming to stare straight at him. It was like being caught in the crosshairs of a rifle, and Johnny’s neck prickled like it was crawling with ants; a bead of sweat slid coldly down his spine.
He held his breath, ready to raise his gun those final few inches and fire the instant Frank made a move in his direction. But the big man turned abruptly and stalked across living room. Johnny’s heart tripped over itself as he released his pent-up breath.
Holy fuck, that dude is scary looking. Far more intimidating in the flesh than in his photos. Of course, Johnny wasn’t scared. Hell no. He was far from scared. He was downright ecstatic. This was the head honcho right here!
His finger curled around the trigger as his palms began to itch. The air inside the pantry grew heavy and damp with his rapid breathing, with the sweat that broke out all over his body.
“No,” he heard Frank laugh. “We are not going down in the river tunnel for a quickie. It’s wet and creepy down there. Remember what happened this morning when you thought you felt a spider in your hair, and you started running around screaming? It completely ruined my happy ending. I’m coming out now. Warm up the engine for me, will ya? No,” the big guy laughed again. “Not that engine. The one on the Hummer.”
Carefully, Johnny pushed open the pantry door, wincing when it squeaked. But, fortunately, the sound was masked by a series of beeps coming from the security panel on the wall by the front door. Hurriedly, he tiptoed across the kitchen, silently raising his weapon as he went. When he stepped into the living room, a smile on his face, the Ruger hot in his hand, his finger already squeezing the trigger, he was met by the front door swinging closed.
“Fuck me!” he cursed beneath his breath, racing across the living room, feeling his opportunity to kill Frank Knight slip through his fingers.
His hand was on the knob, preparing to wrench open the front door and take aim, when the sound of a big engine firing up stopped him cold.
He peeked through the leaded glass at the top of the door in time to see a monster black Hummer pull from the curb.
“Goddamnit!”
For a split second, he contemplated taking aim and filling the SUV full of holes. But he managed to restrain himself.
So okay, he forced himself to uncurl his finger from the trigger, you missed your chance to kill Frank Knight. Maybe it’s better this way.
After all, dying was easy compared to the suffering the dude would face once Johnny was finished with his sister.
Quickly glancing at the alarm system, he noted the motion detectors were programmed to arm in fifteen seconds, which gave him just enough time to hoof it up to the second floor and get himself into position.
With anticipation burning bright in his heart, he turned and raced up the stairs.
***
Stupid cell phones! They’re always out of batteries when you need them!
Michelle tossed her useless phone into her purse and tentatively glanced across the hospital bed at Jake’s rigidly controlled face. He’d stayed in Franklin’s room with her all night and all day, and he’d yet to ask the one question she knew must be burning a hole in his brain.
Why?
She saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her, caught it on his expression whenever he gazed at Franklin.
But he hadn’t asked it.
And why hadn’t he asked it? Why hadn’t he given her a chance to explain like her brother had begged him to?
Dear Lord, she’d never meant to hurt him. She’d only meant to protect her child, to do the right thing for her child. And she could explain all of that to him; she wanted to explain all of that to him…if only he’d ask.
Because she couldn’t be the first to broach the subject. If she did, it might appear as if she was offering excuses and she wasn’t. She had no excuses, because he’d never given her any cause for excuses. He’d only ever given her reasons!
She beat back a sharp sob and wondered, now that they were about to check out of the hospital and take Franklin home, what he would do?
Tell Franklin the truth?
Demand custody?
What was he thinking in that head of his? What?
She couldn’t stand this…this…not knowing.
But she couldn’t confront him, couldn’t demand he tell her his intentions before he was ready to make them known, because that just might push him to the edge, make him act rashly.
No. She had to keep on doing exactly what she’d been doing. Staying calm. Staying patient.
Even if it killed her…
“Jake,” she whispered his name, and he glanced up from the out-of-date Hot Rod magazine he’d been reading for the last two hours. “Can I—” she had to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Can I borrow your cell phone? Mine is dead, and Lisa was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I’m…I’m getting worried.”
In answer, he absently dug into the hip p
ocket of his jeans and tossed her his iPhone before immediately going back to his magazine.
And the silent treatment continues…
She shook her head, resisting the urge to burst into tears as she thumbed on the phone and quickly dialed Lisa’s number. She listened to it ring on the other end and gnawed anxiously on a hangnail before she was forced to leave a voice mail.
“No go?” he asked after she clicked off.
They were the first words he’d spoken to her in hours, and the sound of his voice, even brusque and unyielding as it was, made her chest ache.
“No,” she pushed up from the little love seat to circle the foot of Franklin’s hospital bed and return his phone.
Her fingers brushed his as she handed back the device, and she was forced to subdue the accompanying shiver. Even after everything, after all the disappointment and betrayal, the mere touch of his skin made her long for…things she shouldn’t long for. Things that could never be.
“She’s not picking up,” she continued, ignoring the desire to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness, beg him to understand that she’d done what was right, beg him to remember how he’d been, beg him to see that it’d killed her to keep Franklin a secret, but he’d given her no choice. But she knew he was in no mood to accept his part in all this. And, for her part, she had just enough pride left to remain on her feet. “And it’s not like her to say she’ll be somewhere and then not show up. I’ll give it a few minutes just in case she’s stuck in traffic or something, and then I’ll try her again.” She was amazed at how steady her voice sounded given her insides were spinning like a ferris wheel. “By the way, your phone only has three percent battery life left.”
He shrugged and went back to reading, and she stood there in front of him, heart in her throat, staring down at the crown of his shaggy, sun-kissed head.
“You’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” she whispered. “It’s the only way to sort everything out.”
He rolled in his lips, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he shrugged again, still refusing to look at her, continuing to pretend like he was reading that stupid car magazine.
Heat began to burn over her scalp, but she did her best to ignore it, to maintain her composure.
“You know I’m right, don’t you?” she asked.
But when he shrugged again, that did it.
She jammed a palm down on each of his big shoulders. “Stop shrugging!” she hissed into his surprised face, surprising herself as well. She was obviously losing it, but she was helpless to stop herself. She couldn’t stand this vicious silence a moment longer. Not when each second sliced into her heart like broken glass.
“Please, Jake,” she beseeched him, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself. It didn’t seem to work. “Please say something. Say anything.”
And then she got her wish, because the question she’d been waiting to hear for hours, suddenly flew from his lips like he’d spit out bad sushi.
“Why?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Why didn’t you tell me I had a son!” Jake demanded, ignoring the stricken look that contorted Shell’s face right before she slowly turned and made her way back to the love seat.
When she took a seat, folding her arms around herself protectively, the move pushed her breasts together until her cleavage looked like it could adequately conceal a Colt .45.
He’d been face-first in that cleavage just last night. And even after all that’d happened, even after all her lies, he was disgusted to discover he was more than ready to dive in again.
He still wanted her. Still yearned for her in a way that made his blood run hot and his heart beat double-time.
It was completely ridiculous, and he was turning into a totally masochistic moron.
“Answer the question,” he demanded, disgusted with himself. Disgusted with her. Disgusted with life in general at this point.
Her expression softened as she searched his face.
Oh, and great, now his heart wasn’t only galloping, it was breaking just a little bit, too.
Perfect.
“Do you remember that day I came to see you at the base?”
He swallowed, nodding, the entire sordid scene flashing in front of his eyes. He’d been so callus. So cruel. And then it suddenly occurred to him…
“Is that what you came to tell me that day? That you were pregnant?”
One large tear spilled down her smooth cheek. She didn’t reach up to wipe it away, instead allowing it to roll off her chin and land on her collarbone where it caught the overhead lights and sparkled like a sad little diamond.
“Yes,” she whispered, her gaze steady on his face despite the fact that he knew the memory had to be as painful for her as it was for him.
“I…” he swallowed, cursing himself for being a blind, jealous idiot. “I thought you’d…I thought you were coming to tell me about you and Preacher.”
She laughed, the sound full of bitterness and regret. “At that point there was no me and Preacher.”
He looked at her sharply. “But…by that time you two had been connected at the hip for what? A month? Ever since that night at the Clover—”
“Six weeks,” she smiled sadly. “For six weeks, Steven held my hand, patted my back, and told me just to give you time. He said you were going through a rough patch, and I needed to give you a chance to work through it.”
“Goddamn,” he glanced away, shaking his head when he thought of how different it all could’ve been if only he’d—
“Steven was my only friend,” she continued, cutting into his thoughts. “The only one I could talk to. Any of the other guys would’ve run to Frank and spilled the beans about what was happening between you and me. And then Frank would’ve killed you. But you remember how Steven was. If you swore him to secrecy, he’d die before breaking his word. Of course, when I found out I was pregnant, that really put his loyalty to the test…”
It was a good thing his “man card” had already been revoked, because tears gathered behind Jake’s eyes. “And when you came to tell me you were pregnant, I accused you of being a gold-digging slut. Which, in retrospect was more than ridiculous, huh? Yo, how many rich Naval officers do you know?”
She reached up to thumb away another tear. “I was hurting too badly to recognize what you were going through. I took your vicious words and the fact that you’d ignored my phone calls for a month and half to mean you didn’t love me anymore, if you’d ever loved me at all.”
He dug his fingers into the arms of the chair. Just as he’d feared, her answer to the question of why made him face the fact that she wasn’t the only one to blame for how things had turned out.
Oh, she’d made a mistake by not telling him she was pregnant with his child. There was no question of that. But she wouldn’t have done it had he not treated her like garbage, like something that belonged on the bottom of his shoe.
Goddamn him. Goddamn them both.
“And so you turned to Preacher…”
“No,” she shook her head. “I decided to get rid of the baby.”
His chin jerked back, and she turned to gaze at Franklin’s sweet face, the love in her own so bright and clear it was almost like the emotion was distilled down to its purest form.
“I knew what it was to grow up in a broken home, to grow up fatherless,” she whispered. “I didn’t want that for my child.”
“But how—”
“Steven went with me to the clinic that day, still holding my hand, still patting my back.” She shook her head and wiped away more tears. “I was a mess. I was crying so hard, I couldn’t fill out the paperwork. He had to do it for me. And then, when the nurse called my name, he looked at me…” she turned to him then, her smile watery, “… and he grabbed my hand and ran with me out the front door. You see, he knew me better than I knew myself. He knew I’d regret that decision for the rest of my life. And Steven being Steven, he offered me a solution.”
“He offered to marry
you, to give you the home and family you’d been dreaming of your entire life.” And it should’ve been me. His heart ached so badly it was a wonder the thing still managed to pump blood.
She nodded.
“Did you love him?” He didn’t know if he hoped her answer was yes or no. The selfish, jealous part of him wanted her to say he’d been the only man to touch her heart. But Preacher deserved so much more than that…
“I loved him,” she said, shaking her head sadly, “but I wasn’t in love with him. Steven knew that, I was honest with him about that, but he swore I’d eventually fall in love with him.”
“Yeah,” he nodded his head as a slideshow of memories of Preacher flashed through his brain. “Preacher may’ve been a saint among sailors, but he was still a SEAL, cocky as hell. He probably figured there was no way in hell you wouldn’t eventually fall for him.”
She sighed. “I like to think he was right. I like to think that if we’d gotten the chance…” She trailed off, gathered herself, then continued quietly, “I’ve struggled every day with the guilt of that decision, wondering if I did the right thing. Wishing I could’ve given him more.”
“You gave him enough,” Jake told her, sadness and remorse making his heart feel as if it weighed as much as a B-52 bomber.
“I hope so,” she whispered. “I hope I was a good wife to him in the time we had together. I’ve always—” She stopped and hastily wiped away the last of her tears when the doctor strolled into the room with a clipboard under one arm.
***
Vanessa kicked off her ridiculous high-heeled shoes and raced down the smoky hall, digging into the cleavage of her halter top to pull out her room key.
In her excitement, she dropped it on the floor and nearly split the ass of her miniskirt bending to pick it up. Straightening, she fumbled with the lock and finally burst into the hotel room with, “You’re never going to believe this!”
“Oui.” Rock sat by the window, gazing down at his phone as if he’d never seen it before. And even watching him do something as simple as thumb off the device, the tendons in his forearm shifting under his tattoos, made her need to catch her breath. Or maybe it was just the fact that she’d run up the four flights of stairs instead of taking the ultraslow elevator that had her lungs working overtime. Yeah, that had to be it. “Who told you?” he asked. “Was it Becky?”
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