“Shut up!” she shouted. “I don’t want to hear it. And you…just…stay away from me. Okay? You stay away from me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Detective Halle Chance lived in a pretty neighborhood in Old Louisville.
Riley had always loved that part of town and enjoyed a first, second, then a third beer before she finally showed up.
He’d bought a six pack—cold—at the liquor store down the street and walked the block to her house, settling down to wait after she didn’t answer the door.
He’d left Bree a message, told her he had to take care of something and he’d be home as soon as he could.
He hoped by the time he did go home he could do it without anger.
He hoped he could look at her and not feel sick with rage.
She didn’t need to pick up on anything he had trapped inside him.
The woman in front of him, well, she was picking up on all sorts of emotion and he could tell by the way her hand went to the weapon at her side that she had already evaluated him and deemed him dangerous.
He decided that made her a smart woman.
Not that he was there to hurt her.
He just wanted answers. Whether she gave them to him or not, he was going to get those answers.
“Hello, Detective Chance.” He nodded to the three bottles remaining in the carton next to him. “Care for a beer?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “How did you find out where I live?”
“I’m a resourceful person.” He slanted her a look. “I used my…resources.”
Her mouth tightened and she inched closer, her eyes racing around as she searched for some sign of danger. “I didn’t have time to dig a pit into the concrete, then conceal it,” he said dryly. “No group of masked men is hiding behind the topiary to take you down.”
“Why are you here?” she asked again, her voice concise.
“I want to know what in the hell you said to Marnie,” he said calmly. “And I want to know who is following her.”
He lifted the bottle to his lips, took a drink, and all the while he stared at her over the rim. He lifted a shoulder after lowering the bottle. “I also want to know what happened to Candi that had you so convinced that I hurt her.”
“I’m not going to divulge details of my investigation to you.” Her lips firmed out into a flat line, all but disappearing.
“Fine by me.” He leaned forward, dangling the bottle by the neck as he studied her. “But here’s the thing. If it’s not me—and you have no proof it is—then that means it’s somebody else. I have no reason to hurt or scare Marnie. I was about to end the deal between us.”
“You’re admitting to a deal?” Chance all but pounced on those words.
He shrugged. “I’m not admitting to anything.”
“You—” She stopped, hissing out a breath between her teeth. “Okay, but here’s the thing—she ended things. You didn’t like that.”
“Actually, I did.” Cocking his head, he replied, “I was about ready to do it myself. Had already mapped out what I’d say. Then she started in before I had to chance.”
“Why should I believe that?” Chance snorted, laughing derisively.
“Because the woman staying in my apartment is the woman I’ve loved since I was a kid.” Riley said the words matter-of-factly, hitching up a shoulder in a shrug. “The last thing I want to do is risk that before it even starts.”
Her lids flickered.
“See, I was ready to end things with Marnie that day. I’d bought her a necklace. I’d already practiced what I’d say. But she did the job for me, and we’ve got a rule. It’s all about the ladies. Since she’d taken the initiative, I wasn’t going to take it away from her.”
“How…noble.” There was a sneer in her voice. “I didn’t realize whores had such principles.”
Riley drained his bottle, fighting the rush of heat that crept up his neck, but in the end, he couldn’t stop it.
“Tell me something. This house behind you. I bet it’s nice. Worth…what? Half a million?” He eyed her shoes—a lovely pair of Ferragamos. He knew that, thanks to the time he’d spent with Marnie and Candi. Style was something he’d learned, not something he’d been born into. “Those shoes? You didn’t buy those on a cop’s salary.”
“Your point?” Her eyes narrowed.
“My point is this—do you know what it’s like to find out that your parents are dead, you’re going to lose your house, your brother and sister are going end up in foster care and you’ve only got so much time to figure out how to fix things?” He slid another look at her shoes, then eyed the Coach bag on her arm. “Somehow, I don’t think you do. Me? I learned the hard way. They died owing almost a hundred thousand dollars to various creditors and we almost lost the house, too. I worked seventy-hour weeks and I still had to fight to prove to the courts that I could take care of my baby brother and my baby sister.”
Rising, he descended the steps and met her gaze dead on. In the stilts she wore, they were almost the same height. “I gave up a full ride to the University of Kentucky, a football scholarship. I had scouts coming to talk to me even in my freshman year. I gave it all up so I could take care of my family. What was left of it. You want to talk about principles? I didn’t give a shit about principles. I cared about my brother and sister and I would have done anything to make sure they were taken care of.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, opened it again.
But nothing came out.
“What’s the matter, Detective Chance? Not what you expected to hear? Go on and dig into my history. You’ll find the truth of all of it, including the fact that I was just now able to finally pay off all those debts in the past few years.” He turned and started to put the empty bottles back into the carton.
“Let me have one of those, you son of a bitch.”
He looked back at her.
She was glaring at him.
But if he wasn’t mistaken, some of the distance had faded from her eyes.
“Why?”
She huffed out a breath. “Because.” She shifted her gaze away, then looked back at him. “I consider myself a decent judge of character, you know. I always have. And my gut is telling me you’re being straight with me. Which means— Look, just give me a damn beer.”
* * * * *
“That’s why she stopped calling me,” he murmured. “That’s why…”
He got up, feeling as though he might be sick.
Chance sat on the top step, eying him with an impassive expression.
She had kicked off her pricy designer shoes and let her hair down. It made her look softer and he could see why Shame had been drawn to her. She was all neat and pretty, elegant in the way that made a man just want to muss her up.
And he thought about Bree, sitting on his couch wearing jeans and a faded old T-shirt, Toby curled against her side.
There was no contest.
Bree owned him.
“When did it happen?” he asked.
“She wouldn’t tell me. Candi and I were…” Chance looked away, her jaw going tight. “We were best friends, as well as family, but she’d gone distant after what happened in college. Did she ever tell you?”
“Not in so many words, but I figured it out. She was raped. Do you know who did it?”
“Yes.” She inclined her head, studying him.
“Did you talk to him?” Riley demanded.
“About the second attack? Damn straight. But he had an alibi. An unbreakable one. He was in the hospital with his wife while their second baby was being delivered.” She looked disgusted.
“Shit.”
“Tell me about it. I wanted it to be him. I would have pinned his ass to the wall. She’s… Candi was why I went into police work.”
“He was harassing her,” Riley said.
Chance shot him a hard look.
He recounted that final night and she listened and he could tell she was tucking every word away insi
de that canny mind.
“Shit. I wish she would have told me. I could have done something.” She rubbed her eyes and then looked at him, finally letting some emotion show on her face. “You know I talked to Marnie, I take it.”
“Yes.” He debated on whether or not to say anything else. In the end, he knew he had to. “Somebody’s been following her, Detective.”
For a split second, she just stared at him, almost as if she didn’t know what to make of what he’d said.
Then she erupted off the porch, closing the distance between them. Her eyes were cold and hard. “What?”
“You heard me.” Riley cracked his neck but it did little to relieve the tension gathering there. “She called me. She was…pissed. She thinks it’s me. Thanks to you.”
Chance frowned, but offered no apology. He decided that being a cop had to suck. Either that, or they had no conscience. Somehow, he didn’t see the latter fitting her.
“Let’s focus on the part where she thinks she’s being followed.”
Lifting a brow, Riley said, “She’s not the type of woman who is prone to imagining things. She had to deal with a piece-of-shit ex and a couple of kids who still want to blame her for their divorce. She kept her head through all of it. If she says she’s being followed, then dollars to donuts says she’s being followed.”
“And…?”
“And I can’t tell you much more than that because she told me to stay away from her, then she hung up on me.” He leaned in until they were practically nose-to-nose. “Since you put the idea in her head and since you’re the cop here, maybe you should go talk to her.”
Chance started to speak, then thought better of it. After a few seconds, she sighed and tipped her head back. “You are proving to be one royal pain in my ass, Riley Steele.”
“I never asked for you to start harassing me or the women I know,” he pointed out.
* * * * *
When he let himself into his apartment nearly two hours later, it was to find it empty.
He stood in the middle of the small living room, keys gripped tightly in one hand, his gaze on the coffee table.
There was a coloring book there, left open, with a few crayons next to it.
A pair of high-heeled shoes rested by the door to his bedroom.
She couldn’t be at work.
It was too late in the day. He’d waited to go hunt down the detective until she’d left for work, just so he’d be home when Bree got off work.
Prowling the apartment, feeling at loose ends, he found himself opening the doors—to the closet, the bedroom, the bathroom—looking for some sign as to where she’d gone, or rather, some sign that she hadn’t left.
He found the signs in his bedroom, in the bathroom. Her clothes were there, as were Toby’s, along with his toys.
And in the spare bedroom, he found something else.
The wrapped mattress, which had been set atop the bedframe he’d ordered.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he remembered, belatedly, that he’d scheduled delivery for today.
Pulling his phone out, he eyed the messages he’d been ignoring. None were from Bree. Several were from Con. He tapped on them and watched them pop up, one by one.
And they were about the bed.
There’s a delivery guy here.
You got a bed.
Are you here?
Fine. I’ll let him in.
Hope that bed is for the kid. You ought to be keeping her warm at night.
The sound of the door opening behind him had him spinning around and when he saw Bree there, and Toby next to her, it was as if a fist released its slick, icy grip from around his heart.
“Hey.”
She gave him a weak smile.
“Hi.”
Toby glanced at him, then away. A few seconds later, he finally looked back at Riley and said, “Hi.”
Riley felt as if he’d won the fucking lottery.
“You talking to me again, Toby?”
Toby went red.
Bree nudged him farther into the room. “Show him what we bought. I had a signing bonus…so…um…well…the bed came in and we bought something.”
Toby’s face brightened and he grabbed the bag from his mother’s hand, all but running into the living room and stumbling to a stop at the coffee table. “I picked them out.”
A moment later, Riley covered his mouth with his hand. “Yeah, I can see that.”
They were sheets. Actually, a whole damn set for the bed in the spare bedroom. “Avengers, huh?”
Thor, Ironman, the Hulk, the whole damn gang decorated the sheets and comforter. Sliding Bree a sidelong look, he murmured, “I’m a little old to be sleeping on Avengers sheets, Bree.”
Her dusky cheeks went pink, but she said calmly, “Actually, I was planning on having Toby sleep in there.”
Riley’s back groaned in protest but he looked at her straight on. “Really.”
“Yes. Toby, why don’t you take them into the laundry room and start opening everything up? We’ll get them all washed tonight so you can sleep in there. I know you miss having your own room.”
“Okay!” He was up and gone before Riley had a chance to point out that he sort of missed having his own bed.
Bree moved closer.
“So you plan on putting him in there,” he said.
“Yes. And…” she licked her lips and reached up, resting a hand on his chest. “I was sort of thinking you and I would do just fine in your bedroom.”
Riley’s heart lurched hard against her touch.
He was hard-pressed not to kiss her, then hurry her into the bedroom right then and there.
“What’s this mean, Bree?” he asked.
“It… Why does it have to mean something?” She glanced at him, then away. “We’re good together, right? I’ve missed you. I think you’ve missed me.”
“Damn straight I’ve missed you. I love you, Bree. I always have.”
Her gaze flew to his.
Before she could look away again, he fisted a hand in her hair. “I love you,” he said again. “I’ve had a piece of my heart missing for the past decade. And if you plan on staying, then hell, yes. Move yourself into my bedroom, my life. Hell, for that matter, we can start looking for a house, because a kid should have a home, not be living over a bar. But if you’re just—” He stopped and took a breath. “If you’re just staying here until you’re steady again…”
He let go of her hair and turned, moving over to the window to stare outside.
“I never stopped loving you.”
The words hit him like a blow to the heart. He braced one hand against the wall, bowing his head.
“After…” she paused when there was a whoop from the laundry room, then continued. “After what happened, I… Riley, I fell apart. I can’t explain any better than that. I still feel like I’m falling apart. It was my fault, you see.”
“Bullshit,” he spat, spinning around, a hundred things leaping to his lips.
But she was watching him with steady eyes. “Oh, I know that…logically. Up here.” She touched her temple. Then her heart. “In here, though, that’s a different story. I did a hundred, a thousand things, to punish myself. I’d probably still be doing them if I hadn’t gotten pregnant with Toby. He saved me, in a way. But even with him… His daddy hurt me too. Not like… Not like before, but in other ways. I was his little jungle mama, you know.”
Rage boiled inside Riley, but he had no time to let it lose.
Toby came running back into the living room. “Mama, how do I start the washing machine?”
She looked lost, but after a moment, she let him lead her out.
Riley took that time to pick up his phone and text his brother.
I need you up here. Now. Get Shame to cover for you. It’s urgent.
There was a knock on the door only a moment before Bree emerged from the laundry room, her hand tucked into Toby’s.
The smile on
her face froze when Riley opened the door to admit his brother.
“Toby, what do you think about you and Con going to get some pizza, maybe play some video games at the pizza place?” Riley asked, reaching into his wallet.
Con gave him a death glare and waved the money off. “Dude, pizza…seriously?” He gave Toby a wide smile. “Say you’re up for it.”
“Riley,” Bree said, her voice faint.
“Can I?” Toby wheeled on his mother, hope shining in his eyes. “Can I, can I?”
It was a dirty trick, had been, and Riley knew it.
But he didn’t care.
After his brother took Toby and they were alone, he met Bree’s stare. “I think this has festered long enough, don’t you?”
She closed her eyes, arms wrapped around her middle.
When she finally looked back at him, she said in a tired voice, “I don’t know what you want from me, Riley. I’m not the girl you fell in love with.”
“Yeah, you are.” He moved to her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. “She’s just as much a part of you now as the arrogant high school jock is a part of me, and trust me, I don’t have much in common with him anymore. But he’s still there.”
“You weren’t arrogant.” A watery laugh escaped her and she leaned in, resting her head against his chest. “You were just…cocky.”
He stroked a hand up her back, then down, resting it on the curve of her spine.
“I need to know the truth, Bree. Did you break it off with me because of what happened?”
She tensed.
Slowly, she pulled back.
He tugged her chin up so that she’d meet his eyes and he could tell she didn’t want to. “Bree?”
“I felt…dirty, Ry. Wrong inside. I tried to deal with it. You’d call and you’d be so sweet and there I was, feeling like a toxic sewer and I just didn’t know how to handle it.”
He dipped his head, pressing his brow to hers. “I wish you would have told me.”
“You would have killed him.”
F*ck Club: Riley Page 13