by Vella Day
How dare he walk away? She was tempted to march into his house and demand an apology, but for what purpose?
Throwing her arms into the air in frustration, she stalked to her car, hopped in, and drove off without looking back. She didn’t bother to wipe the sweat from her brow as the liquid stung her eyes. Her tears might help wash away the angry pain.
Halfway down the road, his comments sunk in. She pulled the car to a halt on the side of the road, careful not to smash the flowers lining a neighbor’s property. Think. Could Michael have had anything to do with Stef’s death? Could the rainy night have reminded him of another? Had he run Stef off the road?
Reason intruded. No. Killers tried to cover up their deeds, not announce they were pleased the victim was dead. Maybe she should run his name by Derek and have him investigate Mr. Sensitive’s whereabouts on Saturday night.
Yes, that’s what she’d do.
With a plan in mind, her ability to drive returned, and she headed toward the park to run. She needed an intense workout to clear up the fuzz that marbled her brain. Because the sky had turned darker and more threatening just in the last few minutes, she pressed her foot on the accelerator, wanting to arrive before the rain interfered.
Even though Al Lopez Park had lights, the place became dangerous at night. Relief shot through her when she noticed the lot was half full. Safety in numbers, as they say.
Bicycles and joggers shared the paved path on the south side trail, but the north side was too hidden by trees to chance running this late.
After stretching, she jogged at a moderate pace until her muscles warmed up. Two owners played with their dogs in the enclosed doggie park, and the happy puppy yelps spurred her on.
Anger, frustration, and depression tightened every muscle in her body. Slowly, she increased her pace until she found herself in a near sprint instead of her usual jog. A stitch in her side made her slow, but she knew she’d beaten her nine-minute per mile mark.
After catching her breath, she glanced at her watch. When a shadow moved out from behind a tree, her neck hair prickled. On instinct, Kelly took off in a sprint.
Long fingers grabbed her shoulder, and a scream lodged in her throat.
9
Kelly’s heart nearly jackknifed out of her chest. On instinct, she jerked away from the grasp and twisted her head to see over her shoulder.
Justin smiled. “Hey, Doc. Fancy meeting you here.” His t-shirt was stained with sweat across his chest.
She stopped and let out a sigh of relief. Here, she thought some stalker had caught her—or worse a murderer.
She leaned over and grabbed her knees, gulping in air. “What are you doing here?” She’d never seen him at the park before. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She stood back up, and a sudden cool breeze across her wet skin gave her goose bumps.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He raised his brows, looking innocent. “As to what I’m doing here, I suspect the same as you—trying to let off a little steam after work.”
Two joggers and a bicyclist passed them. Her mind was too jumbled to decide if Justin had an ulterior motive for being at the park the same time as her or if he was telling the turth. “Do you come here often?”
He pulled the hem of his shirt up to his forehead and wiped his brow. His rippled abs tightened, and she pulled her gaze back up to his face.
“I like to exercise at least three times a week. I usually get started earlier, but it’s been so damn hot, I’ve been waiting until it’s nearly dark before I run.”
His explanation made sense. “I know what you mean. I either run at six in the morning or around this time.”
“Biker on your left,” a man shouted from behind.
They both stepped to the side of the paved path. Justin pointed a finger toward the road. The parking lot was another half mile. He said nothing for a few seconds as she jogged alongside him, swatting away a few bugs that buzzed her ears.
As they rounded the bend on the oval track, Kelly glanced over at Justin, studying his expression. He seemed calm, as if nothing unusual had occurred in the last two days. Hey, maybe he had the right attitude. Denial was easier on the spirit than reality.
He looked over at her and smiled again. Kelly whipped her head back to the path, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. She wasn’t interested. Sure he was a nice looking guy with straight white teeth, perfect hair, but he did nothing for her. The moment Derek had shown up at her house, all thoughts of other men had flown out of her brain.
Derek. Derek. Derek. He’d been such a jerk, so why should she still care?
She refused to analyze her feelings. Frustrated at her bad taste in men, she picked up the pace, perhaps hoping to outrun her demons. Justin reached out a hand to slow her down. She’d been so tuned into her own world, she’d forgotten he was even there.
“You going for an Olympic medal?” he asked.
His breathing was even, as if a nine-minute mile was a snail’s pace. She hadn’t exactly asked him to join her in her workout, but she didn’t mind his company either.
“Sorry, I was a little lost in thought.” She returned to her usual pace.
Derek’s image intruded, again, and she almost smiled at the remembrance of The Challenge, as Derek called it. Their senior year she’d bet him she could beat him in the two-twenty. After all, she was on the track team. He was not. Stupid man beat her by a good twenty meters. That ended her challenges.
After Kelly finished her three miles, she stopped next to her car. Sweat covered her body and dripped into her eyes. She usually carried a small towel, but in her rush to see Michael first, she’d forgotten one.
“Well, good seeing you,” she said to Justin who’d leaned his butt against the rear of her car. Except for the wet T-shirt and the water beading his forehead, he didn’t look like the run had affected him much.
“You too.” His gaze shot to the ground. “Say, I know this is probably too soon, and I wouldn’t normally ask, but would you be willing to indulge me in something?” He looked up at her through long lashes.
His question registered. “Indulge you how?” Kelly placed two forefingers on her carotid artery to check her pulse.
“Would you mind coming with me to the Casino Royale tonight for some gambling?”
She lowered her arm, too startled to count her heartbeat. The question was so preposterous Kelly couldn’t help but laugh. “You like to gamble?”
“What? You never play the slots?” he asked.
“Oh, that kind of gambling.” Stupid comment. How many kinds were there?
“Listen. Rayne loved Black Jack. We used to go to the Casino every Tuesday. I know she won’t be there, but somehow—you know, given today is Tuesday, I just thought…”
Sympathy coursed through her. “I understand. Stef and I used to go to Starbucks every Sunday morning. Keeping the tradition can help keep her memory alive.”
She would not cry—especially in front of Justin.
He looked at her, his gaze almost dreamy. “I’m amazed how much you understand. You don’t know what this means to me.”
Anger at her big mouth robbed her of depression. “I want to help, but I have so much work to do.”
He held up a hand. “I totally understand. We won’t stay more than an hour, I promise.”
Several cars whipped out of the parking lot, leaving a trace of smelly exhaust, which didn’t help after a good run.
The man is hurting. Help him. She probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the lab reports any more than she had when she was at work. “Fine.”
Maybe he’d see what a boring date she was and leave her alone after that.
“Great. I’ll pick you up in say an hour? I need to change.” He plucked his damp shirt off his chest, as if to prove his claim.
“Needless to say, so do I.” She pulled open her car door and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the console and drew a map to her house. “My house is really easy to find. Here.”
>
Justin looked over the diagram. “See you in an hour.”
He’d parked two cars away. She climbed in her Bug, a little ticked she’d forgotten to bring a towel to sit on. Sweat didn’t go well with her cloth seats.
As she pulled onto Himes Avenue, regret assaulted her. She had no business going to a casino with a man she hardly knew, or go anywhere with a man she hardly knew for that matter, especially at nine on a work night. And giving a stranger, or a somewhat stranger, directions to her house? What was she thinking?
That was the problem. She wasn’t. On top of Stef’s death, Derek’s visit had scrambled her thought process. Michael’s reaction to the accident, coupled with the sudden appearance of Justin, had her fighting to operate on any functional level. If she had to stand trial for some crime, she’d fail the psych test.
Kelly slowed down and edged up to a red light. Casino Royale was a good thirty minutes away from her house. That would put her back home at midnight.
But dammit, if she sat home, she’d probably end up crying all night. She could only hope that being with others would give her a new perspective on Stefanie’s accident and on life in general.
A car honked behind her. The light had turned green. Kelly waved, hoping to avoid a road rage fight.
As she turned down her street, she made a mental calendar. Tomorrow after work she would go over to Stef’s and begin the painful act of sorting through her sister’s things.
Derek clicked through the TV stations. Nothing was on but pure drivel, and he turned the damned thing off. Every commercial and every story reminded him in some way of Rayne, or Billy. Or yes, even Kelly.
What the hell was wrong with him? Ever since he’d left her place, a bad feeling had settled over him. At the time, he attributed his foul mood to his father’s comment about being indirectly the cause of his sister’s death. Now he wasn’t so sure Kelly wasn’t the source of his crappy attitude.
Only one way to find out. Derek needed to confront the issue with his dad head on. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and settled onto his sofa to call his father.
Drat. The answering machine picked up. Not wanting to leave a message, he hung up. His dad’s cell phone yielded the same result. A little worried, he called his father’s best friend, Tom.
“Jimmie Williams came down sick,” Tom explained. “He asked your dad to take his place at the tables.”
Derek took a sip of his soda, relieved nothing bad had happened, and the chilly drink calmed him. “Dad never works at the casino on Tuesday. It’s his night to pray.”
“I guess he broke his own rule. Don’t be hard on him. Every man grieves in his own way.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
Tom Trueheart—now there was a man who was a throwback to way the Seminoles used to live—simple, spiritual, and down to earth. He hoped his father appreciated his good friend.
Derek polished off the drink, tossed the can in the trashcan, and headed out.
The traffic on I-4 going east was lighter than usual, but then again, at ten thirty, sane folks were home with their families. He exited the Interstate and turned left toward the Casino Royale. His father should be home relaxing, socializing with his friends once he finished his prayer work, not working. But Dad was Dad. He would never let his grief stand in the way of helping his fellow tribesmen.
When Derek entered the gambling hall, bright strobe lights, cheers from excited customers, and the ca-ching of the slots assaulted him. He’d never liked the place. It was too noisy and had either too much cheer if someone won, or too much misery if he lost.
Derek bought twenty dollars’ worth of chips. His father didn’t approve of Derek hanging around and not dropping some money for the cause, as he called it.
If memory served him, Jimmie worked the roulette wheel, so Derek headed in that direction. He spotted his father and wove his way around the tables toward him. Bells, whistled, and machines clinked. He couldn’t wait to get out of there.
If his father had any ill will, he’d start the conversation off about where Billy would live once school let out for the holidays. Derek had already practiced his answer. Did his father think Billy should move in with Derek for the long haul and go to a public school nearby, or would his nephew be better off staying with Dad? His father could teach his grandson to hunt and fish better than he could, and Billy would learn the ancient Seminole customs. It wasn’t his own choice of how to grow up, but perhaps he should let Billy decide.
Of course, there was the off chance the local children would treat his nephew as an outsider. Derek would never forget how the Indian kids had treated Rayne and him like lepers when they went to the native school the summer between fourth and fifth grade. Taunting, book stealing, and whispers behind backs happened every day. He hated them; hated the native life.
A cocktail waitress sauntered up to him and asked if he wanted a drink. He waved her away and made a beeline to the roulette wheel.
Once they began discussing Billy, Derek would switch the topic around to what was really bothering him—his father’s comment about leading Rayne astray. The statement had cut him to the quick. Derek didn’t expect a full-blown conversation this time around. After all, his dad had a job to do.
When Derek reached his dad’s table, his father looked up. “Derek?” His dad’s brief smiled warmed his heart, and a weight lifted from his shoulders.
“Don’t let me interrupt. I can see you’re busy.”
His father held up a hand for him to stay before turning back to the customers. “Okay, place your bets.” He spun the wheel. The little white ball bounced around the grooves, clicking and clacking before eventually settling on a slot. “Red eight. Red eight wins.”
After collecting the money from the losers and paying out chips to the winners, he started again. “You playing, son?”
“Sure.” Derek dropped two five-dollar chips on black. Any black would do. He wasn’t here to gamble.
“You come to see me?” his dad asked. “I can get Ramon to cover.”
Yes. “I don’t want to interrupt.” The lack of anger from his father told him all he needed to know. He’d been forgiven. His dad’s outburst had been a reaction to his daughter’s death—or so he hoped.
As he waited for the rest of the table to place their bets, Derek looked around, glad to see people were still visiting the place and bringing in the needed revenue to the tribe.
Before he turned back to the game, his gaze caught sight of a woman four tables away that looked a lot like Kelly. The woman shifted toward him. Damn, it was her. And she was with... Justin? An emotion he refused to acknowledge charged up his spine and grabbed hold of his heart.
He took off in their direction, shoving his way through the crowd.
“Derek, your money,” his father called after him.
Derek didn’t care. “Save it for me,” he said over his shoulder. All he wanted was to get to Kelly.
10
Derek swallowed to keep his anger at bay. What the hell was Kelly doing out on a date? And with Justin no less?
His gaze locked onto the lovely creature in the tight black stretch pants and top so tiny her belly showed. As he pushed through the crowd, the ringing and whistling of the machines appeared to cease. He dodged one cocktail waitress then another to reach his goal.
Kelly looked up and smiled at the father of Rayne’s child. Damn. Derek remembered that smile. She used to melt his heart in less time than it took to blink when she looked at him that way.
He invaded her space and halted, glaring down at her. “Kelly?” His voice cracked. Derek wanted to reach out and shake her.
Control, man. Use control. He inhaled to steady himself, but her sexy perfume nearly thwarted his effort.
She turned and looked up at him. Her jaw dropped and a full-blown blush raced up her face. “Der...Derek. What are you doing here?” She took a step back and glanced at Justin as if he were her savior.
“I came to speak with my father. He works at the
casino. I thought you’d be at home mourning the loss of your sister, not out partying with my sister’s boyfriend.” Damn it. He’d let his tongue get the best of him.
Kelly’s jaw tightened and her lips firmed. When Kelly didn’t answer, he faced Justin. Maybe he’d tell him what the hell was going on.
Justin held up his hands in surrender. “Blame me. I ran into her at the park—literally.” He threw out a megawatt smile, first toward Derek then at Kelly.
The level of jealousy that raced up Derek’s gut took him by surprise. “Is that where you pick up all your women?”
Derek didn’t care that his comment made him look like an asshole. When he was pissed, his mouth knew no bounds. He wanted to pummel someone. Anyone. And Justin was the perfect target.
“Didn’t Rayne tell you we came here every Tuesday night? Staying away from here was too much for me. The casino reminds me of her.” He looked to the ceiling. “I can pretend she’s still alive this way.” He swiped a finger under his eye.
Crocodile tears, for sure.
Giving Justin the benefit of the doubt, Derek’s tamped down his anger. He looked back at Kelly. He had no right to quiz her, but an overwhelming need to protect her took over. “And you? When did you develop the urge to gamble?”
She planted her hands on her hips. The tension in her face told him he’d stepped over the line—way over. “Since when did you become my caretaker?” She didn’t wait for an answer and rushed on. “For your information, I needed to get away from my house. When I’m by myself all I can do is think of Stefanie. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Justin is hurting too. If I can console someone, I will,” she shot back.
Like throwing water on hot coals, Derek cooled down. “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised your husband would allow you to go out with a stranger.”
Her lip curled up at one corner. “Husband? What husband? I’m divorced. I have been for four years.”