Give It All

by Cara McKenna

  “I’d say that’s a wrap,” Kim said at long last.

  Raina eyed the clock. A minute to eleven. “That must’ve been six hours.”

  “Went by fast, didn’t it?”

  Raina nodded. The first few hours, sure. Since she’d realized Duncan was missing? Molasses on the moon. Had anyone seen him leave? Had anyone followed him—someone drunk and pissed and spotting an opportunity to rough up Public Enemy Number One? Or someone not drunk at all . . . Someone calculating and dangerous, their late-night vandalism MO thwarted by the watch and replaced by a more direct strategy?

  “Case,” she called, drawing him over.

  “Change your mind?” he asked. “Need me in makeup?”

  “When you quit riding this afternoon, did Duncan say what his plans were?”

  “No. Just that he was coming by here tonight.”

  “He did, for about a minute.”

  “Must’ve gone upstairs—this probably isn’t his scene.”

  “He’s not upstairs. And his bike’s gone.”

  Casey frowned at that. “You check in front?”

  They went outside, but nothing.

  “Weird,” Casey said as they went back in. “I don’t think he’s ridden in the dark before.”

  “See if Abilene needs any help. I’ll look upstairs again. Maybe he wrecked and had to walk back or—”

  “Whoa!” somebody shouted, whipping everyone’s heads around. “Turn up the TV. Looks like somebody found ’em. Somebody finally found the bones!”

  Raina started. “What?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Casey said in wonder, and leaned over the bar for the remote. “That motherfucker actually did it.”

  Chapter 25

  People shuffled out of Benji’s close to three, well after their final glasses were empty, and still wide-awake and talking about the news. About the bones that had been found, and about how it had been that Welch guy who’d apparently found them . . .

  And didn’t that seem awfully suspicious? Awfully coincidental? It had been bad enough that he’d taken those bribes off Levins, but to think he’d actually been a part of the murders . . .

  Raina had squeezed her fists and let her nails bite her palms, the pain the only thing that had kept her from screaming at everyone to shut their ignorant mouths. With the door finally locked, she marched to the bar and downed a shot of whiskey, gave her head a sharp shake.

  Casey slid a second tumbler over for her to fill. “That was some fucking weird night, huh?”

  She beamed him an annoyed look as she poured. “I can’t believe he told you and not me.”

  “He didn’t—I guessed. I can’t believe you thought he was out there joyriding all this time. Like that guy even knows how to do anything just for fun.” He knocked back his shot.

  “Still. I never expected that.” And she was pissed he hadn’t told her, considering every other secret he’d deemed her worthy of hearing. Though in fairness, she’d likely have told him he was wasting his time.

  She shut off the TV, buzzwords and sound bites cycling through her head relentlessly. The press hadn’t known much, but what few facts they did seem to possess, they’d repeated ad nauseum these past four hours.

  Who was the second man who’d been with Duncan? everyone was asking—the one also reportedly taken away by the feds. And had people noticed just how black the bones had looked, how disturbing, in those little glimpses caught by the first news crew on the scene?

  And who on earth had they belonged to?

  And what about Welch? Always what about Welch? He’d seemed like an asshole, but a murderer to boot? You just couldn’t trust foreigners, could you?

  Raina rolled her eyes at the thought.

  Kim, who back in August had gotten far too close to the danger for anybody’s comfort, had become visibly upset after the news broke. Vince had taken her home around midnight. Raina had sent Abilene off around that same time and had asked Casey to stay on until last-call orders were filled. It was her and Duncan’s appointed night to stay up, peering into the shadows, but seeing as how his detainment had made the news, a fresh wave of vandalism wasn’t top of her list of worries just now. The belligerent locals who’d been harassing him were probably throwing themselves a big-ass party right now, to think he was in custody . . .

  In custody for questioning, or detention? she had to wonder.

  She looked to Casey, who was loading the last of the glasses into the washer.

  “You think Duncan’s done himself any favors,” she asked, “finding those things?”

  He shut the washer and shrugged. “In the long run? I hope so. I mean, we all believe he’s innocent.”

  “Of course.”

  “No doubt the feds’ll be fucking with Levins’s head over this shit, too. Let’s hope he cracks under the pressure, spills whatever it is he knows. Him or that so-called witness.”

  She nodded, feeling deeply uneasy.

  Casey’s expression grew worried and he came close, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

  She shrugged him away, alarmed. “Ew, what are you doing?”

  “I’m being brotherly and comforting. Is it working?”

  “No, it’s weird. Knock it off.”

  He crossed his arms and dropped the concerned shtick. “Sorry. Usually chicks like getting hugged when they’re stressed-out. Forgot you’ve got a bigger dick than most of the dudes in this town.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “If you need me to stick around and talk, or drink, I can.”

  “I appreciate that, but no. I’ll be fine. Go home, Case.”

  He slumped in relief. “Thank fuck for that—I’ve been up for, like, thirty hours. See you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Place’ll be busy all week, thanks to the news. Come in around four?”

  “You got it.” He whipped his bar towel off his shoulder and onto her head, enclosing her in the damp, sour-smelling shroud before she snatched it off.

  “Shithead.”

  Casey smiled. “It was that or the hug. I choose wisely?”

  “Probably.”

  “See you tomorrow, boss.”

  She kicked him in the butt on his way out, then locked up behind him. Silence descended when his bike’s rumble faded, and she sighed, tired. And yeah, maybe she half wished Casey had stuck around.

  She shut off the main lights and wiped down the tables. It felt odd to be the only one left, in the wake of all that energy and noise. Odd to recall what a great night she’d been having, only a few hours ago, and how hopeful she’d felt. Odd to know that Duncan was less than a mile away, in federal custody—

  She jumped at the sound of knuckles rapping glass and whipped around. Her brain was already preoccupied with the shotgun under the bar, but the instinct was misplaced.

  It was Miah, of all people. She crossed the floor to let him in. “Hey. You’re a little late to the festivities. But I’m guessing you’ve heard the news.”

  “Actually, no. I just got released from the sheriff’s department, half hour ago.”

  “Whoa, what? That was you, with Duncan tonight?”

  He strode to pick two stools up off the nearest high top and set them on the floor, taking a seat. “That was me.”

  “How the heck did that come about? I know he found them way out on the range, but how’d you get involved? He ask your permission?”

  He patted the other cushion and she sat.

  “No, he didn’t. I was half a heartbeat from fucking him up when he told me he thought he’d found them.”

  “The bones.”

  Miah nodded, and told her what had gone on after. “After they questioned me, a deputy gave me a ride home. Then I got in my truck and came here.”

  “Well, you just missed the party—the shoot and the breaking news.”

&nb
sp; “I came to see you, actually.”

  She tightened at that. “Oh yeah?” You’re going to tell me to stay away from Duncan.

  His palms rubbed together between his knees, always a sign of emotional constipation.

  “Something you need to say to me, Miah?”

  A sigh, and he met her eyes, hands going still. “I’m not over you.”

  Her stomach dropped. “Right . . .”

  “I need to be, trust me. I want to be. But I’m not, and I think the only way I’m gonna get there is to straight-up avoid you for a while. It sucked bad enough before, when we were both single, but I won’t lie—this past week’s been fucking torture.”

  Raina wasn’t one to apologize for other people’s feelings, but she wasn’t sure what else to offer. “Sorry. That sounds real shitty.”

  He nodded.

  “I wondered if maybe you’d come to tell me to stay away from him. Duncan.”

  “I got no clue what to make of him, to be honest. I don’t approve of him, but I also know you’ve never held your breath for a second, waiting on anybody’s blessing.”

  She smiled.

  “I’d never really talked to him before tonight,” Miah added. “Not like a human being. He always came off so . . .”

  “Stiff?”

  “Or fake. Or just mean. The way he spoke to people, it always felt like he was . . . toying with them.”

  “He probably was, before he lost his job.”

  “It’s not like we bonded or anything—not remotely—but I guess maybe he became more human or something, watching him, like, digging through the dirt on his knees. Caring about something. I think before . . . I didn’t believe he was capable of that. Of caring about anything.”

  “Of caring about me,” she supplied.

  “Something like that. I’m still not a fan, but he’s a person now, instead of some . . . I dunno.”

  “Snake?”

  “Just about.” He paused, attention on his hands. “I wasn’t ready to let you go before.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t have kept going to bed with you.”

  “Not because of that . . . Not quite. Now I really just fucking need to let go. I can’t spend another week—or month, or year—feeling like this.” He shook his head, drew and released a long breath, and met her eyes. “I think I always assumed that the only reason we weren’t together was that you were afraid. Because you couldn’t stay with anyone, so it wasn’t personal. It wasn’t me. I had it in my head that we were so right—like an irrefutable fact. And that someday you were going to grow up and finally get sick of running, and realize what we had, and we’d wind up together again.”

  “We should’ve been right. You were my friend—I already loved and respected you. And the sex was fucking . . .” She rolled her eyes. The sex had been ridiculous. Different than with Duncan—not better or worse, no more or less intense, but as different as the men themselves. And yeah, ridiculous.

  He nodded, smiled sadly. “It was.”

  “I thought, if you can have stupid-hot sex with your good friend, that’s got to be it, right? That’s, like, the recipe for something that’ll last. I thought we were right, too. But I was never going to give you kids. A wedding day, maybe, if you’d pushed, but never a family. And I know you want that. And I knew if I gave you the chance, you’d talk yourself out of wanting it, to keep me.”

  He sighed a long breath through his nose. “I don’t know about that . . . But maybe. It doesn’t matter anymore, though. You like somebody, and I’m man enough to admit he’s not as awful as I’d thought. Sort of fucked-up—”

  “You have no idea.”

  “But you like him, genuinely?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I can tell.” He went quiet for a long moment, then frowned, looking puzzled. “So, if it’s not as simple as friends having stupid-hot sex, what is it? What do you two offer each other?”

  She considered it. “He needs me, I think. And I need to feel like I’m the strong one.”

  Miah smiled at that. “You never needed me. Not for a second.”

  “I don’t need Duncan, either. That’s why you and I never worked—you wanted to feel needed in return. I can’t fall for a man if I feel like I depend on him. That’d turn me off, that kind of dynamic.”

  “If Welch can handle that imbalance, more power to him,” Miah said. “You and I . . . You saw things about us I refused to. Like how I’d probably have come to resent you, a few years down the road, feeling like I was giving so much, when you can seem so . . .”

  “Cold.”

  “Not quite. But indifferent.”

  She nodded. “Maybe it’s telling, that I fell for a cat owner. Duncan’s used to settling for scraps of withholding, cagey female attention.”

  Miah laughed. “I’ve always hated cats.”

  “That’s so my style—stingy little morsels of affection. Give a man a taste, then wander off and do my own thing. Dogs are . . .”

  “Dog love is like a hose you can’t turn off,” Miah offered.

  “Yeah, one that never runs dry. Too much. All you can do is try to dodge the spray. Ugh. Sloppy.”

  He grinned—that broad, genuine smile she hadn’t seen him wear in two years, not since they’d still been together. “Bring it on.”

  His hands were splayed on his thighs, and she thumped the back of one softly with her fist. “I’m gonna toss out one of those rare little morsels, Miah, and tell you this: you’re going to make a great father someday.”

  “Someday.”

  Predictably, this little heart-to-heart left her feeling drained and vulnerable. But also proud for having said what she had. What he deserved to hear.

  “Anyhow,” Miah said, standing—he was an old hand at reading when Raina’s sincerity well was tapped out. “It’s late.”

  “Yeah. And with the investigation suddenly cranked back up, it’s going to be a crazy few days here in Gossip Central. I better turn in.”

  “Ditto. I just want you to know why I won’t be around much, for a while. I’ll see you at club meetings, for important stuff, but otherwise . . .”

  “It’s fine. Whatever you need. Whatever gets us back to how we were before we fucked everything up with the stupid-hot sex.”

  “Exactly.”

  She walked him to the door. “Thanks for filling me in.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you sometime.”

  She nodded. “Whenever you decide to.” She’d nearly said, You know where to find me, but in all honesty, who knew which would come first—her selling the bar or Miah moving on? But she had enough questions dogging her for one night.

  She drew him into a hug. Though she felt none of their old heat—not in her own body, at least—there was warmth. She stepped away and flipped the bolt. “Take care of yourself.”

  “And you get some sleep.”

  She closed the door, listened to his truck start up and drive off. As the night went silent once more, she slumped.

  Slumped, wondering if Duncan was stuck sleeping on some hard cot or bunk tonight, and how he was being treated. Like a criminal, likely.

  And underneath that, she felt slumped and weary and upended for more shapeless reasons, ones she couldn’t quite get a hold on. But something scary, to judge by the hollow feeling in her stomach.

  Something Miah had said hounded her. I’d probably have come to resent you. You can seem so indifferent.

  Totally true, totally fair.

  But when she thought about those things Duncan had said—whispered in the most intimate, needy moments, with his words and with his body . . . Hold me. Want me. During sex, no problem. But that wanting. Would that need bleed her dry, in time? Would she wind up running from yet another man who required more than she was willing to give? More than she was brave enough to offer, or perhaps more than s
he simply had in her. She’d given her dad so much, lost such a big chunk of herself when he died . . .

  Then she straightened, registering how egotistical it was, getting spun up over how crummy it’d feel if she had to break that man’s heart. He hadn’t even offered his heart yet. Hadn’t asked her for exclusivity, hadn’t asked if they were a couple. Certainly hadn’t told her he loved her. It was foolish to be telling herself she understood what he needed and expected, telling herself she understood him, had him all figured out, when all this really was so far was hot sex and a growing mutual fondness and curiosity.

  “My God, you really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?” she muttered, echoing Miah’s sentiments from last week’s not-quite breakup.

  What she did know for sure, what she trusted, was that Duncan got her. Or if not got her, he accepted her. Unlike every guy she’d ever dated, he took her as she was, instead of projecting some idea onto her. As good as Miah had been to her, he’d wanted to tame her. Soften her with his steady brand of love, domesticate her, turn her into the marrying kind, change her mind about kids. With that douche bag she’d fallen for in Vegas, she’d been taken for an easy mark. She’d dated a dozen guys and had had a dozen sets of two-dimensional expectations projected onto her. She’d been one man’s wayward fixer-upper, another’s brush with the wild side, another’s rebellious rebound, another’s sex goddess. Duncan Welch might have fantasized about dressing her up, but she knew that by the time they’d kissed, he’d realized she wasn’t the kind of girl you molded and modified.

  He didn’t want to change her.

  And she couldn’t say that about any other lover she’d let herself get close to.

  She had to wonder, though, now that she could admit she was becoming attached . . . would he even be here in a week or two?

  God willing, Duncan would be found innocent before long. He could tell Sunnyside to go fuck themselves the day he got released, leave for San Diego feeling only relief, seeing Raina as nothing more than some unlikely fling from a surreal, regrettable episode of his life. The fling to end all flings, maybe, but shit—he could leave without ever considering her his girlfriend.