by Beth Andrews
Best. Apology. Ever.
No way she’d ruin it by wondering whether Joe’s newfound determination would last, or if Marcus would be able to forgive him, or how she would manage to say goodbye when Joe had put in his time at T&P.
She almost didn’t answer her phone when it rang. For one thing, she’d have to stretch her arm all the way over to the bedside table to reach it. For another, she recognized the ringtone. But she might as well get the daily status check over with.
“Good morning, Mr. Tackett.”
“Not for you, Kincaid. You’re fired.”
She gasped and shot upright. “What?”
“Mahoney called. Said he’d heard from Gallahan. Seems they worked out a deal where you and Gallahan would handle Mahoney’s account together. That wasn’t part of your assignment, Kincaid. You don’t get to make those kinds of decisions. You’re through.”
“You can’t—”
“I just did. You tell that boyfriend of yours that if he doesn’t show up as agreed I’ll sue his ass for breach of contract. I have an email trail and I’m not afraid to use it. Meanwhile, get your own ass back here and clear out your desk.” He disconnected.
Allison stared down at her phone. Fired. She’d been fired.
No job. No paycheck. Oh, God. No way to pay Sammy—
Joe. He’d done this. On purpose? Allison ran shaking fingers through her hair as anger flared, like the match Marcus longed to strike. Joe had to have known Mahoney would tell Tackett. Had to have figured Tackett would blow a fuse. And from day one he’d made it clear he’d like nothing better than to get back at Tackett by convincing Allison to quit her job.
She jumped to her feet and paced, stopped long enough to kick at the emerald-green pillow that had fallen to the floor. No. She knew better. She was mad at herself, not Joe. He’d only been looking out for her. She should have guessed that Mahoney would mouth off to Tackett.
What a god-awful mess.
So much for having options.
She slumped down onto the bed and dropped her face into her hands. With no paycheck coming in, how was she supposed to make her next loan payment? And exactly what would Sammy do, when he didn’t get his money?
* * *
HANDS ON HIPS, jaw set at an “I’m gonna kick somebody’s ass” angle, Joe eyed his so-called helpers, who were lounging against the bar, cracking jokes and sipping brews. Meanwhile, the tub hadn’t been installed in Mitzi’s pen, the door hadn’t been hung and the wood shavings and dust from their morning labors had been tracked all over the floor.
“Are you two kidding me? Looks like you didn’t do squat while I was gone.”
“Ate lunch.” Noble toasted Joe with his beer before taking a swig, while Snoozy turned to face the bar and started stacking dishes.
“Noble had the chili.” He gave Joe a look over his shoulder. “Two bowls.”
“Judas Priest, just kill me now.”
“Kiss my ass, Gallahan.” Noble pushed a bottle in his direction. “Have a beer. Then we’ll finish up and you can get back to your pretty little guest. Have to say, you two make a good team.”
A loud clatter as Snoozy fumbled a bowl. He snatched up a towel, scrubbed furiously at a water stain, then rounded the bar. “I’m going to check on Mitzi.” He headed for the stairs.
Noble rubbed his chest. “Bring me some antacid, will you, Snooze?”
Joe winced as the door at the top of the stairs banged shut. “Snooze seems pissed. Regretting his decision to close the bar for the afternoon?”
“Nah. He’s in love with your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Well, she’s a lot more to you than she’ll ever be to Snoozy.”
“‘A lot more’ still isn’t enough.”
“That have anything to do with your mysterious errand?” Noble sat up straight. “You didn’t buy her a ring, did you?”
“No.” Though he might have considered it, if he thought there was the slightest chance she’d accept it. But of course she wouldn’t, and he couldn’t blame her. He had some changes to make first.
Changes that would take time.
“What’s it to you, anyway?” he asked Noble.
“The crankier Snoozy gets, the hotter he makes his chili. You and Allison get together and I’ll have to swear off the stuff altogether.”
“That’s worth getting married right there.”
“Watch it, tough guy.”
A scrabbling sound overhead. They both frowned up at the ceiling as they heard Snoozy running across his apartment.
“Think she bit him?” Noble surged to his feet, losing control of his beer, which ended up all over the front of Joe’s T-shirt. “Think she’s after him?”
“Noble, man, what the hell?” Joe grabbed a handful of napkins and swabbed at his chest.
“Joe,” Snoozy shouted from the top of the stairs, and practically fell down the rest of the way. “Joe!”
The alarm in the bartender’s voice punched the air right out of Joe’s lungs. He dropped the napkins and stumbled forward as Snoozy appeared at the foot of the stairs, thin chest heaving, face paper-white.
“Tell me,” Joe demanded.
Snoozy wrenched his keys out of his pocket. “I just heard it on the scanner. We have to go. Your motel’s on fire.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TWO MILES FROM the motel they spotted an ominous tube of smoke. Fat plumes of gray intertwined with black, connecting earth to sky like a sinister, ghostly version of Jack’s beanstalk. One mile away they could smell it, the thick, stinging odor telling Joe what Snoozy had already guessed—the motel was suffering major damage.
But that wasn’t why Joe felt like he’d been body slammed by the entire volunteer fire department.
Please let her be okay. Please, God, please...
“She was pulling paneling,” Joe said, his voice barely recognizable, even to himself. “The wiring... What if something shorted? What if the room went up before she could get out?” Noble put a hand on his shoulder. Joe shook him off and glowered over at Snoozy. “Can’t you make this piece of shit go any faster?” He’d wanted to drive but they’d bullied him into the passenger seat. Poor Snoozy was so tense he was practically kissing the steering wheel. Joe gritted his teeth.
Damn it, he needed to be there. Now.
“She’s okay, Joe.” Snoozy risked a sideways glance. “The call over the scanner said nothing about injuries.”
Injuries. Jesus, he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her because of that lame-ass deal they’d made. He wanted to shout, wanted to put his fist through the dash, was climbing out of his skin with the need to be there.
And then they were. Snoozy turned the Jeep into the parking lot, and all three of them sucked air.
The last three rooms of the motel were engulfed in flames, and the fire was working its way to the woods. Son of a bitch. Two firefighters manned a hose hooked up to the tanker truck, blasting water at the burning building, while two others toted axes around the back of the motel and another two suited up. The fire chief stood in the middle of the sodden parking lot, talking to the sheriff beside him when he wasn’t talking into his radio. Red and blue emergency lights flashed and flickered warnings that were no longer needed. An ambulance sat with its doors open and Joe went cold. He fumbled with the door handle, but his fingers had gone suddenly numb.
A deputy and several volunteers guarded a temporary perimeter that bisected the parking lot. The deputy waved Snoozy through when Noble stuck his head out of the window.
Joe stumbled out of the Jeep and a blast of hot air almost knocked him on his ass. And the noise—beneath the roar of the water shooting out of the hose and the rumble of still-hungry flames, men were shouting, glass shattering and wood cr
eaking and popping. Noble and Snoozy appeared on either side of him, eyes wide, mouths shut. What was there to say?
His dream...Braden’s dream...was collapsing before his eyes. But at that moment all he gave a damn about was finding Allison. Thank God he didn’t have to worry about Marcus, too—it was too soon for the kid to have gotten back from Buffalo.
Where the hell are you, slick?
“Help me find her,” he begged, then took off toward the fire chief, all the while scanning the lot for Allison’s Camry. Didn’t see it. Had the fire department hauled it out of the way, or by some miraculous stroke of luck, had she been away from the motel when the fire started?
“Joe.” Burke stepped into his path. “I’m sorry, man, I can’t let you get any closer.” He reached out but Joe dodged him. Rolled his fingers into fists and widened his stance, more than ready to flatten anyone who got in his way of finding some answers. Finding the answer.
“Where is she? Where’s Allison?” His gut felt hollow and his throat burned, like he’d been breathing smoke for days.
“Not here.” Burke took off his helmet and shifted again, into Joe’s line of sight. “Joe. She’s not here. We managed to check out all of the rooms before things got too bad, confirmed the motel was empty.”
Joe sagged. “Thank God,” he muttered, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You can say that again.” The firefighter glanced over his shoulder. “Looks like they’re getting it under control. I’d better get back over there.”
“Any idea how it started?”
“Once we’ve put the sucker down we can start checking for origin. We’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, you should give your insurance company a call.”
“Thanks, man. For everything.” They shook hands. Burke gave him a solemn clap on the back and jogged away, toward the fire chief.
“I don’t know what to say, other than ‘this sucks.’” Noble came up, shaking his white-blond head. “For damn sure the next round at Snoozy’s is on me, on account of no one got hurt.”
Not yet, anyway. Joe breathed a silent prayer for the firefighters. “I’m not drinking anymore, man.” Noble gaped while Joe turned in a slow circle, scanning the parking lot, waved thanks in response to a parade of sympathetic looks. At least the curious were keeping their distance—he didn’t think he could deal with all that goodwill right then. “I don’t know where Allison went, but she’s in for one hell of a shock when she gets back.”
“I think she just did.”
“Joe!” he heard. “Joe!”
He turned, saw her running at him and opened his arms. She threw herself into his embrace and held tight. The ache in his chest finally eased. “Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered.
“Me? What about you?” She pressed a kiss to his neck, then slowly unwound her arms, and gazed at the sobering activity around them, the portion of the motel still in flames. Her chin trembled. “I—I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry this happened.”
“I’m thankful you weren’t here when it did.” He pulled her close again, dug his fingers into her shoulder blades, breathed in. But instead of her familiar scent he smelled smoke. “Where were you?”
“Ivy invited me to lunch.” She leaned back and stared toward the motel. Her troubled gaze reflected the orange glow of stubborn flames. Joe angled her away.
“Thank God Marcus is in Buffalo,” she said fervently. “He is still in Buffalo, isn’t he?”
“Should be. I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him.”
She scanned the parking lot, as he had earlier, her teeth digging into her lip.
“What is it?”
“Just...” She shook her head. “I hope Tigerlily’s okay, wherever she is.” He murmured in agreement. He missed that little so-and-so.
Allison swiped at her eyes. “So...what now?”
“Now we wait until the fire department says it’s safe to go inside, and we see what we can salvage.” He grimaced. “Your clothes and your computer...there’s a good chance they suffered smoke or water damage. Or both.”
“Considering that most of it was paid for by T&P, I guess I can’t be too upset about it. Tackett might be, but since I don’t work for him anymore I won’t let that bother me.”
He went still. “Want to run that by me again?”
She tried a smile that didn’t quite come off. “I...don’t work there anymore.”
“You quit?” Despite the disaster playing out behind them, a hot, happy swell of hope damn near choked him. Had she decided to stay? Judas Priest, did she plan to give them one more shot? He wanted to haul her into his arms again, but something about that smile... Instead he reached out and cupped her elbows, gave her a little shake. “When did this happen?”
“I didn’t quit, Joe. Tackett fired me. This morning, after you left. I was going to tell you tonight.”
“What happened?”
“He found out we’d been talking to Mahoney. Which violates my confidentiality agreement.”
“But I’m the one who talked to Mahoney.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t. I got you fired.”
* * *
“I GOT YOU FIRED,” Joe said again, slowly. He looked over at the smoldering remains of the motel, then looked back at Allison. Ran a shaking hand through his hair. “That job meant everything to you. Losing it, on top of everything else I’ve put you through...that must have really pissed you off.”
Allison’s tongue felt suddenly thick. The ugly suspicion in his navy eyes was zapping the strength right out of her muscles. “W-what are you saying?”
“You were here alone. You knew no one would get hurt.”
“Oh, my God, Joe. You can’t think that I... How could you even...” She lifted shaking fingers to her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Couldn’t imagine that he’d think her capable of something so monstrous. After all they’d been through...all they’d shared. Even after what Marcus had confided, she’d never accuse him of something like this. She knew him.
Apparently better than Joe knew her.
“You’ve been drinking,” she choked. “You smell like beer. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Tell me the truth,” he demanded. “Do you know something about this?”
She couldn’t keep the guilt out of her face. And the look he threw her was just this side of loathing.
She wished she could disappear, just tuck herself away, fold herself up like a wrinkled piece of paper and seal herself inside an envelope.
She had nothing to go back to, and she had nothing here.
She had nothing.
Someone, a man, came up and spoke to Joe, offered condolences, said something about Marcus. Allison managed to shake herself out of the heavy haze of hurt and disbelief, recognized Cal, saw the shocked expression on Joe’s face and imagined she must be wearing its twin. She heard words, but they didn’t register.
Her car. She had to get to her car. Then she could have her breakdown, in the quiet comfort of her secondhand Camry.
She passed the sheriff, Cal and Joe, heard the sheriff say something about vandals, heard Joe mention wiring. She stumbled, felt a hand under her elbow, squinted up into Joe’s tortured gaze.
“Allison. Jesus.” She jerked at her elbow, but he wouldn’t let go. “Wait. Please forgive me. I was upset, I know you’d never—” His jaw pulsed. “Please. Listen to me. Let me apologize.”
“It’s too late for that.” God, was that her voice? She swallowed, and tasted ash.
He swore under his breath, tugged her gently to a halt. “I was so damned scared. I heard about the fire and didn’t know if you’d been hurt. Then you’re here and telling me you don’t work for T&P anymore and I thought...I thought you were going to tell me
you quit. To stay here. With me.”
She should feel something. She knew she should feel something. But she didn’t, other than an icy deadness, creeping into her veins.
“Joe. Allison.” Burke strode up, helmet gone, jacket hanging open. “Give us another hour and you’ll be clear to enter the motel, check out the damage. It’s not as bad as it could have been, in the part that’s still standing, anyway. Hopefully you’ll find something you can salvage.” He hesitated, looked from one to the other, backed away. Allison was shaking her head.
“There’s nothing worth saving.” She pulled free.
“Al. Please. Tell me how to fix this.”
“There is no fixing this. I said it from the beginning. We don’t know each other.”
“We do know each other. We love each other. I love you. I know you love me, too.”
“No.” She wagged a finger as she backed toward her car. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to use the L-word as a last-ditch effort. You never said it before and suddenly I’m supposed to trust that you mean it?” Everything inside her stung, every last piece of who she was scrubbed raw by his accusations.
It wasn’t true. He couldn’t love her. If he did he’d never believe she could so heartlessly torch his tribute to his brother.
“We need to talk about this. Let me take you to Ivy’s. She’ll let us clean up, give us a place to stay until we—”
“I have a place. In Alexandria.” She swallowed a hot surge of grief and forced herself to move in close, brushed bits of cinder from his shoulders. “We both knew this was temporary. It just turned out to be a little more temporary than we expected.” She lifted her chin, showed him the resolution in her eyes. “Good luck, Joe.”
She managed to pivot without falling on her ass, despite the high heels she’d gotten out of the habit of wearing. She stuck her hand in her pocket, rediscovered the piece of tumbled green glass and walked away.
First stop: the lake. Where she’d finally see how many skips she could get out of this pathetic excuse for a good-luck charm.
* * *