by Vonna Harper
“Why the hell couldn’t she put getting her husband’s killer getting convicted ahead of a case of the nerves?”
From the beginning, she’d known they’d reach this point, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“It was more complicated than that. Buzz and the other man belonged to a gang. So did my father. Shortly after Buzz was arrested, the gang members started threatening Mom and me. I’m not sure why. Back then I didn’t know what questions to ask, and she didn’t explain.”
“What a mess.”
“It was a nightmare,” she admitted. “I remember her grabbing my arm one day when we were getting back from wherever we’d been and rushing us into this apartment we’d just moved to. She locked the door and made Blackie stand beside it, growling. We didn’t have a phone so of course we couldn’t call nine one one. Mom wet herself again that day.”
“The gang members had found you?”
“Yes. For a long time I didn’t understand how, but then I remembered Mom always went to the same grocery store because they gave her credit. Also, we got surplus food. Maybe they were waiting for her to show up.”
“The police couldn’t protect her?”
A headache was taking root in her right temple. Answering was easier than shaking her head. “I asked her about that one time. My dad never trusted cops—undoubtedly because he operated outside the law. She felt the same way.”
“As a consequence, she endangered her daughter’s life. Damn. Someone needed to knock some sense into her head.”
“No one did,” she said softly. “Unfortunately. My aunt and uncle—Dad’s sister and her husband—wanted to take me in, but when they learned what the gang members were doing, the decided they didn’t dare take the chance. It killed them, but their children were young then.”
“Your aunt and uncle sound like good people.”
“They are. Everything would have been different if Mom had told the police about the gang members. They could have protected us. Maybe we wouldn’t have run.”
“Run?” His question echoed around her.
“Mom was weak in a lot of ways. Emotionally unstable. Her reaction to anything she couldn’t control was to either pretend it didn’t exist or to run away. Buzz’s gang terrified her so much that instead of staying in the apartment we’d moved into after the killing—she couldn’t stand to be in that place and neither could I—she took us out of state.”
“How’d she support you?”
“Some welfare, some waitressing. The D.A.’s office here tracked her down through the welfare department and made her come back to testify. Apparently they threatened to take me if she didn’t. Even then they had to assign someone to stay with her.”
Determined not to make Maco think she’d followed in her mother’s frightened footsteps, she stood and faced him. Knowing she had nothing on from the waist down and that her breasts were partly exposed barely mattered.
“As soon as the trial was over, before the jury’s verdict, we left again. She never came back here.”
“What about Blackie?”
The question made it easy for her to smile. “I stopped being afraid of Blackie the night she saved my life. She was my best friend until she died.”
Maco returned her smile. His attention remained on her face, as if letting her know her emotions meant more to him than her body right now.
“What was Buzz’s sentence?”
“I can’t remember what they’d initially charged him with. I think that changed before the trial.” No matter how much distance existed between her and the nineteen-year-old who’d killed her father, thinking of him always chilled her. “He got life.”
“Is he incarcerated locally?”
“No. In a state prison, I understand. Why?”
Planting his hands on his knees, he stood. “A life sentence doesn’t necessarily mean until death. Have you checked to see if he’s still behind bars?”
As a child, the question would have frightened her, but not anymore. “I know he came up for parole a couple of years ago and got turned down. The recommendation was to keep him there.”
“Good.”
“I sometimes wonder what he’s like, how much he regrets what happened that night. He lost any chance at a future because of that single act. After all these years, he’s no longer a teenager but a hopefully mature man.”
“No longer someone who gets off on belonging to a gang and frightening a woman and her child, is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly. Too bad he can’t go back in time. I’m sure he wishes he could.”
“You’re charitable.”
“Just looking at things through grown-up eyes.”
“Which is how it should be.” Taking hold of the shirtsleeves, he drew her toward him. His growing erection reached out to welcome her. “I don’t want you to leave.”
His words and closeness nearly tore her apart. “Don’t say that, please.”
“You want the same thing, I know you do.”
Buzz. A name from the past. An old nightmare resurrected. Ancient conversations, sounds, and images stirred when she should have known better. An emotional explosion. One gunshot followed by another. Her father’s blood erupting from him.
Instead of stepping into his space as she longed to, she leaned back. Even with her eyes open and Maco’s naked body waiting for her, she heard the awful blast, her mother’s scream, her father’s cry.
She’d revealed so much tonight, exposed her past. For the first time in her life she’d laid out the worst night of her life and given someone unfiltered insight into her childhood. What had happened to the caution that had defined her up until now?
Did Maco really have that much control over her, and if the answer was yes as she suspected, how much had she risked? Could she take back her privacy? Rebury her weakness? Once more return the sound of a bullet tearing through her father to the past.
“Shari,” Maco said. “What is it?”
Shari. “I have to go.”
16
Maco had slipped back into his jeans so he could walk Shari to her car. She’d said good night but hadn’t kissed him, and he hadn’t pushed. Watching the way the night sheltered her vehicle, he tried to make sense of the look in her eyes at the end. Instead of being relieved because she’d told him what she had, suddenly she’d reminded him of a trapped animal, a doe frantically searching for freedom.
He understood. In some respects, he felt the same way.
Things were happening so fast between them. Too fast. The ink on his divorce documents was barely dry. What was he doing getting into another relationship when he was still figuring out where and how he’d screwed up the last time?
Relationship? Was that what he and Shari had? Maybe the only thing they had in common were the crazy Greenspeakers members.
Because standing barefoot on gravel didn’t make sense, he tenderfooted his way back inside. Determined not to mentally hash over anything involving Shari, he picked up his cell phone.
Jason answered on the second ring. “All quiet on the western front,” his brother said in response to Maco’s question about how things were going at the dam site. “Last time I was here alone after dark I wasn’t crazy about it, but the dogs make a difference. I figure they’ll let me know if I need to push the panic button. So, how’s it going for you?”
“Good question.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“She just left.”
“Hmm. Not spending the night. Is that what’s got you uptight ?”
“No. I knew from the beginning that she’d have to leave.”
“Too bad. Did the deed get done?”
Their mother had tried her best to raise her sons to respect privacy, but there wasn’t much the brothers didn’t know about each other. “Yeah.”
“Good, great, so-so?”
“Great. Maybe that’s the problem.” Part of it, at least.
&nb
sp; “Ha, now we’re getting down to it. Having your itches scratched is one thing. Wondering if a woman is crawling inside your skull’s another, isn’t it? Believe me, I know.”
Of course Jason did. He’d watched his wife die. “I didn’t expect to feel the way I do,” he admitted. “Her dog got shot either accidentally or on purpose. That doesn’t mean our astrological signs are compatible.”
“Do you even know what your sign is?”
“No.”
From where he was sitting, he could see the road leading to his place. Although he’d made sure there was adequate outside lighting on the property itself, he hadn’t done the same to the long, narrow drive, which meant Shari had driven into darkness. It wouldn’t have gotten much better once she reached the two-lane highway. Out in the country, streetlights didn’t exist. Although she’d said she knew the area, that didn’t ease his mind.
“Okay, let me take a stab at this,” Jason said, pulling Maco’s attention back to their conversation. “You’re still a wounded animal when it comes to the male-female thing. Been there done that, even though our circumstances were different in a lot of ways.”
“Yeah. Your wife died. Mine divorced me.”
“Either way our underpinnings took a direct hit. As a result you aren’t interested in hooking up with a woman for the foreseeable future. You want to pull Shari out from under your skin but don’t know how.”
“Tell you what,” Maco said on the tail of a yawn. “Figure out what I should do and let me know in the morning. Right now all I care about is hearing that all’s quiet on the western front, so I can get some sleep.”
“Sure you do, big brother, sure you do.”
The door to the office where Rachele was staying was open a crack, but when Shari snuck over to it, she heard Rachele’s soft snore. Fortunately the dogs knew the sound of her Bronco and hadn’t barked when she arrived. Her headlights had assured her that the two semi-trained guard dogs Rachele had left outside were bedded down on the front porch. They’d lifted their heads for a pat but hadn’t bothered to stand. Same with Ona.
Although she knew her house intimately and didn’t need more than the living room night-light, she was looking forward to morning and sunlight streaming in. Come morning she’d be too busy to have time to think about Maco. She wouldn’t make herself any crazier than she already was by asking herself why she’d gone off the deep end emotionally after the greatest sex of her life. She’d talked to her aunt and uncle about her dad’s murder. It wasn’t as if it was a fresh wound. However, something about being around Maco had turned her inside out and upside down. No denying it, she was in over her head with him. Daylight would help; at least it better.
Mentally berating herself, she picked up today’s mail only to put it down. She needed to try to get some sleep. Ona’s shooting coupled with what had been going on at the dam site had made her paranoid, but she’d get over it. If she hadn’t dumped on Maco about her past, she would have driven away from Maco’s place without wishing she had eyes in the back of her head.
Going into her bedroom, she shucked off her dress, which was all she’d bothered to put on before leaving Maco’s place, lay her cell phone on her night stand, and reached for her nightshirt.
She’d put it on and brushed her teeth before allowing her mind to work back in time. She hadn’t been thinking about what she was doing as she’d turned on to the county road, which meant she’d barely taken note of the few other driveways around where Maco lived. One about a quarter of a mile from his driveway had caught her attention, or rather the nondescript car parked maybe a hundred feet off the road had.
She hadn’t been able to see whether anyone was in the vehicle. It probably belonged to whoever lived there, but why wasn’t the car near the unseen house? Maybe it had broken down.
That was it, she told herself as she climbed into bed. She remembered the car because she felt sorry for whoever might have been stranded far from town. Hopefully the breakdown had happened hours before and the driver had gotten hold of someone who’d taken him or her home. Come morning, a wrecker or mechanic or new battery would show up. End of story.
Her phone rang.
Rolling over, she stared at it, her heart slamming. Then she saw the displayed number. Maco.
It rang again. Before it could ring for a third time, she picked it up and said, “Hello.” Her heart rate stayed higher than she wanted to admit.
“I wanted to check on you,” he said. “Make sure you’re home.”
“I am.” Was he, too, in bed? Maybe touching where her body had lain on the mattress?
“Nothing happened?”
“Nothing. I didn’t even see anyone else on the road until I got to the city limits.”
“Good. Shari, I’ve been thinking of something. I couldn’t figure out your aversion to guns, but now I understand. Just seeing one reminds you of your father’s murder.”
“If it’s a hang-up, it hasn’t caused me any trouble.”
“So far. Look, well, I’ll let you go. See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Her body buzzed. Her pussy ached.
“You were going to come back out so you could work with the dogs, my brother, and me, remember?”
“Oh. That’s right.”
“Did you forget?”
“Of course not. I just wasn’t thinking about—do you know what time it is?”
“Yeah.” He drew out the word. “Shari, things have been happening pretty fast between us.”
“Yes, they have.” She closed her eyes against the burning in them. “We need to slow down.”
“I’m glad you feel the way I do,” he said after a beat of silence.
I do, don’t I?
Three days of barely seeing Maco left Shari in an unexpected limbo. She’d gone to the dam site the morning after they’d had sex so she could observe him and his brother interact with the dogs. She’d shown them how to present certain instructions and was pleased by how they’d incorporated a firm yet friendly voice. Of course their voices were deeper than hers, but the dogs didn’t seem to mind. Neither did she.
As Maco had assured her would happen, Jason bonded with Bruce and Tucker in no time. Maco, too, had proven himself to be a quick study, so quick in fact that she’d had no reason to go back right away. She would later but wanted to give the brothers time alone with their animals.
Maco and she had talked every day, but the conversations had been brief and to the point. He’d wanted assurance that there’d been no further signs that someone who didn’t belong had come on to her property. As far as she knew, she told him, no one had. She’d been tempted to mention that she occasionally felt as if she was being watched but didn’t because, thanks to her sexually charged body, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
She, too, had needed to hear that Mustang Construction hadn’t experienced any more vandalism, which he’d reassured her was the case. After that silence had taken over and she’d used work as an excuse to hang up. What he fortunately couldn’t know about were her restless nights and a body that felt as if his touch would explode it.
Damn Maco for implanting the trigger in her body! At least there’d been no return of the flashback that had compelled her to cut and run the other night.
This morning’s call had included news on his part. The sheriff had reported that his deputies had finally tracked down Dyson, Rachele’s ex-boyfriend. He’d refused to give up anything specific about Greenspeakers. At the same time, he’d obviously wanted Rachele to forgive him for what he’d put her through. The detective who’d questioned him had made it clear that the only way for him to avoid being suspected of being involved in the vandalism at the dam site was to identify those responsible.
“According to Sheriff Bill,” Maco had told her, “Dyson was so nervous he couldn’t sit still. He’s afraid Rachele will charge him with kidnapping for taking her to that meeting. All he wants is to get out of this mess.”
Now, about an hour after talking to Maco, S
hari was passing what she’d learned on to Rachele.
Her employee pressed tanned fingers against the sides of her temple. “Poor Dyson. I do feel sorry for him. Other people take advantage of him, specifically those who believe the end justifies the means no matter how violent the means are.”
“The two of you aren’t in the same league,” she told Rachele. “I still don’t understand how the two of you hooked up.”
Rachele laughed and shook her head. “You need to meet Dyson, then you’d understand. That man’s living, breathing testosterone. Naked, he’s a god. Too bad there’s so little between his ears and that it took me so long to realize a hot bod isn’t enough.”
“Maybe that’s what we need, some kind of repellent that keeps away men who aren’t right for us.”
“Even if there were such a thing, would we use it?”
Stumped by the question, Shari changed the subject by telling Rachele that the owners of one of the dogs they boarded had called to say they were back from their vacation and would soon be picking up their pet.
“Prince is one dog I won’t be sorry to see leave,” Rachele said. “He and Dyson belong together. There isn’t a brain cell between them. Do you think I should encourage Dyson to cooperate with the sheriff’s department? Maybe make him think I’m considering pressing charges?”
“It might work, but you should talk to the sheriff first.”
“I guess. Dyson can be crazy unpredictable, so I don’t know if that would work. He’s easily swayed these days by those Greenspeakers bastards. It takes all kinds, doesn’t it?”
Shari agreed. Then they split up so Rachele could exercise the boarded dogs while she put together the report she always did on dogs for when their owners picked them up. The vacationers arrived early, which didn’t surprise her. Most pet owners could hardly wait to be reunited with their animals. When their Jack Russell terrier saw them, Prince went crazy yipping and dribbling urine. Husband and wife unsuccessfully tried to calm the dog. Then the husband picked Prince up, tucked him under his arm, and tossed the terrier into the car.