The Edge of Night

by Jill Sorenson

  He kissed her again with an open mouth, using his tongue.

  Murmuring her approval, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss in hungry bites, nipping at his bottom lip. His hand moved from her waist to her backside, cupping her to him. When his lower body met hers, she gasped in surprise, and he speared his tongue into her mouth possessively. She made an urgent sound and crushed herself against him, wanting his hands on her breasts.

  Maybe she was a little too aggressive, because he stumbled sideways, and the wall at her back fell away. They landed on the carpeted stairwell in a clumsy sprawl. When his weight settled on top of her, she experienced a moment of panic.

  “Stop,” she said, shoving at his chest.

  He rolled away from her immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  The way he responded laid most of her fears to rest. She smiled at him, touching his lips. “You see? You’re much better than Jack.”

  His eyes darkened, and she leaned toward him, replacing her fingertips with her mouth. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back, going slower this time, smoothing his hand down her hip. Rather than getting on top of her, he shifted his jeans-clad thigh between her legs, bumping a very sweet spot.

  She melted against him, lost.

  16

  Eric knew he should stop.

  But her mouth tasted so good, and her body was … por Dios. Every time he kissed her, her skin felt a little hotter. He couldn’t resist the temptation to press his thigh higher, rocking her against him.

  He didn’t have to stop. He was pretty sure she would let him continue. If he took her to her bedroom, he could make them both happy.

  He wanted it. She wanted it.

  But when her hands drifted down to his waistband, tugging on his belt, he had an attack of conscience. “No,” he said, tearing his mouth from hers.

  Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes half lidded. “Why not?”

  With all of his blood rushing south, he couldn’t think of a good reason. But he knew there was one, so he moved his thigh from between her legs. She moaned a drowsy protest, confused by his reticence. To take the sting away from the rejection, he bent his head to her bare stomach, placing an openmouthed kiss on her flat belly.

  She trembled beneath his lips.

  He stared at the wet mark his mouth had made, tortured by the impulse to drag down the front of her pants and keep going. He wasn’t sure he could do that without losing control or asking her to return the favor. His palo throbbed at the thought of her tongue on him.

  He groaned, resting his cheek against her stomach. “I can’t.”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “Please. I’m about to explode.”

  She stroked the back of his neck, acquiescent, and even that innocent touch drove him up the wall. He couldn’t remember being this primed before. His balls were going to ache como loco tonight.

  Despite his discomfort, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, about his fucked-up childhood and dead-end future. Deterrents, he realized. An explanation for his reluctance to get involved with her. No matter how badly he wanted her as his girl, it wasn’t going to happen right now.

  The close call with Junior had changed his life. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, wondering what to do next. He still didn’t know. Until he figured out how to disentangle himself from the mess he was in, he had no business hooking up with Meghan. His situation was too precarious.

  He couldn’t drag her down with him.

  When he lifted his head to speak, he heard someone open the front door. Sensing trouble, he braced his arms around her, looking over his shoulder.

  The “intruder” was her brother, in uniform.

  “I’m okay,” she said hurriedly.

  Eric appreciated the clarification; Officer Young had his right hand on his gun holster. “Get out,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Meghan held him back. “You don’t have to leave, Eric.”

  “The fuck he doesn’t!”

  “I’m going,” Eric said, standing up. At least he no longer had a hard-on. That would have made the situation even more awkward.

  Meghan glared at her brother, her lips quivering. “Why are you doing this? I’m not a baby anymore. You’re such an asshole!” Tears filling her eyes, she turned and fled, stumbling on the stairs in her haste to get away.

  Officer Young watched her go, a muscle in his jaw flexing. Eric remembered how he’d reacted to the news that she’d been assaulted—like any protective older brother. Although Eric respected his intensity, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

  “Let’s go,” he said, motioning for Eric to precede him.

  Eric walked out the door and down the sidewalk, growing more uneasy with each step. Now that the sexual haze had lifted, he realized the interruption wasn’t accidental. Officer Young had been looking for him.

  “You carrying any drugs, weapons, paraphernalia?”

  “No,” he said, tensing a little as he was patted down. Other than his wallet and keys, he was clean.

  “Have a seat.”

  Eric sat on the curb, his heart sinking.

  “Is that your Chevelle?”

  Although he told everyone the car was his grandmother’s, it was registered to him. “Yeah. It’s mine.”

  “I’ve seen you on a bike.”

  “I use that more.”

  “Easier to do drug deals?”

  It was, sometimes. Eric also enjoyed the freedom and anonymity of riding his bike. Because his friends didn’t know he had a car, they never asked him to take them anywhere or to transport illegal substances.

  He stared up at Officer Young, mute.

  “I’m investigating the drive-by shooting that happened last night. You know anything about it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If I lifted some fingerprints from the passenger door and compared them to the ones you just left in my house, they wouldn’t match?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been in a lot of cars.”

  “Do you bleed in a lot of cars?”

  Eric resisted the urge to smooth a hand over his scalp. He knew the cut on his head was a dead giveaway, but he doubted the police would run DNA tests.

  “Junior thought you were fooling around with his sister.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You think he’ll cover for you?”

  Eric couldn’t predict Junior’s next move. But even if his friend didn’t give him up, Conejo probably would. That mouthy little shit.

  “I also have some footage of a guy who looks like you crossing the border with Tony Castillo,” he continued. “Drug trafficking is a very serious charge.”

  Eric put his head in his hands, stifling a groan of dismay. He was so fucked! How could he talk his way out of this?

  “Give me one good reason not to arrest you.”

  “I can get information,” he blurted. “What kind of information?” Officer Young sounded interested.

  He moistened his lips, not sure how much to reveal. If he mentioned the recent murders, he’d be taken down to the station immediately. “It’s about a crime that happened ten years ago. An unsolved case.”

  “A murder?”

  Eric nodded, half convinced that the cases were related. According to Junior, Cristina had been found with a bandanna in her mouth. The girl from their past had been tied up, and then strangled, with one. It was an odd similarity.

  “You saw it happen?”

  Eric hesitated. “Not exactly. I need to talk to someone before I can say anything more. Give me a few days.”

  “You might not have a few days,” Officer Young said. “If I can put two and two together, placing you at the scene of the drive-by, so can Eastside. Don’t you think they’ll come after you?”

  Eric stared at his shoes, miserable. He’d already thought of that.

  “Have you ever conside
red getting out?”

  He gave Officer Young an impatient look. Of course he’d considered it. Over the past twenty-four hours, he’d done nothing but consider it. “It’s not that easy. People count on me. My grandma, my mom, my brother … my niece.”

  “Your niece?”

  “My brother’s daughter,” he said absently. “Jenny.”

  For some reason, Officer Young flinched at the name. He stared across the street, pensive. “You can’t help anyone from a jail cell.”

  Eric let out a harsh laugh. “People can do a lot of things from jail cells, but the difference is that I wouldn’t be walking away voluntarily. In my barrio, getting locked up is more acceptable than abandoning your responsibilities by choice.”

  “Do you really want to end up like your brother? Shanking homeboys in prison, a puppet for Dos Emes?”

  His throat closed up, and he could only shake his head.

  Officer Young didn’t appear sympathetic. “You seem like a smart kid. If I hadn’t just found you with my sister, I might feel bad for you. Do you think she owed you something for helping her the other night?”

  Eric glanced at the upper-floor window, wondering if Meghan was watching them. He wasn’t sorry he’d touched her. But he regretted very much having been caught. “It wasn’t like that. I was checking up on her.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I feel protective of her.”

  “You think you’re good for her?”

  “No. I’m not good for anyone.”

  Officer Young rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “I’ll give you two days,” he said. “In the meantime, try to keep a low profile. Don’t be out on the streets after dark, and don’t come here. If I see you in this neighborhood, I’ll arrest you on the spot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And if you ever fucking touch my sister again, you’ll wish Eastside got you before me. Entiendes?”

  Eric understood perfectly. He was no stranger to harsh threats, and he appreciated Officer Young’s no-bullshit attitude. Meghan’s brother was okay—for a cop. “Entiendo,” he replied, shaking Noah’s hand, cholo-style. “I will stay out of your barrio.”

  He left in a hurry, knowing he’d dodged another bullet. For now.

  There was no way he could continue selling drugs. Without the extra income, his grandmother would have to go back to Mexico, where she had limited access to her diabetes medication. He had no solution for that problem, but April and Jenny could manage without his help, and his mom would be okay.

  Maybe he could join one of those work programs and start sending money to his family again once he got settled.

  First he had to stay alive, and stay out of jail.

  Unfortunately, he also had to talk to Raul.

  Noah watched Eric drive away, wishing he was convinced he’d done the right thing. He didn’t know who to trust anymore or what to believe.

  He’d been bluffing about arresting him, fishing for a promise that Eric wouldn’t come sniffing around Meghan again. CVL had a code against talking to the police, so Eric had a pretty good chance of escaping charges. This time.

  The bigger threat to Eric by far was a retaliatory strike by Eastside.

  He didn’t know if Eric was lying about the unsolved murder, either. Police officers made shady deals with criminals all the time, looking the other way in exchange for information, but that wasn’t Noah’s style.

  He felt disconnected from himself, a stranger in his own uniform.

  With a heavy heart, he went back inside to check on Meghan. Attending to personal business while on duty was another rarity for him. Soon he’d be taking bribes, eating lunch at the strip club, and napping in his squad car.

  The door to her room was closed. He knocked lightly.

  “Go away.”

  He went in.

  Meghan was sitting on her bed, pretending to listen to her iPod. Her eyes were swollen and her nose was red.

  He pulled a ladder-back chair away from a small desk. It occurred to him that he’d never seen either piece of furniture before. “Where did this stuff come from?”

  “I bought it at a garage sale.”

  The desk was old, its wood surface lightly scarred. She’d placed it facing the room’s only window, which overlooked the front yard. He imagined her studying there and felt a sudden pressure behind his eyes. “Meggie—”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He massaged the bridge of his nose, wishing he could tell her how he felt, rather than what he knew. She was the emotional center of the family, the one most likely to share her feelings, initiate a hug, or say I love you. He couldn’t bear to see her so withdrawn.

  “He’s a gang member.”

  Her brows rose. “So?”

  “He was involved in a shooting attempt last night.”

  She tugged the earpieces of her iPod out. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Did you notice the cut on his head? After a high-speed pursuit, the car he was in flipped three or four times.”

  “Was he driving?”

  “No.”

  “Was he the shooter?”

  Noah hesitated. “I don’t think so, but he can still be prosecuted for participating. And his rivals don’t care if he pulled the trigger.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, concerned for Eric.

  “He put you in danger by coming here. I told him I’d arrest him if he touched you again.”

  Her face fell. “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can. And it’s for your own good. You were sexually assaulted, Meg. If you don’t think your behavior is a cry for help, you’re kidding yourself.”

  “Oh, my God,” she wailed, fisting her hands in her hair. “You are so melodramatic! I wasn’t even raped. I’m fine.”

  “Promiscuity is common in victims—”

  “I’m not promiscuous.”

  “What do you know about Eric?” he pressed. “Besides the fact that he’s a gang member who likes to fight at parties?”

  “That’s not fair,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you know about your new girlfriend, the single mom? Let me guess—she’s hot.”

  Noah felt a flush rise up his neck. Meghan had a good point. He didn’t know April very well, apparently. Their attraction was based on physical chemistry, and perhaps he’d overlooked some red flags, in a haze of lust.

  Patrick was right, too. Noah had always been a sucker for the sweet-and-innocent act.

  “Eric’s brother, Raul, is in prison,” he said quietly. “He’s a member of the Mexican Mafia, a hard-core criminal organization. And he’s Jenny’s father.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. “He’s … what?”

  “Jenny’s father.”

  “April told you that?”

  “No. Patrick did.”

  “Oh,” she said, the layers of it sinking in. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Noah said, raking a hand through his hair. This certainly put a damper on his lecture about dating the wrong person.

  “Have you talked to her about it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You think she’s playing you?”

  He shook his head. Every conversation they’d had seemed so real. He hated the idea that she’d been feigning interest in him, leading him on. “She almost said no the first time I asked her out. If she has an agenda, I don’t see how avoiding me fits into it.”

  “Right,” Meghan said, her shoulders relaxing. “You know, some women don’t even tell a guy they have kids on a first date.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “I read it in Cosmo.”

  That figured.

  She gave him a hopeful look. “Did it go well yesterday?”

  “It wasn’t perfect,” he admitted, thinking about April’s reluctance to let him pay and their argument at the end of the day. “The things that went wrong went really wrong. But the things that were good …”

  “Were really good?”

  �
��Phenomenal.” The time spent on her couch was a highlight, of course, but even without it, the date had been special.

  “Do you want to see her again?”

  “Yes,” he said, amazed at his knee-jerk reaction. He was still desperate to be with her. God. He was already whipped.

  Meghan jumped up from the bed. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

  Intrigued, he followed her down to the garage, watching while she hit the punching bag. She’d obviously had some boxing lessons. “Who taught you that?”

  “Eric.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  Noah didn’t want to revise his opinion about Eric. There was no doubt in his mind that the kid wasn’t good enough for his sister. He was a petty criminal, at best.

  But—he’d fought for Meghan. And encouraged her to fight for herself.

  “When he stopped by, I was out here, trying to learn on my own. He offered to show me some moves.”

  He’d shown her some moves, all right. On the stairwell.

  “Maybe I do feel a little … scared. And I know you want me to talk about what happened. But I don’t want to talk about it. I want to just go on.” She hit the punching bag again. “Being with Eric is one of the ways I’m dealing with it. He makes me feel safe.”

  Noah pressed his fingertips to his eye sockets, taking a moment to collect himself. “I’m your big brother. I want to make you feel safe.”

  She steadied the bag, leveling with him. “You can’t.”

  17

  April arrived at Club Suave a few minutes early on Tuesday. Since her car’s air-conditioning quit, she’d been getting ready at work.

  Sailing into the bathroom stall with an oversize bag, she took off her sundress and stepped into her fishnet stockings. She was still tugging them into place when another waitress came in, heels clicking.

  Carmen popped her head over the divider. “Te lo cogiste?”

  April straightened, holding her tank top to her chest. “No,” she said in a furious whisper, glaring at her friend. Carmen knew she’d had a date with Noah on Sunday and they hadn’t spoken about it yet. “I did not ‘fuck’ him.”