The Edge of Night

by Jill Sorenson

  “Are you out of the gang?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you have to get jumped out?”

  “I was never jumped in.”

  “How’d you get in?”

  He shrugged. “I was born in, I guess. My dad, my brother … all of my male family members were already in.”

  “How do you get out when you’re born in?”

  “You move away. Or die.”

  Meghan lifted her head, seeing that he was serious. “Are you going to move away?”

  “Maybe I won’t have to. There’s something I need to figure out. A deal I might be able to make.”

  Troubled by his words, she rested her cheek over his heart. “I don’t want you to die,” she murmured, fingering his crucifix.

  He slid his hand down her arm, stroking her skin. “Let’s talk about something else. When I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

  She let her fingertips wander down his rib cage, along his clenched stomach muscles. “We don’t have to talk at all.”

  He trapped her hand before it went farther. “Meghan—”

  “My ex-boyfriend cried the first time we had sex. Is that normal?”

  “Uh … no.”

  “He said that we needed to get married to absolve the sin.”

  “No offense, but he sounds like a wimp.”

  She laughed a little, relieved. “I thought I did something wrong.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t enjoy it much.”

  He didn’t seem surprised by that, but he looked interested. And he felt interested, his abdomen taut beneath her palm.

  “Maybe I need more practice,” she whispered, kissing his chest.

  He sat up abruptly, moving her hand away from his belt. “This isn’t a very secluded place—”

  “I don’t care.”

  Moistening his lips, he studied the cramped space inside the cab. “Okay,” he said, sliding over to the passenger side once again. Then he pulled her into his lap, facing away from him.

  Meghan went still, uncomfortable with the position. It reminded her of Jack, of being grabbed from behind. But this was Eric, and his touch made her feel safe. The instant his lips met her exposed nape, she melted against him.

  His open mouth found sensitive spots she hadn’t known existed. He kissed each shoulder, slipping her bra straps down. His lips touched the ridges of her spine and the dips of her shoulder blades. By the time his mouth returned to her neck, her nipples were tight, jutting against the lace cups of her bra, and her sex pulsed with awareness.

  She moaned in frustration, wriggling on his lap. His erection pressed hard against her bottom, teasing her.

  He slid his hand between her legs, rubbing her through the thin fabric of her leggings. Pleasure blossomed from the spot, making her gasp. The contact was incredibly arousing, but she wanted more.

  Instead of giving it to her, he lifted his hands to her breasts, tugging at the cups of her bra. He scraped his teeth over her nape, pinching her nipples gently.

  “Oh!” she breathed, digging her nails into the vinyl seat.

  Finally he went back down, slipping his fingertips under the waistband of her leggings, into the front of her panties. He groaned when he encountered her wet, swollen flesh. She grabbed his wrist and held him there, panting with excitement. He alternated between dipping his fingers inside her and stroking her with his slick fingertips until she bit back a scream, shattering in his arms.

  When it was over, she rested her head against his shoulder, her pulse throbbing. She could hear the buzz of insects outside, the sound of a summer night. “Is that it?”

  He laughed roughly, pushing her off his lap. “Are you disappointed?”

  “No,” she said, very aware that the pleasure had been one-sided. “I mean, yes. You didn’t finish.”

  “There isn’t enough space in the cab for that.”

  “Hmm,” she said, sliding down to the floorboards, kneeling between his splayed knees. “Plenty of room here.”

  A muscle in his jaw jumped as he took another glance out the back window, checking the deserted parking lot. “We’re going to get caught,” he murmured, but it was a token protest. He wanted this. When she took off her bra, his eyes glazed over.

  Smiling, she bent forward, pressing her lips to his abdomen. “No one can see me.”

  He stared at her mouth, swallowing hard.

  Delighting in her feminine power, Meghan unbuckled his belt and lowered his zipper. “Tell me what you like.”

  He said something in Spanish, more a curse than an instruction.

  She tugged down the front of his boxer shorts and circled her hand around him, squeezing and stroking. He watched her tentative motions, mesmerized. When she bent her head to him, tasting the hot skin, he shuddered. Emboldened by his response, she swirled her tongue around the blunt tip.

  “Fuck,” he choked, threading his fingers through her short hair. “Open your mouth.”

  She complied on instinct, taking him deeper than she’d imagined was possible. Letting him guide her, she moved her wet mouth up and down his length, sucking firmly. It was a fairly intuitive act, and he appeared to have no complaints about her technique.

  She reveled in his whispered curses, his masculine taste.

  “Stop,” he said suddenly. “Stop!”

  She lifted her head, questioning.

  He grabbed his bandanna and wrapped the cloth around himself, spilling into it with a strangled groan.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes, breathing hard. “Did you want me to come in your mouth?”

  “Yes.”

  Leaning his head back against the seat, he laughed. “I was trying to be polite.”

  Pleased with herself, she refastened the front clasp of her bra and found her discarded dress on the floor.

  He straightened also, shoving the bandanna into the empty ashtray. She stared at his exposed body, curious. His lean, muscular torso narrowed to a trim waist. A line of dark hair ran from his navel to his groin. His penis, which had softened some, twitched at her perusal. Scowling, he put it away.

  “What now?” she asked, afraid that their time together had drawn to a close.

  He seemed as uncertain about the next step as she was. Instead of making promises, he gathered her against his chest and held her, savoring these stolen moments. Protecting her from the outside world, where the odds continued to stack against them.

  20

  Noah hadn’t called.

  April tried to push thoughts of him from her mind, but her eyes kept straying to the kitchen countertop, the sugar bowl, the refrigerator. She felt sad and sluggish. Jenny was sitting beside her on the couch, watching a SpongeBob marathon.

  Sighing, April took her coffee to the kitchen window and stared out into the backyard. The grass was overgrown, the flower planter full of weeds. She needed to do some gardening. In a few hours the morning sun would burn through the marine layer, but right now the weather was cool enough for the task.

  “Let’s go outside,” she said, clicking off the TV.

  Jenny made a sound of protest, but her attention was easily diverted. “To play?”

  “To work.”

  Jenny liked helping April in the garden. Excited, she leapt up from the couch and ran to her room to get dressed. She put on an orange T-shirt and pink shorts, old clothes that didn’t matter. “Don’t forget your shoes and socks,” April said, ruffling her hair. Jenny would go barefoot all day if April let her.

  April donned her own “play clothes,” a pair of torn jeans and an old tank top. Tugging her hair into a ponytail, she went to the garage for her gardening tools.

  Working outside felt therapeutic. She cut the grass with her old-fashioned push mower. The only tree in their backyard, a California pepper, also needed trimming. It offered a nice amount of shade and a sturdy limb for Jenny’s swing, but the tiny yellow flowers attracted bees, and the she
dding leaves created a lot of debris.

  While April clipped the drooping branches, Jenny raked up the leaves. Together, they shoveled the green waste into a garbage bin. By the time April put on her gardening gloves to tackle the flower planter, the sun was high and hot overhead.

  “Can I fill up the pool?” Jenny asked.

  Using the back of her wrist, April pushed a lock of hair off her sweaty forehead. “Sure. Go put your suit on.”

  The kiddie pool was about four feet wide, just big enough for Jenny to stretch out in. At the end of the season, it was showing some wear and tear. Next summer April would have to buy the next size up.

  April continued to pull weeds while Jenny rinsed the grit from the bottom of the pool and filled it with clean water. “How is everything at Consuela’s house?” she asked. “Do you still like it there?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Are the girls nice?”

  “Yes. Well, Fabi pinched me yesterday.”

  April looked over her shoulder. “That’s enough water,” she said, turning off the spigot. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. It didn’t hurt.”

  “You’d tell me if someone hurt you, wouldn’t you?”

  Jenny brought her beach toys to the pool. “Uh-huh.”

  April had asked the question before, when Jenny attended the on-campus day care. She’d also asked if Josefa ever spanked her or lost her temper. Jenny said no. April didn’t want to dwell on the dark subject, but she felt compelled to bring it up on occasion.

  Josefa had left April with a couple of inappropriate caregivers while she was growing up, including one of her loser boyfriends. April remembered agonizing over the decision to tell her mother what he’d done. Luckily, Josefa had taken April’s word over his and thrown the sorry bastard out.

  But the shame she’d felt hadn’t left with him. It had eaten her up inside, convinced her that she’d invited his attention. The shame had made her vulnerable to more abuse. And, when Raul struck her for the first time, it had kept her quiet.

  “You can tell me anything,” April said.

  “I miss Abuelita.”

  “So do I, m’ija.”

  “When will she come back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe next summer.”

  Jenny started to chat about plans for her sixth birthday, which was ten months away. She wanted horse rides, and an inflatable jumper, and a giant chocolate cake. April turned back to the planter, smiling. “We can have the cake, for sure.”

  A few minutes later the doorbell rang.

  “Can I get it?” Jenny asked.

  April rose, dusting off the knees of her jeans. “No. I don’t want you dripping water all over the floor.”

  “Okay.” Manipulating the arm of her Little Mermaid doll, she waved goodbye.

  Feeling a twinge of apprehension, April walked through the house, checking the peephole before she answered the door.

  It was Noah.

  She’d been thinking about him constantly, tortured by regrets. He’d treated her badly. She’d treated him worse. Then they’d—oh, God. He wasn’t perfect, but he was good. And he’d break her heart if she let him.

  His eyes traveled over her face, her gardening attire.

  “Hi.”

  She gave him a similar perusal. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a brown paper bag at his side.

  “Hi.”

  “I was a jerk to leave you like that the other night.”

  In her fantasies of this moment, he apologized and she slammed the door in his face. In reality, she left it open. “Jenny’s in the pool,” she said, glancing toward the backyard. “I have to watch her.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “I guess.”

  He followed her out the back door, where Jenny greeted him with a delighted squeal. “Noah! I’ve been practicing the stuff you taught me. Look, I can float.” She demonstrated as well as she could in the shallow water. “And blow bubbles!”

  “Wow,” he said, smiling at her. His eyes were brilliant, his hair dark gold in the sunlight. “You’re like a dolphin in there. I hardly recognized you.”

  She made a squeaky noise and plunged underwater, inspired.

  Noah returned his attention to April, lifting the bag he was carrying. “I brought you something.”

  “Is it lunch?”

  He laughed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “No. Sorry.”

  Tugging off her gardening gloves, she sat down in a plastic lawn chair. He took the other, which looked too insubstantial for his size. Inside the bag there was a purple backpack. April pulled it out.

  “That’s for Jenny. She’s starting kindergarten soon, right?”

  “Right.” April pictured her daughter wearing the backpack, disappearing into a crowd of students. She blinked the image away, disturbed.

  “Can I try it on?” Jenny asked, scrambling out of the pool.

  “If you dry off first.”

  Jenny let April give her a quick rubdown with a bath towel, and Noah helped her put the backpack on, adjusting the shoulder straps for her. “I want to look in the mirror,” she said, her eyes bright.

  April forced a smile. “Why don’t you tell Noah thank you first?”

  “Thanks, Noah!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They both watched her run inside the house. “You don’t like it,” he murmured.

  Her throat closed up. “No, it’s adorable. I’m just a little anxious about her going to school.”

  “Ah,” he said, his expression softening. “She’ll be fine.”

  April brought the second package out of the bag. This one felt heavier. Wrapped in tissue paper was a sleek leather briefcase. It was sturdy and professional-looking, but it also managed to appear stylish and feminine.

  “Do you already have one?”

  “No,” she said, stifling the urge to hug it.

  “You’ll need one for work or classes.”

  She checked the inside liner. “This looks expensive.”

  “Not really. My sister helped me find it. She has good taste.”

  A white card accompanied the briefcase. His elegant scrawl read, I’m sorry. If you don’t accept my apology, please accept this. Love, Noah.

  Love.

  She ventured a glance at him. He was gauging her reaction. Everything depended on this moment—saying yes meant accepting his apology, the gift, maybe even his heart.

  April wasn’t ready to do that.

  He’d walked out on her the other night. He’d said his unit wouldn’t approve of him dating a woman with gang connections. They had some serious issues to discuss before she’d decide to take a chance on him again.

  “What about your job?” she asked, replacing the briefcase.

  “I spoke to one of my bosses. My prospective boss, actually. Detective Santiago. He was fine with it.”

  “And your partner?”

  His eyes darkened. “Forget him. I don’t care what he thinks.”

  Frowning, she looked away. She didn’t want to create conflict between him and Shanley. His workday was already fraught with danger.

  She was also troubled by how quickly he’d changed his mind about their relationship. He expected to waltz back into her life, sweep her off her feet, and make everything better with a romantic gesture.

  It wasn’t that easy.

  He took her hand in his. “I don’t care what anyone thinks, April. I want to be with you. We should probably keep this quiet, at least until the case wraps. But I can’t stay away, not even for a little while.”

  She moistened her lips, hesitant.

  Jenny came barreling out of the house, oblivious to their heartache. “Push me, Noah,” she said, running toward her swing.

  He rose to his feet, giving April a plaintive look.

  She watched him push her daughter higher and higher. Jenny’s face showed the unrestrained joy only children could feel.

  Tears blurred April’s vision.

 
Noah wasn’t perfect, but he was still too good to be true. He was too sincere, too giving, too handsome, too honest. He also had a too-easy way with women. She supposed he’d settle down someday, but she doubted it would be with her.

  She’d rather he moved on now, before she got attached.

  Before Jenny got attached.

  The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Noah continued to push Jenny on the swing, so April went to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Ortiz?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is John Sullivan, the warden at Donovan State Correctional Facility. I have some bad news.”

  Her stomach twisted with unease. “About what?”

  “One of our inmates, Raul Hernandez, passed away last night.”

  April felt the phone slide out of her slack hand. It bounced on the linoleum. She knelt to pick it up.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Wh-what did he die of?”

  The warden cleared his throat. “There are no obvious injuries. We suspect drug usage. Sometimes inmates are able to smuggle in controlled substances.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  “An autopsy is being performed. We’ll let you know the results. Jennifer Ortiz is listed as the recipient of his effects.”

  “That’s my daughter.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve also contacted Eric Hernandez, his next of kin. He’ll be taking care of the funeral arrangements.”

  She nodded mutely.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The platitude seemed incongruous with the situation. Raul’s death—a loss? Feeling numb, she murmured “thank you” and hung up.

  Noah stood in the doorway. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, glancing past him. Jenny was still on her swing. Although she needed help to get going, the little girl could pump her legs and keep swinging for a long while. “That was the warden from Donovan Prison. Raul died.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Of what?”

  “Drugs, they think.”

  He relaxed some, dropping the cop attitude. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, comforting instead of judging. After a brief hesitation, she lifted her hands to his sides, returning the embrace. “The last time I saw him, he’d been up for days on crystal meth. He came to the house at three A.M., banging on the door, demanding to see Jenny. I didn’t let him in.”