Promises to Keep

by Kathryn Shay

  Somebody else laughed.

  Luke tried to throw them off. The grip at his neck tightened and cut off more of his air. His face was smashed into the glass, sending sparks of pain through his skull. Somebody yanked his head back by the hair, and in that instant, he caught a glimpse of Rush Webster’s sneering face in the window. Then his head was whacked again on the glass, which cracked. Something steel, with force behind it, hit him in the ribs—twice, three times. As he slid to the ground, another blow landed on his head.

  The world went black.

  o0o

  Suzanna stared at the clock. Something was wrong. Joe had been gone two hours, and Luke had not returned to Kelsey’s. She shivered, despite the fleece sweat suit she wore. It was aquamarine, and Joe liked the color on her. Stop thinking about that. Think about safety.

  When Joe left, she’d gone around Kelsey’s house and locked the doors, checked the windows, drawn the blinds; but she was still edgy. Joe had said he’d call his police contact on his way to Pickles to have a black-and-white cruise by; she’d seen the headlights intermittently. It made her feel better. Still, she wished Joe or Luke was here.

  At Kelsey’s stove, where Suzanna had stood a hundred times, she fixed hot chocolate. Kelsey had gone to her room to pack. Was the girl worried, too? She’d said almost nothing to Suzanna since the revelation this afternoon.

  Suzanna tried again to reach out to her when Kelsey entered the kitchen, carrying a duffel bag...

  “Can we talk, sweetie?”

  Kelsey had looked at her, at least, for the first time. “It’s too much to take in. I don’t want to discuss it now.”

  “I’ve always been able to help you sort things out.”

  Swallowing hard, Kelsey pushed back her hair. She’d changed into a sweat suit, too—baby pink, making her look young and innocent. “I don’t want to hurt you, Suzanna, and I understand how this went down, but I can’t trust you with my feelings.”

  “Ever, or just now?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I forgot something in my room.” And she left...

  Finished at the stove, Suzanna poured the hot chocolate into a mug, brought it to the table, and sat down. Everything was wrong—except for the most elemental thing. She remembered the intensity of Joe’s lovemaking, and had to smile. Sipping the cocoa, she was back in that bed with him when she heard it. A thump against the house. Startled, she sloshed hot liquid over her hand. She heard it again, then again.

  Webster’s in town. I thought you and that young teacher should be warned.

  Suzanna drew in a breath. Kelsey’s kitchen faced the backyard; one wall had big sliding doors without blinds so she could enjoy the trees with no obstruction. Rising slowly, Suzanna crossed the room and flicked off the lights. The kitchen plunged into darkness. She was concealed now, but she could see out. Was it Webster? Would he break the glass? Was he alone, or was Max or somebody from the city with him?

  She’d just grabbed her cell phone off the counter when she heard, “Suzanna, why are the lights off?”

  “Somebody’s out there,” Suzanna whispered.

  Kelsey stilled.

  Nothing, then, “What can I do?”

  She handed Kelsey the phone. “Call 911 and stay back. I’m going to turn the outside light on. Maybe it will scare him away.”

  She thought about going for a knife, but she’d just read somewhere that knives were the worst self-defense for women because the wielder needed strength. Women victims usually ended up having the knives used on them, instead. So Suzanna grabbed hold of a big cast-iron frying pan Kelsey had left in the sink.

  As she heard Kelsey make the call, she crept down the counter. Crouching when she got to the end, she managed to reach up and turn on the outside light. She heard another thump. This time closer, against the door.

  “Oh, my God,” she said as she saw Luke slump against the glass and slide to the ground.

  o0o

  Somebody was sticking a hot poker in his back, and his head was on fire. Luke surfaced from unconsciousness, only to feel killer pain jetting through him.

  “Son of a bitch.” His words were muffled in the pillow, where his face was buried.

  “Thank God he’s awake.” Luke recognized Joe’s voice. When Luke tried to raise up, the world spun around him, and he gagged.

  Burying his head in the pillows, he tried to stem the nausea. Darkness and immobility helped. He felt a hand on his bare shoulder, soothing him.

  “Luke, are you going to be sick?”

  Opening one eye, he shook his head, then closed it again when the movement plunged him into a miasma of agony. “Oh, God.”

  Joe’s fingers squeezed him, didn’t let go. It felt good. Fatherly. “You’ll feel better soon. The paramedics gave you a shot.”

  “’Medics?”

  “The ambulance was here.”

  It came back to him. The alley behind Pickles. He’d been jumped. Hit with something in the back, over the head.

  Gotcha, city boy.

  He opened an eye again. Joe had pulled a chair to the side of the bed; his face was pale with strain. A muscle throbbed in his jaw.

  “Webster jumped me.” It hurt to say the words, and he moaned with the effort. “Saw his face in the window from behind,” he got out.

  “Joe, you shouldn’t be questioning him now.” Suzanna’s voice came from across the room.

  “It’s ’kay.” He gripped the pillow. “At Pickles.”

  “You were at Pickles when this happened?”

  He heard a gasp. A feminine gasp. Then caught the scent of the sheets. Familiar. Nice and familiar. “Where am I?”

  Joe said dryly, “In Kelsey’s bed.”

  Despite the pain clawing its way through his whole system, Luke grinned. “Wanted to get here. Not like this.” He heard a female groan. “Kel? Come ‘ere.”

  Movement. Joe stood, Kelsey took his chair. Luke raised his hand off the mattress. She clasped it in hers. Her fingers were ice-cold. Even from this angle, with his vision growing fuzzy, he could see her bite her lip and watch him.

  “I’m okay.” He tried to squeeze her hand, but had no strength.

  Her grip tightened. “You’re in pain.”

  Joe stood behind her. “Luke, you need to sleep.”

  Shaking his head again, he tried to talk, but couldn’t remember the words.

  “Sleep, Luke.”

  He looked at Kelsey. Her face blurred. “Stay with me.”

  Holding onto him, she said, “I won’t leave.”

  When he awoke, he felt a little better. His back was only a dull throb, painful but tolerable. “Kel?”

  “I’m here.” She came to the bed and sat down in the chair. Took his hand automatically this time.

  He nosed the pillow. “It smells like you.”

  “Is he awake?” Joe’s voice.

  “Yeah,” Kelsey called out over her shoulder, “just now.” He heard Joe approach the bed. “Joe, help me turn over,” Luke said.

  Kelsey stood and let go of his hand.

  Joe took her place on the chair. “Not right now, cowboy. The paramedics said you should stay on your stomach for a few hours. You’ve got a couple of bruised ribs. They’re painful but the medics said hospitalization was optional.”

  “I feel better.”

  “Modern drugs at their best.” Joe scowled. “Tell me what happened?”

  “Two guys. I saw Webster. Somebody punched me with a chain wrapped around his fist.”

  “Oh, my God” was Kelsey’s stifled outcry.

  He let himself sink into the pillows. Talked with his eyes closed. “I was on my way over here, and they jumped me.”

  “At Pickles?” He could picture Joe shaking his head. “How the hell did you get here?”

  “They took off. I came to, crawled in the car, and drove over.”

  “Jesus Christ. Why didn’t you call me for help?”

  “Ben needed you...those pills.”

  Joe swore under his br
eath.

  “How’s Ben doin’?”

  “Okay. We talked for a few hours, then I followed him home. I spent a while with him and his mother, discussing his depression. She confiscated the pills in their house.”

  Luke said, “Good. I’m glad she knows.”

  “He’s okay for now. We’re going to meet again in a day or two at school. I made him promise he’d call my cell phone if he felt despondent in the meantime.”

  “You do good work.”

  Joe’s tone softened. “How’d you drive over here, kid?”

  “I have no idea. I puked first, then again when I got here.”

  Joe didn’t say anything. Suzanna came up behind him and placed her hands on Joe’s shoulders. “What were you doing in the back of the house?”

  “The cops kept cruisin’ by. I didn’t want to get picked up for bein’ at Kelsey’s again. Especially in the shape I was in. They already think I’m Danny Delinquent.”

  Suzanna shook her head.

  “Sorry if I scared you.”

  “Oh, Luke, that doesn’t matter. I just want you to be well.”

  “I’m tired,” he said, suddenly weary.

  “I’ll bet.” Joe sounded tired, too. “Go back to sleep. When you wake up, we’ll assess the damage and see if you can be moved to Suzanna’s. It’s more secure there.”

  “I can go now.” But his heart wasn’t in the protest.

  “Sleep, hero. We’ll let you rest.”

  “I want Kelsey to stay.” Again his words were slurred.

  Joe mumbled something.

  “I’ll stay.” Kelsey’s voice was thready. Or was it the drugs?

  Luke closed his eyes. He heard Suzanna and Joe leave. Kelsey sat down on the chair. He lay still. In a minute, he felt a hand on his hair, stroking it.

  “Mmm. Feels good.”

  She stilled. “I thought you were asleep.”

  The drugs made his tongue loose. “Why don’t you climb in here with me?”

  “Not on your life.”

  “Now, don’t go sayin’ words you’ll have to eat, darlin’.” He moved, and pain rocketed through him, making him moan again.

  Leaning close, she whispered, “Please, Luke, let’s not get into this now. Go back to sleep.”

  “Promise me you won’t leave.”

  “I promise.”

  He lifted his hand again. After a moment, she took it.

  Comforted, he went to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Three days later, Kelsey strode into Suzanna’s kitchen in a huff. They’d managed to get Luke moved, and were all residing at her house temporarily. “He’s driving me crazy.”

  “He’s been trying to drive you crazy.”

  “Sick men are such wimps.”

  Sipping her coffee, Suzanna smiled. “I don’t have to go in to work. I can help.”

  “No, you’re meeting with Max and his father today.” Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Anyway, he won’t let anybody else help. ‘Kel, get me some water...rub my shoulders...I think I need another blanket...’”

  “He’s not that sick.”

  Kelsey’s face paled. She tugged at the yellow sweater she’d donned with jeans. “His ribs are bruised. And that goose egg on his head and the other black-and-blue marks.” She shivered. “He got hurt, Suzanna.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Suzanna nodded to the tray. Scents of bacon and eggs filled the kitchen. “His food is ready. Joe and I should be back by noon.”

  Joe and I. Kelsey was very aware of the sleeping arrangements for the last three nights, though no one mentioned them. She and Luke slept in the guest wing, in separate rooms connected by a bathroom. Joe stayed in the family wing. Not in Josh’s room, Kelsey was sure. Apparently the dating story, which might have started out as a ruse, had turned into something serious.

  Adjusting the coffee carafe, Kelsey went to pick up the tray from the counter.

  Suzanna grasped her arm. “How about you? Feeling any better?”

  Kelsey stared at Suzanna—dressed for work in a navy blue suit and the opal earrings Kelsey had helped her choose on one of their shopping trips. Since she was sixteen, they’d shopped together, and Kelsey had always remembered those excursions fondly. Sleeping in the same room where she’d stayed when she lived with the Quinns brought back a lot of memories. She’d trusted this woman so much then. And now she didn’t know what she felt.

  “I’m okay.” She was trying to be, anyway. “Look, I don’t want to keep hurting you with my anger, my confusion, but I can’t talk about this yet.”

  “I understand.” When had she ever heard Suzanna’s voice so raw?

  “I’m sorry.” Impulsively, she leaned over, hugged her friend, and whispered, “We’ll work this out, Suzanna.” Then she drew back, scooped up the tray, and made her way upstairs.

  As she reached the doorway of Luke’s room, she heard Luke’s voice. “Is it loaded?”

  “Yes, but the safety’s on.”

  “Let’s hope I don’t need it.”

  “Chances are you won’t. I’ll set the alarm when we leave.”

  They noticed her when she stepped inside. Luke slipped the gun under the sheet. She stared at the hump for a moment, then walked in. “Here’s your breakfast.”

  Luke’s cell phone rang.

  Dressed in a gray suit for work, Joe chuckled as he checked the caller ID. “You have to take it this time. I can’t stall her any longer.”

  Luke rolled his eyes.

  Kelsey tensed. A woman. Of course, he had a woman. Sitting there battered and bare-chested above his taped ribs, his hair mussed, Luke would make any woman in the world want him. Even with his temple swollen, he was...enticing. She took note again of the bullet-size scar on his upper arm and shuddered at what had happened to him, what could happen to him at any time in the job he did. There were many, many reasons not to let herself care about this man.

  Joe turned, gave Kelsey a squeeze on her shoulder, and left. She set the tray down. The phone kept ringing.

  “I’ll leave so you can answer that.”

  Luke grabbed her hand. “Stay.” He picked up his phone. Into the mouthpiece, he said, “Hey, gorgeous.”

  Kelsey stiffened, and he winked at her. The shit. Still, mesmerized by this side of him, she stayed by the bed, her hand in his, as he listened to the caller.

  “Dobrze,” he finally said. “Tak. Yes, I am good. I’m not lying to you. I’m laid up, but it’s not serious. I had a scuffle a couple of days ago. But I’m all right.” He listened, frowned. “Your dreams again? Matka, I swear, I’m fine. As a matter of fact, I got this cute little nurse waiting on me hand and foot.”

  Kelsey tried to leave. He tugged her down to the mattress. His grip was a vise she couldn’t escape, even if she wanted to.

  “All right, put them on. Matka? Kocham Ciebie.” A pause. His brow furrowed. “Yes, Cat, I am...no, I wouldn’t lie to you. A bump on my head...ha-ha, that’s funny, sis. My back, too. Now that hurts.”

  Kelsey sat open-mouthed, listening to his affectionate tone. He was obviously talking to his family.

  “Kocham Ciebie.” He smiled into the phone. “Yes, Nia,” he began again. And a while later, again, “I promise, Paulie.” A frown, not faked. “Is that her in the background? Oh, for Christ’s sake, put her on...Lizzie, I’m all right. Nie, stop crying and I’ll tell you.” His gaze caught Kelsey’s. He shook his head. “Baby, honest, I’m okay. I know Matka had a dream. Yes, I was hurt, but I’m okay. Elizabeita, I mean it, get control.” A few more comments in Polish. Another “Kocham Ciebie.” He clicked off and sank against the propped-up pillows. “They’re exhausting.”

  “Matka as in mother?”

  He nodded.

  “What does Kocham Ciebie mean?”

  He shrugged boyishly. “I love you.”

  “They know what you do, Luke?”

  “Only that I work undercover. No details about what or where. I check in once a week to let them know I’m all right. They f
igured something was wrong when Joe called this time.”

  “They?”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “My beautiful but meddlesome seven younger sisters.” His eyes flashed with affection. This was a man who would care deeply.

  Kelsey fingered the sheets. “Seven sisters?”

  He smiled engagingly. “Big Polish family.”

  “I’ll say.”

  He cocked his head, accenting the bruise on his temple. It was less swollen now, but turning yellowish. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Kel.”

  She stiffened. “I gather that.”

  “Are we ever going to talk about us?”

  “No.”

  With his trademark arrogance, he arched a wheat-colored brow. “You are a difficult woman.”

  “Used to them falling at your feet like your sisters?”

  He laughed, then moaned and grabbed his ribs. “Ohh...”

  “Be careful.” Automatically, she reached out to his chest.

  Snagging her hand when she tried to pull it away, he held it flat against him. His skin was taut over a road map of muscles above the bandages. “My sisters would die if they heard you say they fall at my feet. They’re staunch feminists, every last one of them. I’ve never known what they’ll do—still don’t.”

  She wanted to hear all about his family, about his life. It was such a strong desire, she snatched her hand back and stood to shake it off. Standing, she picked up the tray and placed it on his lap. “Here’s your breakfast. I’m going downstairs.”

  “Fix my coffee for me first, will you, honey? I can’t get the top of the carafe off without jarring my ribs.”

  With a disgusted glare, she poured coffee and added cream and sugar.

  “I have a master’s degree from Columbia University,” he said, as if confessing state secrets.

  Jesus. “Bully for you.”

  “I graduated summa cum laude.”

  “So you’re a smart asshole. Big deal.”

  “I have a photographic memory, and I’m a computer whiz. Butter my toast.”

  Without thinking, she obeyed him. Joe had helped him clean up, and she could smell the soap on him. The scent, combined with a chest sprinkled with dark blond hair, made him the epitome of maleness.

  “I was going to be a lawyer, then changed my mind. Want to know how I got into the Secret Service?”