“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Didn’t want to—” She gave her a little shake. “Who’s the mother here, Cory Kay?”
“You,” she admitted in a little voice.
“That’s right. I am. You do not protect me. I protect you. And I can’t do that if you’re keeping the fact you’re in danger from me.” She turned to the detective, resolve written all over her even though Cory knew it must have felt like nightmare déjà vu to have her last remaining family member be a witness relying on the cops to keep her safe. ’Cuz just look at how good that had turned out last time. “What do we do?” she asked.
And even though Cory knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet, even though she understood that she was still in very real danger from Arturo and that her mother was bound to have something to say about the fact she’d been out to paint graffiti on other people’s walls the night all this had begun, she went limp with relief against her mother’s side. Because for the first time in almost two years, she realized something.
She didn’t have to be the strong one in the family. She didn’t have to save her mother’s sensibilities. All she had to be was a kid.
And that was one heck of a—what had Henry called the ride Danny G. offered him? Oh, yeah.
That was one heck of a coolicious load off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
How can everything turn upside down so damn fast?
POPPY HAD BEEN home almost four hours and was talking to Jane on the bedroom phone when the doorbell rang.
“Gotta go,” she said, interrupting her friend in mid-sentence. “Jason’s home and I need to find out what happened at Cory’s after I left.” She’d been anxiously anticipating news practically since the moment he’d tossed her his car keys at the Capelli apartment and told her she might as well go home.
He had been on the phone at the time, waiting to talk to someone about getting protective custody for Cory. After informing her it could be a long process that was bound to take a while, he’d assured her he could catch a ride back to the apartment when he was done.
Dying to find out how everything had transpired after she’d left, she raced to the front door.
“I didn’t realize until I got home that you forgot to take the house key off your chain,” she said with a smile as she yanked it open.
It wasn’t Jase. Instead, a strange man stood there.
A rough-looking, stocky stranger, sporting a couple of thick, black, badly rendered tattoos on his knuckles. She swallowed hard and started easing the door closed again, knowing she didn’t have a prayer of shutting it if his intention was to muscle his way in.
He merely slid his fingers into his jeans pockets, however, and gave her an easy smile. “Hey,” he said. “Jase around?”
He knew Jason? “Um, no.” Oh, crap, considering all the stuff that had been happening lately, should she have told him that? Let him know she was here all alone?
Then she blew out a breath. Dammit, she wasn’t used to regarding people with distrust. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s out on a case.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flashed across his face, then disappeared behind a neutral expression. “Detective Dickwa—um, that is, Murphy, gave me your address.” He thrust out his hand. “I’m Joe. Jase’s brother.”
Shock was a punch to the lungs. Jason had a brother?
Her expression must have been as poleaxed as she felt because Joe grimaced.
“Shit. He didn’t tell you, did he? Well, I s’pose me and the old man and Pops—that’s Jase and me’s grampa—we ain’t exactly the relatives to write home about. We spent more time in Walla Walla or Monroe than we was ever around to take care of Jase when he was growin’ up.”
Holy, holy shitskis. And the surprises just kept piling up. She stepped back, opening the door wider. “I’m hoping he’ll be home soon.” Belatedly, she offered her hand. “I’m Poppy. Would you like to come in?”
“Thanks. That’d be real nice.” But once inside, he refused her offer of a beverage and perched uneasily on her couch.
She studied him. “You and Jason don’t look much alike, do you?” Then, looking at his chin, she smiled. “Well, except for that five-o’clock shadow.”
That made him smile as well and he rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Yeah. All the de Sanges men got this damn beard.” Then he lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence.
She searched for something to say that would put him at ease, then finally had to acknowledge, “I’m not sure what’s acceptable to ask a man who admits to spending more time in jail than out.”
To her delight, it seemed to restore the uncomplicated manner with which he’d started out. “Yeah,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m guessin’ an uptown girl like you ain’t seen many the likes of me.”
Poppy snorted. “Uptown, my butt. I have a friend who’s one of those, but I grew up in a commune.”
“No shit?”
“Well, okay, ‘grew up’ might be stretching it a bit. But I did spend my first five years in one.” It occurred to her that this was a golden opportunity to learn a little something about Jason. Sure, pumping his brother for information wasn’t exactly a heroic pursuit, but she could at least safely ask what Jase had been like as a kid without stepping over that line between curiosity and prying. “So tell me, what was—”
The front door slammed shut and Poppy realized she must not have closed it behind them all the way when she let Joe in. “This time it probably really is Jason,” she told Joe with a grin and leaned back to check, prepared to tell Jase they had company.
Only to have her stomach sink with unspecified dread when she caught sight of his expression. His scowl was a black thundercloud darkening his face as he ripped his tie from under his collar and hurled it across the narrow hallway.
The neckpiece was too lightweight to go very far. The jacket he tossed in its wake did a much more impressive job. It hit the wall and slid to the floor as he turned away to stalk into the living room.
He stopped dead in the archway, staring at his brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Jason!” She surged to her feet, but Joe put a hand on her arm as he, too, stood.
“It’s okay,” he said, then turned his attention to his brother. “I was in the neighborhood and stopped by to see you at your place. Murphy told me you was staying here for a while, so I thought I’d try ta catch ya. Poppy and me’s been getting to know one another.” When Jason’s expression didn’t change, Joe shrugged. “But I can see you got things on your mind, so I’ll get outta your hair. Maybe we can get together another time.”
“Yeah, sure. Maybe.”
Poppy patted Joe’s arm as she walked him to the door. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I wasn’t there for him much when he was comin’ up. I can hardly kick if he ain’t dying to get to know me now. Saying that this time I really mean it that I’ll stay outta jail isn’t stayin’ outta jail—and Jase’s heard the lies before. Anyhow, it was real nice meeting you. You take care, now.” And squaring his shoulders, he let himself out.
Poppy stormed back into the living room. “What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “That’s no way to treat a family memb—” Then the reason she’d been so anxiously awaiting his return, temporarily forgotten by the discovery he had a brother—and a father and grandfather as well, apparently—suddenly came roaring back.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. “What happened at Cory’s?”
He turned furious dark eyes on her. “What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Fucking budget cuts!”
Her hand went to her heart. “They aren’t going to protect her?”
“According to the powers that be, there’s no need to put Cory in a safe house, because there’s no real evidence that anyone is trying to hurt her.”
“That’s crazy! What about the ladder—”
&nb
sp; “Unfortunate accident.”
“The hell it is! But forget that for a moment—how did they explain away someone trying to run her down in a car?”
“Oh, those crazy-ass drivers these days,” he said with an insouciance that was belied by the tension in his shoulders, his big hands balled into fists at his sides. “Pedestrians just aren’t safe in the streets anymore. Oh, and guess what? Freddy got back to me right in the middle of all this. Turns out he wasn’t telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth after all.”
“Arturo beat him up, too?”
“Yeah.”
“Then he can press charges, right? That will give you something to hold that bastard on—” A bleakness in Jason’s eyes stopped her. “What?” she whispered.
“Freddy doesn’t want to get involved.”
“What? You bent over backward to help him!”
“Proving once again that no good deed goes unpunished.” He ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Except…you know what I really think?” He dropped his hand to his side. “I think Freddy might have been involved a lot deeper than as a tagger Arturo was questioning. I think he may have been one of the kids Cory told us came out of the jewelry store after the owner was shot. He was beaten more severely than the other kids. I think he may have made the mistake of telling someone he hadn’t signed up for shooting anybody. But we’ll never know for sure because he won’t admit to anything beyond being beaten for information.”
He jabbed long fingers through his hair and stared down at her, frustration snapping like lightning in his dark eyes. “I know in my gut Arturo’s trying to eliminate the only witness to his crime. But without a license plate number, an eyewitness ID, something, I can’t prove it. And without probable cause, no one will give me the manpower I need to watch Cory around the clock.”
“So that’s it?” she demanded bitterly. “Just…too bad, so sad for Cory?”
“As far as the department is concerned it is. But I put out an APB on Arturo. I have enough to at least bring him in for questioning.” His stubble rasped as he scrubbed the backs of his fingers over his chin and lower lip. “I also called in a couple of favors. I’ve got two patrolmen who will keep the kid’s apartment under surveillance for the next few days. I’m not sure what we’ll do after that, but Iam not failing her the way those Philly cops failed her father. Even if that means I have to hog-tie Cory myself.”
“Cory? Why wouldn’t she do everything possible to help you help her?”
“Because I told her and her mother that she has to stay inside, to keep a low profile, until I can get Arturo off the streets. Apparently the guy doesn’t know where they live at this point, and we need to keep it that way. But little Miss Capelli says that she’ll have to repeat the ninth grade if she misses too much school and that she’ll go crazy, be bored stiff, stuck inside. Bored!” Hegaveher an exasperated look, but he was clearly baffled as well.
Reaching out, Poppy rubbed comforting circles on his forearm. “She’s not quite fifteen, Jason. Kids that age can’t see past Friday night—a week seems like an eternity.”
“Yeah, I get that. Which is why I invited her to see herself in a coffin and her mother left all alone to cry over it. Mrs. Capelli comprehends the concept just fine. She said she’d see to it that Cory stays out of sight, but the woman is holding down two jobs just to make ends meet, so I’m not sure how she intends to do that. But if she can’t, I damn well will. Me and my crew.”
Oh, Lord. Looking at the fire of conviction burning in his eyes, at the steely resolve, she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought this guy was an iceberg. Slapping her hands to his chest, she gave him a shove.
He landed in the chair behind him. “What the—”
Climbing onto his lap, she straddled his thighs, clutched two fistfuls of his shirt on either side of its partially unfastened button placket and pulled him to her as she rocked her mouth over his.
Jason detonated faster than gas fumes meeting a lit Bic. His hands plunging into her hair, he gripped her skull and took immediate I’m-in-charge-here command of the kiss.
She conceded control with a shiver, his dominance arousing her almost beyond bearing. He was all hot lips and hotter tongue as he kissed her, as he told her in blunt language that fueled her fire even further what he was going to do to her. His strong fingers combed through her hair, explored her neck, her back, the curve of her hips, the division of her buttocks. They deftly stripped her of her clothing from the waist down, then touched her, stroked her, gripped her, rubbed.
“Now, now, now,” she chanted as a single talented finger commenced a slow slide up and down the soft, wet slit between her legs, and she rose onto her knees on the chair cushion to fumble between them for his zipper.
A second later his penis sprang free. Wrapping her hand around its base, she positioned herself over it.
Then paused. “If you’ve got a condom, you’d better give it to me quick.”
“Wallet,” he panted, rolling up on one hip to push his pants farther down so he could fish it out. “I’ve been making sure there’s one in it all the time because I can’t seem to keep my hands off—” He sucked in a breath as she rapidly suited him up, then slowly sank down upon him.
His hands slapped down on her butt and splayed wide, gripping her cheeks to hold her tightly against him as his hips hammered upward in short, deep, powerful thrusts.
Poppy tried to hold out, to make it last, but her body wasn’t in an asking-for-permission mode. Not when Jason was hitting all the right spots. Not when she could look into his face and see the fierce concentration as he drew nearer his own climax, as he gritted his teeth and tightened his grasp on her bottom.
Not when he raised her onto her knees with the vigorousness of each new thrust. The sensations, the visuals, brought her—oh, God—so close. And closer yet.
Then he tilted his head back and gazed up at her like carnality incarnate with his slitted, glittering eyes and his lips parted, a hint of upper teeth showing and his tongue pressing his bottom lip.
Her building orgasm ignited with enough pyrotechnics to make the Fourth of July displays at Lake Union and Ivar’s look like pikers in comparison.
Flushed, satiated, boneless with radiating pleasure, it was pretty hard to wish you’d held out.
But that didn’t keep her from being fiercely pleased when Jason immediately growled deep in his throat, his control in smithereens as he shot his hips high one last time and held her to him, groaning long and loud as he ground against her in release.
Seconds later, he sank back into the seat and she collapsed in a mellow heap atop him, her boobs flattening against the hard plane of his chest, her cheek snuggled in the crook of his neck. She was a jellyfish, floating in a warm sea of contentment. “Whoa,” she murmured against his smooth, hot skin.
“No shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest and his hands caressed the backs of her thighs from the crease where they met her butt, down past the backs of her knees to her calves, then all the way to her ankles. He slowly stroked his way back up again. Down once more, then up; down, then up, in a hypnotic rhythm. “Your legs always feel so amazing,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. “Smoother ’n butter.”
She sighed, happy in every fiber of her being. She pressed a soft kiss into the bend where his neck flowed into his shoulder, then rearranged herself to press her ear against his chest to listen to the reassuring beat of his heart. “God, I love you.”
Jase jerked as if the words were an electric prod, then forced himself to go still. As though a brilliant white light had exploded warmth inside his chest, his first knee-jerk reaction was Want that.
But he shoved it away. Locked it in an airtight box. Because he was a de Sanges and, face it, de Sangeses didn’t know shit about love.
He’d like to continue blaming that lack on his family, but he couldn’t. He’d had options over the years; he could have chosen to learn how to develop relationships. A
nd he had, with Murphy and Hohn. But he’d steered clear of anything deeper than a weekend relationship with women…and old habits died hard.
Hell, if they even died at all. Because, face it. It was damn late to reverse his entire lifetime’s point of view.
He almost told Poppy she was wrong, that she didn’t love him. But he shut his mouth because he could just see how that would play out. She’d hand him his balls on a plate. She was a woman whose feelings went strong and deep and he wouldn’t insult her by insisting he knew better than she did what those feelings were. It would be better for them both if she didn’t love him. Hell, if he was a better man, he’d wish that was truly the case.
But he wasn’t. He wasn’t a better man at all. Which was pretty damn dicked up, because where did that leave either of them?
Feeling hollowed out, he reached for her hips to move her off him, but she beat him to the punch. She climbed to her feet and stared down at him as she gathered her panties off the floor and stepped into them.
“It’s not a death sentence, Jason.”
She was flushed and tousled, clad only in her satin thong and a baffled smile, and his heart clenched like a fist. “No, it’s not.” His mind went blank for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t know it’s an honor and a gift—”
“Oh, please,” she interrupted. “Let’s not do the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ routine, okay?”
“It is me, though, Poppy. I don’t know how to love.” Climbing to his feet, he straightened his clothes. “You think I wouldn’t glom onto you if I did? I’d do that so fast your head would spin.” In a blast of clarity he realized he’d been happy here with her.
But that was getting into sloppy-emotions territory, and that was a place he wasn’t prepared to go—never mind talk about. So he said instead, “You’re great. I really like living with you. I dig the meals we’ve shared and, Jesus, the sex is off-the-scale hot.”
Stiffening, she gave him an incredulous look. “That’s what the two of us mean to you—eating together and rolling around under the sheets?”
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