by Vicki Green
She goes on to tell me Pop has her working in the kitchen, helping out with the food. She makes it a point, a very big point, to tell me she’s sitting down the entire time. I can’t help but laugh out loud. We continue to text back and forth for the better part of an hour until I catch movement from the corner of my eye. I tell her I have to go but will be in touch, and I quickly text my contact at the police station here, telling him to have backup ready and that I’m going to check things out. Pocketing my phone, I get out of the truck and make my way towards the house, staying close to the front porches of the other houses along the way. By the time I get to the side of his house, he’s sitting down on the porch smoking a cigarette. Even though Dean sent me a picture of the guy, it’s hard to identify if it’s him in the dark. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach into my front pocket, not knowing if it’s my backup, Gus, or Irish, when his head turns. It looks like he’s staring right at me.
Irish
I’m sitting on my couch, slumped, with my foot resting on a pillow on my coffee table. Why is my heart beating a mile a minute while we’re texting? It’s so weird. I’m not angry or upset. I’m not thinking about what’s happening between us at all. I’m actually enjoying just talking to him. Okay, texting. It feels like when we were at his place, laying on the couch together or in his bed, just talking. His arm would be wrapped around me, his hand holding mine. It was so relaxing. I was relaxed. For the first time probably in my life, I was calm. Happy. God, I wish I could feel his arm around me right now. Why am I letting his past get to me? People can change for the right reasons, if they want something bad enough. Thing is — would he get tired of me at some point and stray? Would I be enough for him? There are some that do. My dad stayed with Mom until I was eight then left us for another woman. Then I look at Brock’s parents. They’ve always been together from grade school and still love each other. How do you know they will be faithful for sure?
“Trust is a two-way street and you’re still on the curb.”
Mimi’s words ring in my head. He wants me to trust him. How do you start trusting when you’ve never been able to in your life? How do you let go? I’m not sure if I can but if I don’t try, I’ll forever be alone. I’ve always been the strong person in my family, the survivor. It’s so hard for me to let someone else in my life. But God! If I could, he’d be the one I’d try to let in. All I’m thinking about the entire time we’re texting is his smile, the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at me. His magical fingers. Oh, yeah. His muscles and smooth skin that I love to run my fingers over or his huge shoulders that I’ve dug my nails into a couple of times. Damn, I’m horny.
It was weird when he suddenly said he had to go but that he’d be in touch then I remembered he went out of town today. Makes me wonder why. I gasp. Oh, my God! Is he doing that dangerous job of being undercover again? Now my heart is racing for a different reason. Why would he do that when he works construction, a fitness trainer, and apparently a model at times? Or did he go somewhere with that hussy? Doesn’t make sense that he would go somewhere with her and then be texting me for an hour. Confusion overwhelms me. Suddenly, I find myself wanting to know what’s going on with that situation, to the point that it’s driving me crazy. After telling him to back off, I don’t feel like I can ask him. I wonder if Taren knows anything. I find her name in my contacts and call her.
“Hey, Irish. Are you working tonight?” She sounds out of breath. I wonder if she had to run to get her phone.
“Sorry. Did I get you away from something?”
All I hear is panting in my ear so now I’m concerned. “Oh, no! I’ve just been having a little discomfort today and my phone was in the kitchen. I was laying down on the couch.” Discomfort? “Stop. I know you’re thinking the worst.” Guess she does know me well. “So, you don’t have to worry, I went to see my doctor. I’m just having what she called Braxton Hicks Contractions. They’re really harmless. She said it’s because everything is stretching as the baby grows and is really normal. She just told me to take it easy and get some rest.”
“Taren?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad it wasn’t anything bad but that is way too much information.” She giggles. “So, to answer your question, Pop gave me the night off to finish packing. Not like I have a ton to pack but I grabbed some boxes from the bar on the way home. It’ll just be me, packing, and maybe a couple of beers.” She gasps. “Hey! The doctor toned down the dose of my pain meds and said I could. Trust me, I asked.” I’m so not gonna tell her that I have to have surgery. She’d flip out on me. I’ll just tell her later. She sighs heavily into my ear. “Now, I don’t want you helping tomorrow and I know you’ll argue but really, I’ll be fine with Brock and Kane. We’ve got this. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll make some great food for Brock to bring to feed all of you.” Huh?
I look around my small apartment and get confused all over again. “Uh, Taren. You’ve been here. There’s not that much to move and it’ll only be the three of us.”
Silence.
My brows lower and I fill with anxiety. “Taren?”
“Oh, uh…. Well. Kane thought they could use another guy, you know for your heavier furniture, so he asked Tom to come along and help.” What the fuck?
“Taren. What in the hell do you mean? He knows I don’t have that much stuff. What is he doing?” Now I’m seeing red and rolling my eyes. Who in the hell does he think he is? And Tom? Oh, my God! He’s been after me for a couple of years, always asking me out. I’ve told him no so many times I’ve lost count. He’s not bad looking. Blond curly hair. Baby blue eyes. Nice build too. But he just doesn’t do it for me. No matter how I tell him I’m not interested, he keeps asking me out anyway. I don’t know if I should admire him for not wanting to give up or if he’s just really that stupid. He’s worked on Kane’s construction crew for a little longer than he’s been asking me out. Brock says he’s a good guy but yeah, not for me.
“I think Kane’s just trying to be helpful, Taren. So, Tom helps, gets a good lunch from me and you can send him packing as usual.”
Is it not enough that I’m dealing with Caylan, hobbling around on crutches, and trying to pack? Plus, I spent yesterday looking for another job since that tech job didn’t work out. Ugh! “Whatever. Just would have been nice if Kane would have asked me before he asked stalking Tom to help out.”
“Oh, my! Drama much, Bestie?”
“Every freaking day right now,” I reply with as much sarcasm as I can. She giggles. Yes, because my life is so funny right now.
“I’m gonna go lay down some more then I’ll make you all some great eats for tomorrow. Night, sweetie. Love you.”
“Bye.”
I’m so grumpy right now, Tom wouldn’t even want to be around me. No. Scratch that. He’d want to hold me. Ugh!
It only took me a few hours to pack up everything but what I’ll need in the morning. Glad I’d packed up some before tonight. Three beers later, I’m sitting in the bathtub soaking. Problem is – I’ve been thinking about Caylan. What is he doing? Should I be worried, angry, or should I just be happy for him and be on my way? So I gave my V-Card to him. So what? No one said whomever I decided to give it to would be Mr. Right. No one said we’d get married and live happily ever after. No one said how badly this would hurt.
I look over at the counter when I hear my phone vibrate. I stand long enough to grab it then sit back down in my bubbly water. I look up at the ceiling after seeing his name then back down at the text.
Caylan: Checking in on you. How’s the knee?
I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile that appears. I start typing a reply, the whole time anxiousness fills me. Why do I feel like a school girl again when he texts?
Me: It’s good. Just soaking in the tub.
Just like a girl who’s smitten, waiting for the phone to ring, is exactly how I feel. I missed out on all that, growing up. There wasn’t time for me to be just a girl. I had to take care of Jonas an
d Tiff. I didn’t mind. Not really. I had to be there for them when they got hurt and to make sure they got something good to eat. Thing is – ever since I was cut from their lives, I have no idea how they are anymore. Now I’m sad.
Caylan: Good. What are you thinking about so hard?
When I hear my next text come in, a tear drops from my eye into the water as I look down. I hadn’t realized I was crying. I miss them. I miss him. For the first time in such a long time, I had someone who cared about me, wanted to be with me. Ever since this whole mess started, I’ve missed being with him. He makes me feel wanted. Like he needs me to be close. I miss his warmth, his smile. I miss our talks, laying in his bed all wrapped up together. I miss his teasing and sense of humor. I miss him.
Me: You actually.
Silence.
I start biting on my fingernail. Is it too late? Did he really go with her? I feel like I might die inside when the screen lights up and his name appears.
Caylan: Thank fuck.
I choke on a laugh, tears now streaming down my face.
Caylan: Look. I know we have a lot to talk about and I suck at all this typing.
My laugh springs free again, my teeth still nibbling on my fingernail.
Caylan: How about I come pick you up when I get back into town Sunday.
Me: I’d like that.
Caylan: Good. I’ll see you then.
My smile couldn’t be any bigger, my heart beating fast and my adrenaline overflowing. Is this what girls always felt like when they liked someone and they called them? All giddy and shit? I kind of like this feeling. My phone vibrates again, and I look down quickly.
Caylan: Damn, I miss you!
My vision becomes blurry, but my smile broadens.
Me: I miss you, too!
Caylan: Sweet dreams
I bring my phone to my chest, over my heart, and close my eyes. I will now.
Chapter Twelve
Caylan
I set my phone down on the passenger seat and lay my head back against the head rest. Earlier when I went after my man, I figured out it wasn’t him just in time to back away before I was seen. My heart was beating frantically. I thought he was looking at me but in the darkness it was hard to tell. Thank God, he wasn’t. Knowing there is more than him there makes me a little concerned. Next time, when I call backup, I’m telling them to come right away, not knowing how many will be in the house at the time I try to capture him. Get your shit together, Caylan.
I came back to my truck and sat waiting again for what seemed like a lifetime. Once it darkened outside, the street still quiet, I gave in and texted Irish again. I couldn’t help it. I hate not being able to really talk to her, tell her what has happened and that I have no plans of being with Margie. Damn, I know all this has to be a shock to her and she has no reason to trust me, to believe that I only want her. I pray she’ll finally let me in. Let me show her just how much I care for her. She needs to understand that my past doesn’t define me. That it doesn’t mean I’ll ever leave her side or even look at another woman. Why would any man want to if they have her? After our few texts, she left me feeling like maybe, just maybe, she’ll be willing to give me a chance. At least when I get home I’ll get to see her. Damn, I can’t wait! I’ll take her out on a real date. Dinner, somewhere where we can sit and talk. Really talk. I’ll tell her everything about my life, my past, tell her that none of those faceless women meant anything to me. That she is the only one who means something. She’s everything.
I’m getting so sleepy but must stay awake. This is one of the hardest parts of this job. I haven’t worked out in a while either. Told Joey at the gym that I wouldn’t be in until next week because some personal matters that came up. I even emailed my clients to let them know. I feel bad about that. Now I wish I would have brought a thermos of coffee, even though I don’t really drink the stuff much. I need something to stay alert.
My eyes open quickly and I look over at the house. Shit! I must have dozed off. That could have really cost me. Two figures emerge from the house. I watch them walk to a car and get in. After the car pulls out and drives up the street, I grab my phone and send a text to Gus for backup, letting him know that I don’t know how many people are in the house. He replies immediately telling me they’re on the way. Good. I get out of my truck, putting my phone in my pocket, and run across the street, staying low. Creeping across front yards, staying in the shadows, I get closer and closer and pull out my gun from the back waistband of my jeans. I make it to the house, turning around and leaning my back against the peeling siding. Slowly, I move towards the back, hoping to surprise them by going in the back door. As I come up to windows, I duck as light shines from within. When I reach the wooden gate, I cringe as I open it slowly, its hinges creaking with the movement. My eyes shift in the darkness, looking around to make sure I wasn’t heard. Relief fills me as I make my way to the deck stairs but my heart is racing, adrenaline hitting me hard as I get closer. It’s the excitement, the fear of getting the guy you’re after. But this time, it’s also the unknown of what lies ahead.
I climb the few wooden stairs slowly, praying they don’t creak like the gate. I hear music playing inside, the back door is open and only the screen door remains shut. Swiftly I turn around, my back against the house. I try to calm my breathing, the anticipation getting to me, my hands sweaty holding my gun.
“Pick that shit up, you motherfuckers.” A low, deep voice yells out, cutting the sound of the music off.
I peek around the screen door and quickly count three men then move back again. Biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to enter, the screen door opens. One of them takes a step out, his hand reaching up with an unlit cigarette placing it in his mouth. I react quickly and wrap my arm around his neck, my hand covering his mouth. Pulling him to the side, he squirms until I remove my arm and hit him on the back of the head with the butt of my gun. I step back, guiding his lifeless body down to the ground. Shit! That was close. Too close. With the music inside, I hadn’t heard his footsteps. Slipping. Losing it. Too much stress. Too much on my mind. I shake my head, my hand rubbing down my face. Get it together, Caylan. You’ve got this.
I hear the sounds of cars, tires screeching. The guys in the house start scrambling. Either my backup is here or something else is going down. I grip the handle of my gun tightly with both hands, raising my arms and aiming it in front of me. I turn and see the guys clearing off a shit load of drugs from the big rectangular coffee table in front of the couch.
“Go! Go! Go! Now!” One yells.
My eyes scan the room to his voice. It’s him. I open the door and quickly move inside, keeping against the wall. I edge towards the end, keeping my eyes on everyone. One of the guys looks up, directly at me. He drops the drugs in his hand and moves it around to his back. I don’t wait to find out why. I fire, hitting him right between the eyes. He falls and the other guy looks up. “Freeze, Patrick,” I say loud and clear. The drugs he was holding falls from his hands to the table, but my eyes stay on my target. Slowly, I begin to walk out of the small hallway. My gun aimed steadily at his chest. My back is slightly against the wall, still careful that there could be others in the house. “It’s time to go take a little drive. There’s some people very interested in speaking with you.” Sweat beads on my forehead. The room is hot and muggy. I keep both hands on the gun, my index fingers latched around the trigger.
Floorboards creak to my left, and I turn only a little to see what made the noise when shots are fired and my back slams against the wall. Pressure and pain hits me hard in my right side. I look back at Patrick and see his gun raised at me. I fire, hitting his chest point blank. Movement catches my eye and when I turn, I see another man running towards him. He stops and fires and I yell out when I’m hit in my right shoulder. I fire a shot but not sure where it hit as the gun has now become too heavy for me to hold. I slide down the wall just as the front door opens, slamming against the wall behind it. Yelling pursues, men running in w
ith guns raised. The guy who shot me drops his gun to the floor, raising his hands and placing them behind his head. Two guys reach him and push him to the floor. Another man runs over and places his fingers to Patrick’s throat while another one runs over to me.
“Caylan. Stay still.” He lifts his hand and speaks into a walkie talkie. “Man down. I repeat. Man down.” He looks at me, his eyes scanning my injuries. “Two gunshot wounds. Need air lift. STAT!” He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, leaving a white undershirt on. I wince, closing my eyes as he presses it against my side. “Sorry, man. Try to calm down.”
Calm down. I’m fine. What is he talking about? Suddenly, it’s so cold. I look over and see the front door is still open. Did it turn cold outside? I groan when I shift my body, wanting to get more comfortable. He reaches over and presses his hand against my other shoulder, gently.
“Man, I said don’t move.” He turns his head and looks into the other room. “Where in the fuck is that air lift?” I follow his eyes, turning my head. The other guys have that asshole in handcuffs but one of them has his foot against his back, keeping him down. The guy in front of me looks back at me, concern on his face. He tries to smile, but I know it’s fake. “Hey. I’m Gus, by the way. Wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” I look back at the man in front of me.
I wince as I try to smile back. “It’s all good.” My eyes begin to blink rapidly. I’m so cold, but I know the air was warm outside when I came in. “Sorry for killing Patrick.” He shakes his head. Pain hits me hard in my side and I jerk, pain shooting down my leg to my toes. “Only meant to — nick him.” I choke on my words. I’m starting to feel woozy, Gus keeps going in and out of focus.