Donnell Ann Bell

by Donnell Ann Bell

  He reached for her, and she fell into his arms. With one quick thrust he entered her. Beginning a series of slow rhythmic motions, he said, “You gonna tell your brother?”

  She closed her eyes, leaned her head back and gave a throaty laugh. “And miss this? God, no, chico. Not in this lifetime.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Dressed for work, her eyes swollen from last night’s crying jag, Mel removed the address book from the nightstand, turned the page to the “W’s”, and traced her finger to the name Walford.

  She’d stayed in the shower way too long, allowing the hot spray to soothe the stress from her body, when actually her goal had been to avoid her son. Terrified she’d dissolve into tears again if she saw him, she’d contributed to her utility bill.

  She would love to call in sick today. For the most part she wasn’t lying. She was sick. Heartsick. She hadn’t felt this grief-stricken since her mother died.

  Missing work was out of the question, however. With nonstop orders, a December wedding on the books and several holiday parties to fill, she couldn’t desert the man who’d showed such faith in her. She squeezed her eyes closed. Had her promotion to shop manager occurred only last night? What had happened in the hours afterward felt like a lifetime ago.

  She steeled herself for the confrontation at hand and punched in the ten-digit number. Why would Peter and Janice do this to her? And why hadn’t Joe phoned with information on his lawyer? She’d legally adopted Luke, and he was at an age where she thought he had a say. These people couldn’t take him away from her, could they?

  She wanted to be reasonable and not alienate them if possible. They were Luke’s family, but it had been she who’d insisted they spend quality time with their grandson. Surely, they recognized that.

  The connection went through and a small, childish voice answered on the Kansas City, Missouri end. “Hello?”

  Mel caught her breath. Was this Abby’s brother’s little girl? She’d grown up so fast. “Is this the Walford residence?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The child couldn’t be more than three or four and Mel smiled. “Is your grandma home?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  Her breath came out in a whoosh. “May I speak with your grandpa then?”

  “Grandpaaaa!”

  Avoiding a high-pitched squeal loud enough to burst her eardrum, Mel held the phone away from her ear. Well, that answered that question.

  A full minute passed before she heard someone shuffling toward the phone. “Who is it, Tracy girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you know better than to talk to strangers. Hello?”

  “Peter?” Mel clutched the chenille bedspread beneath her. “Hi. It’s Melanie Norris.”

  Silence followed, then, “Melanie? Good gracious, where are you? Is Luke okay?”

  She swallowed hard. “He’s fine. I’m so sorry I worried you. We moved to Colorado Springs.” In the shower, she’d been rehearsing what she would say and the words spewed forth. “With Carl’s passing we needed a change. I needed a job. Luke wanted to play ball at a bigger school. . .” I moved to hide from Drake Maxwell.

  The older man on the opposite end chuckled. “Well, thank goodness. When we learned you sold your house and left no forwarding address, we were a mite concerned. Wait till I tell Janice. Higher strung woman I’ve never known. Colorado Springs, huh? That’s just great. How’s my grandson?”

  Mel pictured the white-haired soybean farmer with skin the consistency of leather. He certainly didn’t sound like someone intent on suing her.

  “He’s fantastic. He loves it here,” Mel said, placing emphasis on the word love. “He’s made new friends and he’s on the varsity basketball team.”

  “Varsity? You’re kidding me. He’s barely out of junior high.”

  Biting back a caustic remark, Mel said, “He’s a sophomore in high school.”

  “He is? Well, I’ll be darned, where does the time go? Now that we know where you are, we’ll get out there real soon.”

  Now that we know where you are. She caught the censure in his words. Nevertheless, the Walfords had made empty promises before. When Luke was small, she and Carl had taken him several times to Kansas City. Naturally, the grandparents had made a big deal over Luke when he got there, but as far as reciprocating, it didn’t happen much.

  Now they wanted custody?

  “Peter?” Mel began. “I’m confused. Last night I was served some papers.”

  “What kind of papers?”

  “A summons. Hold on, let me grab it.”

  On the way to her dresser, she noted a wadded-up piece of paper on the floor next to her tiny trashcan. Making the decision to pick it up later, she withdrew the summons, returned to sit on the bed and read him the caption.

  “I don’t understand.” The tremors in the old man’s voice became more pronounced. “Who would do this to you?”

  Mel nearly dropped the phone. “You, Peter. The summons came from you and Janice. It states you’re suing me for custody.”

  Apparently Peter did lose his grip on the phone then. It clattered loudly as it hit the floor. She waited, picturing him struggling to pick it up. “Melanie,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t know a thing about any of this. You better start at the beginning.”

  As Mel relayed the events of yesterday, including the private eye who’d been following her, Peter’s sighs and “oh, no’s” became audible.

  “Why would you hire a detective?” she asked. “Have I ever given you reason to think I would harm Luke?”

  Peter became strangely quiet. “I suppose Jan got the idea from me. You see, years ago I hired a P.I. to investigate you.”

  Mel’s throat burned from shock and humiliation, and it hurt to swallow. “All these years you’ve known about me?”

  “I’m afraid so. You were raising my daughter’s child, taking her place.”

  “Exactly what do you know?”

  “I know about your time in prison. More importantly, I know about the events that led you there.” Peter’s voice grew shakier. “I know that after your mother’s death, your father’s remarriage upset you.”

  Upset her? Is that what the detective had told him? Mel couldn’t find the words to speak. Eric Daniels had always been a selfish bastard, but it became readily apparent in the final months of her mother’s fight for her life when her father left them alone for days on end.

  On Mel’s seventeenth birthday, she’d confronted him. “She’s terminal, Melanie. Get over it. We’re not the ones who are dying. She’s accepted her fate; it’s time you did, too. Go ahead if you want, but I’m not gonna crawl in the casket beside her.”

  Furious, Mel had drawn her hand back. He’d stayed her by grabbing her wrist. “Don’t do it, kid. I’ll land you on your ass.”

  Hours after her funeral, he’d introduced Mel to a woman young enough to be her sister, and announced she would become Mel’s stepmother. The next day Mel hit the streets.

  “We were talking about Luke.” She set her back teeth, banishing the horrible memory. “Why are you seeking custody?”

  “I’m not,” Peter replied. “I happen to think my grandson’s in excellent hands. As for Janice, there’s something about my wife you don’t know.”

  Moments later, Mel wiped away fresh tears, but they were no longer ones of despair. She was late for work, but it didn’t matter. Her relief mixed with trepidation, she hung up the phone. How many of these bullets was she supposed to dodge before she could just live her life?

  Joe replayed Melanie’s message three times, finally concluding he’d heard it right. “Cancel lawyer, late for work, explain later. Thanks!” Her voice tinged with excitement had unsurprisingly made him feel a thousand times better. Picturing her smiling rather than despondent, he co
uldn’t wait to find out what had led to the change. But even if no crises occurred in the meantime, his day was committed to meetings and interviewing new recruits.

  God. What had transpired in the last two hours? Melanie Norris had more turbulence in her life than the space shuttle. Joe touched the bandage on his forehead and winced. If he planned to go along for the ride, the least he could do was invest in a shoulder harness. He dialed his lawyer and cancelled Mel’s consultation.

  Now to work on the boys. Luke continued in his sullen mood this morning when Joe drove him to school. Odd, because he’d appeared over his anger last night when Joe and Mel left the house.

  Teenagers. He wouldn’t trade places with them for the world. He was still worried about Maxwell, and the Cañon City Police had an unsolved murder on their hands, but so far there was no sighting of the infamous ex-con. Maybe they were worried for nothing, and maybe, just maybe, life would slow to a saner pace.

  His phone rang and his secretary reminded him he was late for a meeting at the El Paso County Criminal Justice Center. Joe grabbed his jacket. A saner pace. What had he been drinking?

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “If we head south on Academy, that might work. If we go north, depending upon the time of day and traffic, we might as well turn ourselves in to the cops,” Drake said to Ramirez as they sat outside Liberty National Bank, freezing their asses off because the gang leader wouldn’t turn on the engine.

  Ramirez, who normally was the talkative one of the bunch, simply nodded and added Drake’s comment to a map he was sketching. Finally, he said, “You’re sure wearing a sappy look, amigo. How come? You drank as much as I did last night. I feel like someone ripped my head off and stuffed it down the john.”

  Drake adjusted his sunglasses and kept watch on their quarry, a medium-sized bank with a good-sized parking lot and easy access and egress. If the security was lax and their getaway route workable, they might have a potential target.

  He didn’t feel good; he felt great. But to let Ramirez know he’d banged his sister right under his passed-out nose would bring pain. Immense pain. Considering that image, Drake urged the smirk from his face and ordered his happy dick to play dead.

  “You see Maria this morning?” Ramirez asked.

  Drake’s pulse quickened, but he kept his head turned toward the bank. Was this some kind of test? Had Ramirez gone down to the laundry room, maybe seen her leaving the basement?

  Drake plotted his lie. “No.”

  Ramirez shook his head. “Damn, I wanted to talk to her before she took off. She’s amazing, don’t you think?”

  What was up with the twenty questions? What did he want Drake to say? He looked sideways at the gang leader, making note of his hands on the wheel. Before, Ramirez’s reputation had been a highly touted rumor. A few nights earlier, though, one of the cons had mouthed off, and Ramirez had whipped out a switchblade before the man could blink. Drake’s own piece was tucked in his sports coat. Should he reach for it? Off Ramirez before the prick ended him?

  Feeling a test coming on, Drake decided to see if he made the grade. “Yeah, she’s sweet. But you made it clear she’s off limits.” Before he broke out in a sweat, which would be a clear giveaway while they sat in this meat locker, he asked, “We gonna sit here and talk about a chick I can’t have, or we gonna case this bank?”

  Ramirez’s eyes narrowed and he studied Drake for what seemed an excessive amount of time. “You’re smart, hombre. Real smart.” He took the keys out of the ignition. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Mel answered the door, surprising Joe by flinging herself into his arms. In front of the boys, she generally met him with a simple hello. Suddenly, though, he remembered the schedule change, and that the kids were at practice. Surrounded by the smell of pine and holiday decorations, and not one to miss an opportunity, Joe tossed the package he’d brought to the couch. Drawing her against him, he kissed her. And as her body molded to his, he received the guarantee she felt as good as she looked.

  Joe was the one to come up for air. “I’m glad to see you, too.” She smiled and his heart took up river dancing. “I guess it’s safe to say you have good news.”

  “Great news.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “At least for me. For the Walfords, not so good. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Got a cold beer?”

  “Coming right up.”

  From the kitchen she called, “How’s your head?”

  “I’ll live.” Joe retrieved the package from the couch and followed her inside. Myriad plants on the counters and windowsill breathed life into the place, while the tangy aroma of barbecue simmering in the crock pot stirred his hunger pangs. Considering the frozen pizza he and Matt would share later on tonight, he envied her time-management skills.

  She took a beer from the fridge and twisted the cap from the bottle. In exchange for the beer, he handed her the gift he’d tucked behind his back.

  “What’s this?”

  “The apology gift I never got to give you.”

  “Joe.” She shook her head and tore through the wrapping of the book he’d purchased on his way home from work. As she read the caption, One Thousand Useless Facts, she met his gaze and laughed. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “I wasn’t sure what genre so I settled for trivia. Start reading. There’ll be a quiz later.”

  “Let’s make it a competition.” She winked. “That is, if that bump on your head didn’t affect your I.Q.”

  “Funny.” Joe nodded to the book. “It’s not a Theresa Alder,” he said, referring to the expensive vase she’d discouraged him from buying last night.

  “It’s better.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll memorize it and try out for Jeopardy. Thank you.”

  Wishing for more than that little peck, Joe took a swig of beer and sat down. “So the Walfords. What happened?”

  She joined him at the table. “I learned this morning they’ve known all along about my background. Shortly after Carl and I married, they had me investigated.”

  Joe paused in drinking his beer. “Really?”

  “Yep. What’s more, Peter Walford approves of me.”

  “Meaning Janice doesn’t?”

  Mel shrugged. “She always ran hot and cold around me. I assumed because of Abby. Today I learned differently.”

  “Go on,” Joe said.

  “Janice is bipolar. And according to Peter, they’ve been having trouble regulating her meds. When she couldn’t get hold of Luke or me, she blew the situation out of proportion.”

  Bipolar. Joe lifted a brow.

  “You know what it is,” she said simply.

  He nodded. He’d arrested people with the mental disorder. An individual with manic tendencies had no sense of propriety, no concept of right and wrong, and often thought he was invincible. Bipolar patients could be treated, but, unfortunately, when a person experienced the highs that went along with the disorder, they resisted taking their medication.

  “Anyway, Peter knew about the private detective and nixed the idea. As for Janice contacting an attorney and filing suit, she forged his signature. Peter told me he would remedy the situation immediately.”

  “And all these years you never guessed?”

  “Like I said, we didn’t see them often. They’d schedule a trip, cancel, invite us out, then renege. It all makes sense now.” Melanie placed her chin in her hand and she sighed. “Now if only the rest of my life would.”

  “I don’t know. I think things are falling into place―your promotion, the boys are doing okay, and then... there’s you and me.”

  “That’s just it. You and me.” She held his stare. “Do you think it’s crazy for me to be attracted to you?”

  His mouth twisted upward. No doubt she was talking about the
ir past, but no woman had ever worded it quite that way. “Gee, thanks.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He did. “I’m no expert on affairs of the heart. I just know I like what’s happening between us. If it had to make sense, I’m not sure people would ever end up together.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Is that what we are? Together?”

  “That’s the way I see things.”

  A determined sheen transfixed her gaze, one Joe’d seen before. Melanie was either a woman interested in lovemaking, or a cadet graduating the academy. Pretty sure she wasn’t the latter, he needed no more encouragement than that. He rose from his chair. Rounding the table, he gathered her in his arms, gratified that when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

  With their bodies pressed tightly together, they stood in the kitchen. And with the timing right, and all indications a go, Joe eased his hand up under her sweater. Finding her warm and malleable to his touch, he whispered, “What do you say we go upstairs?”

  The sighs and slight moans he’d found encouraging died instantly, replaced by a groan. She beat her forehead against his chest as he tightened his arms around her. “Don’t tell me.”

  “Practice ends early tonight.”

  Practice. He’d come to hate that word. Quashing his own teenager-like libido, he cursed the actual two causing his pain and let go. Moving away from her, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why can’t those coaches stick to a schedule? And when did those boys start running our lives? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

  Mel gave him a total look of sympathy and returned to his arms. Her breathy kisses against his collar only sent more agony his way. “It’s only for a few more months. They’ll be driving soon. As for our first time together, you wouldn’t want to rush, would you?”

  “I could live with it.”

  Laughing, she started to pull away. “I’ll just bet you could.”

  “As it stands right now, I’ll be collecting my pension by the time I make love to you.” He held her at arm’s length. “How much time do we have?”