Secret surrender, p.15
Secret Surrender, page 15
Maybe he did have his ear close enough to the ground to make good on his claims. With Mr. Holloway gone, Luciano was down a tracker.
“Like I said.” He tapped the spent ash off his cigar and into a small pile in the ashtray. “I don’t hire fresh off the street. Usually my guys come recommended.”
“Sounds like a piss-poor reason to pass up a good hire.” The guy shrugged but stood all the same, leaving doubt over his claim about being desperate for work. “Unlike Mr. Holloway, for the right price, I don’t care about getting my hands dirty.”
So, it was less about work and more about the money to be made? Maybe private investigations didn’t pay so well after all. Either way, the guy turned and marched toward the black glossy door behind him, setting off Luciano’s own desperation. Desperate to find Holloway. Desperate to ensure word of the syndicate’s involvement in the Stucco fuckup didn’t get out. Desperate not to taste the metal at the end of Rudolph Manzinni’s gun.
“Wait.”
Luciano scowled, and the guy spun around.
That this guy was willing to do things Mr. Holloway hadn’t, well, maybe hiring him would be an upgrade. “Fine. You got a job. At least once we know your story checks out.” He jutted his chin toward the door. “On your way out, get my PA to point you to our head of security, Mr.…?”
“Ramos.” The guy pulled at the door handle, ready to leave. “Adrian Ramos.”
Twenty-Six
“So, the usual for you today?”
Dean buried a deep sigh over Sarah’s unaffected gaze directed at him from across the bar, an unaffected gaze she kept just for his visits to her here. Two weeks. Two weeks of watching TV sports and sharing passionate nights together, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending.
Her motivations for holding back made sense. She liked her privacy. Wanted to avoid judgment. Heck, she was fresh out of a major relationship and wasn’t ready for another. Problem was, everything she couldn’t commit to, he’d been waiting for his entire life.
He was more than her rebound. He knew enough about Sarah Overton to see she wasn’t a “rebounding” sort of woman, and that the way she was around him, all those open exchanges and moments of laughter and raw need, went beyond what she’d give just any man.
She liked him. Genuinely liked him. And he sure as hell liked her. Still, he couldn’t ignore the missing pieces. Couldn’t continue the public farce that he felt nothing. That he didn’t want anything more. And then there were all his unspoken words...
A distinct pulling drew inside his belly, maybe less a sensation than a physical warning.
“Yeah, the usual’s fine.” He stared into her beautiful eyes but got nothing back, so he shook his head and frowned down at the bar top, allowing her to get on with her job.
Maybe her reservations were less about anything missing in this relationship, so much as him. He wasn’t a prize catch. He had one friend in the entire world, a mountain of secrets, and a not-so-rosy future. What exactly did he have working for him?
She’s not the only one holding things back, now is she?
I’m a hypocrite.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Ally squeezed up against the bar and onto the stool next to him, her beaming grin lightening his mood some.
“You mean at Harlow’s one and only bar?” He returned the smile and tried not to hate himself when her moonstruck eyes lit up further. “Fancy that, indeed.”
His old self would have been just fine with the pact he had with Sarah. His old self wouldn’t have given a damn about the limitations. But then, his old self wouldn’t have gone missing in action the night he’d met her, either…
Even then, I liked her too much.
Ally patted his hand, her sweet perfume something akin to a freshly opened bag of candy, and in his opinion, no competition for Sarah’s scent of orange blossoms and something more floral, like lilies.
“I appreciated our chat the other week. I’ve been so busy at the store, what with Blaine still in the hospital and all…” Ally pushed her hair from her face, as if to bring attention to her glowing, pale neckline, a simple, thin gold chain sinking into the dip at her throat. “It’s nice seeing you again, Dean.”
Sarah set a bottle of beer before him, not even the gentle curve of her athletic body and her skin-tight jeans enough to distract from her straight stare on Ally. “Why not get Wayne and Jacob to take up the slack?”
“They’re doing their best, but really, I’m not much of a morning person and the longer days are killing me.” Ally’s gaze fluttered over to Dean, her blue eyes glinting in an adoring sort of way.
He focused on Sarah, her hip leaned against the bar and brow raised at him, the slightly jealous expression sparking the smallest sliver of hope.
She eyed Ally again. “I hear Emilia’s dad is in town, and he’s pulled strings to get a fill-in carpenter at Oak Tree for you.”
“As if one Blaine, with his endless list of demands, wasn’t enough?” Ally laughed. “But seriously, the new guy won’t get here for a couple of days yet, and in the meantime, we’re running out of stock and racking up more orders. Who’d have thought Blaine making national news as a crime victim could be good for business?”
“The world works in mysterious ways.” Sarah shrugged.
“Way too true, which brings me to another reason I came in tonight.” Ally patted his hand again, the soft smile she extended denoting appreciation more than affection, as though her feelings for him had mellowed some, though Sarah’s subtle pout said she didn’t see the difference. “I know you’ve been looking for some handy work. I wanted to offer you some part-time money if you’re interested. The work would just involve loading deliveries with Wayne and Jacob, and if you’re up to it, helping the fill-in carpenter with basic tasks until we’re all caught up again.”
Sarah’s gaze flicked once more down to Ally’s hand over his before her stare hit him again, her silent seething something he was willing to draw out since it might make her reevaluate her feelings for him. “Sounds like a great opportunity. You should take it.”
Her flat delivery turned her suggestion into a dare, but she peered back at Ally now, a fraction more at ease. “Are you here to see Dean, or can I get you a drink?”
“Oh, no. I’m here to stay for a bit.” Ally’s tone held an obliviously chipper edge. “Budweiser, please.”
Sarah gave a habitual-type smile and turned away, but not before raising both brows at Dean in a, you’d better watch yourself stare.
“What do yah say?” Ally leaned her shoulder into him, her voice lowered like they shared some kind of intimate secret. “Sheriff Marlin raved about your work at the station, and we’d love the extra help at the shop.”
“I can’t imagine Sheriff Marlin raving about anything.” Dean took a long swig of his beer, not sure how he felt about once again stepping into the shadows of Sarah’s ex, much less accepting his money in the wake of an injury incurred, in part, due to Dean’s negligence. Then again, Ally had used the word help, and no one knew of Dean’s connection to the home invasion. So maybe he could help keep the man’s business afloat while he recovered. “Okay, sure. I could do with some steady work for a while.”
A light squeal squeezed past Ally’s lips, and he twisted the long neck of his beer bottle between his fingers, already anticipating the talk Sarah would have with him. He tread a fine line here, no doubt about that. Somewhere between awakening her true feelings for him, prodding her issues with Ally, and now working for her ex… all this while trying to make a living in a town that wasn’t exactly awash with opportunity.
I’ll find a way to pay the man back someday. Shit. This whole mess just keeps getting bigger.
He couldn’t keep living off odd jobs, that much was clear. At some point, he’d need to come up with a permanent plan. One where he got to stick around and build a life with Sarah. If she would have him.
“This is for you.” Sarah dropped a folded piece of paper in front of him and slid a beer over to Ally.
“What is it?” He turned the paper over and stared across at Sarah, her posture decidedly more relaxed than before.
“The sheriff called and asked me to take a note for you.”
The lifted corners of her mouth said she was lying, but he stared at her anyway, for no other reason than he loved looking at her. The sheriff had no reason to call him, and still, the amber glimmer in her eyes invited him to play along.
He unfolded the note and read it.
“Say you have to make a phone call and come meet me out back.”
He peered up again, slow this time, using his frown to cover his amusement. “I need to use your phone. I left mine at home. This sounds important.”
An instant grin tore across her face, and she flicked a thumb over her shoulder. “Sure, just through the double doors and in the kitchen. Don’t mind Gordon, no matter what he has to say.”
Dean did as instructed and strolled through the kitchen doors. A wave of steamy air hit him, an active stove in one corner of the room, a guy with a tall and solid build standing before that stove, his shaved head twisting toward Dean with an open expression. “Hey, you can’t be back here.”
“Hi, Gordon.” Dean didn’t break stride and headed for the metal door at the back with the EXIT sign above it. “Save your complaints for Sarah. This is her doing.”
The man shook his head and went back to work. Dean stepped outside, the fresh night breeze cooling his skin while he waited for Sarah. The metal door behind him crashed open, and he spun around to Sarah slipping through toward him. “I thought you said you’d do something about Ally?”
Hard tension drew at his chest, and that tension spread to his jaw. What with Sarah’s cheeky smile at the bar and the ruse to meet outside, he’d hoped for an intimate moment together, not for her to chew him out. “I did, and I have.”
She jerked back a little, as though his short reply hurt her, but she simply jutted her chin at the metal door and continued her indifference. “What was that in there, then?”
He glared at her. “Why do you care?”
She frowned, further depicting pain over anger. “You know why I care.”
“Because Ally’s your friend and you made a promise to your brother?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Got it.”
A long silence brought out the sounds of cicadas and rustling grass. She stared at him, her gaze darting about like she tried to fit a multitude of pieces together. “Want to tell me why you’re the one who’s pissed?”
He kept his jaw pressed shut for a moment longer. “I’m not pissed. You’re jealous.”
Again, she didn’t say anything, just blinked at him with her wounded expression turning stony, her foot tapping against the dry gravel.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying not to growl his frustration. “Look. I don’t understand you.”
Her brows dipped and her tapping picked up pace, her stoniness changing to agitation coupled with a terse laugh. “I’m not sure I understand me either.”
Not the clear answer he’d hoped for, but closer to an admission of her true feelings. He stepped in and placed his hands either side of her upper arms. “Fine then, let’s concede that as the newbie in town, I can’t afford to go around making enemies, so you’ll have to trust me when it comes to Ally. If that’s too much of a stretch, then trust your instincts. You know there’s nothing there.”
She gave a heavy sigh, and her shoulders dropped, her gaze dipping to his chin and her sharper edges smoothing out. “Trusting my instincts hasn’t gotten me far.”
“Why?” He offered a weak smile, hoping to ease her doubt somewhat. “Because you didn’t bank on your ex’s long-lost love stumbling into town?”
“Well, when you put it like that—”
“When I put it like that, you’re not to blame for any of this. No one is. Sometimes shit just happens.”
She dropped her attention to the ground and nodded, though not all that convincingly since her lower lip did a tiny wobble. Yet another sign that he got to her, even though she’d never admit as much; her reservations and personal wounds were something he could identify with, and in part, why he’d been drawn to her in the first place.
“Now, don’t get me wrong.” He allowed the fragility in his smile to give way to a full-bodied beam. “Ally’s not bad to look at—”
Sarah snapped her gaze back to him, a breathy laugh soon falling from her as though she grasped his intended humor.
“But…” He moved in closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We’ve talked, and she knows nothing’s going to happen between us.”
“She’s a good kid.”
“She’s a grown woman, and we both know it, but yes, deep down you know you’ve worked yourself up over nothing.”
“It’s not nothing to me.” Her husky tone betrayed that poorly hidden vulnerability again. One that reminded him of her recent heartbreak, and that he’d been too quick to get defensive.
“I know.” He kissed her again, brushing his thumbs over her temples. “I know that.”
“Either way.” She stuffed both hands into her jean pockets, shifting under his hold. “I’m acting irrationally, and that’s unfair to everyone who crosses my path, especially you. I’m sorry.”
“Sarah.” He touched his nose to hers, sinking under the sensation that he could drown in her eyes and never escape. “I simply take your irrationality as a sign of how much you must really like me.”
She laughed and slapped a hand against his chest in a playful gesture. “You better get out of here before we tip anybody off.”
But he liked that he’d been able to change her mood, so he didn’t let her go right away. Would it be so bad if someone did see them together? No. So, he reveled in the closeness for a while, despite the air of sadness wafting from her.
Maybe it would be bad if someone saw… if they know who I really am…
He stepped back, even as he acknowledged that in her presence, he was someone else.
Someone worth her affection.
Someone without a dubious past.
Someone worth being seen with in public…
For all my fakery alone, I deserve her mistrust.
The worst part? No doubt she held her own guilt over all the hiding. She blamed herself for holding back, for being the height of his current frustrations, while unknowingly being his salvation too.
But he could pretend with her. Pretend he was normal. Pretend everything was well and good, and that it was safe to have dreams and allow someone to fall for him. Pretend that it was only her issues keeping them apart…
What an asshole!
He made room for her to get to the door, signaling that he would leave too, though to the parking lot so Gordon wouldn’t see them enter Maynard’s together. Maybe this relationship should remain a secret. Maybe it didn’t deserve to continue at all. He had no place wanting more. Still, he wanted—and just once—he wished that what he wanted and what he got could be one and the same thing.
Twenty-Seven
“Well, don’t you look like a glowing ball of sunshine?” Blaine stood beside his hospital bed, his pride in his ability to stand evident in his smile, even if his posture wasn’t completely straight.
“If you like, I can always turn right around and leave.” She threw him a pinched glare, but held a smile and strode deeper into his overly white room, anyway.
“And I could threaten to chase after you.” His sea green-eyes sparkled. “But we both know you’d kick my ass. That said, I was about to go for a walk in the courtyard. Wanna come with?”
“It’s good to see you’re making progress.” She doubled back but waited at his door for him to lead the way down the quiet hall, chuckling at his blue hospital gown, which thankfully had a closed back. “Even if I’ve seen tortoises move faster.”
He laughed, not grimacing from any pain unlike last time, yet another sign he was improving. “Hey, three weeks ago I thought I’d be dead, I’ll take my tortoise pace in a heartbeat.”
She crossed the short corridor with him, then held a glass door open at the end that led to a red-brick path and the tiny courtyard, a heaviness settling in her chest. “Everyone in town will be glad to hear you’re doing better.”
Blaine shuffled past and across the linoleum floor, his gaze turned downward and his smile dropped by the smallest margin. His knuckles atop the walking frame were white, the veins on his hands bulging. “They should be more concerned about Emilia. She obsessively uses up every second of her hospital visiting hours. It’s a miracle I convinced her I’d survive while you visited today. She blames herself for Anthony returning. For me getting hurt. There’s no convincing her none of this is her fault.”
Sarah skimmed her gaze around the simple garden ahead, the manicured yellow roses, the lush green grass patches, and wooden benches that offered a hopeful view despite the subject matter. As usual, she came up dry of any supportive words, so she offered him a gentle pat on the back. Silent reassurance would have to be enough.
Blaine paused and drew a long breath, the task of walking taking its toll, even as his focus landed on her, pinched and a little gray. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
Her heart did a slow, dread-heavy beat. Blaine was still on the mend, and she wouldn’t bother him with her inane problems. But even on an off day, he read her like a book. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
He strolled toward a bench, and then groaned as he sat. “How long have we known each other? The last time you came here you were off your game too, but I said nothing because I figured you were in shock like everyone else over what happened to me. But you’re even more rigid and cagey today.”
She shrugged and nudged a stray leaf on the ground with her foot, choosing to remain standing. “A lot’s changed, that’s all. I’m just trying to adjust.”
He lifted his gaze to the bright afternoon sun and squinted against its glare. “And these changes aren’t all because of me, are they?”
