Читать книгу Internal Affairs - Alana Matthews - Страница 10

Lisa thought she must be dreaming.

Or simply mistaken.

But one of the deputies Beatrice had just escorted into the living room looked a lot like …

She swallowed, felt her pulse quicken. “Rafe? Rafe Franco?”

He stopped at the edge of the foyer, nearly frozen in place. He looked a little older—especially in that uniform—no longer the boy she had known in college, but a man. A man who had filled out with muscle and angular edges and broader shoulders. A man who had obviously spent the past few years working out and had the body to prove it.

But it was him, all right. It was Rafe.

A new and improved Rafe.

His eyes went wide at the sight of her, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lisa?”

Lisa’s mind suddenly flooded with images from the past—the pain, the heartbreak she’d felt in those days following their breakup. The sense of loss and confusion and, most of all, fear. Especially when she found out she was…

She stopped short, pulling herself back to the present. She carefully laid Chloe on the sofa and got to her feet, moving to Rafe, who now looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

She felt pretty much the same way.

“My God,” she said, overcome by a kind of surreal numbness. They met in the middle of the room, Rafe pulling her into a hug as Bea and the other deputy looked on in surprise.

Lisa could feel Rafe’s taught muscles pressing against her, and it gave her a small thrill to be back in his arms after all this time. It felt different, yet much the same.

His smell hadn’t changed. The smell of his hair and his skin and the faint remnants of aftershave …

She reluctantly pulled away from him now, holding him at arm’s length, trying to process this unexpected turn of events.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How …?”

“I’ve been living here for a few years now.”

“I know your family’s from St. Louis, but I thought you went to California after college. All that talk about beaches and surfing and …”

“That lasted about two months before I realized I really don’t like sand. So I decided to go into the family business.” He gestured. “I tried to get ahold of you when I came back. I even called your mother, but she had no idea where you’d gone.”

Not surprising, Lisa thought. She and her mother had never gotten along.

She nodded. “It’s a long story. And not worth repeating.”

“When did you move to St. Louis?”

“About a year ago. I moved here with …” She hesitated, not wanting to talk about her marriage and divorce. As if talk of Oliver would spoil this moment. “As I said, it’s a long story.”

Now Rafe’s gaze shifted to the sofa, to Chloe, his eyes clouding with confusion. “She can’t be yours.”

“I’m afraid so,” Lisa said, her heart kicking up a notch. “All thirty pounds of her.”

“How old is she?”

Lisa hesitated. “She was three last month.”

She half expected him to start doing the math, but the significance of the timing seemed to be lost on him.

“I guess you were busy while I was pretending to be a beach bum,” he said. “I’m happy for you, Leese. She’s beautiful.”

Because she looks like you, Lisa thought, suddenly overwhelmed by an intense, gut-wrenching guilt.

But this wasn’t the proper time and place for confessionals. She wasn’t sure if there was a proper time and place. Not over three years and another life later. Not when part of her past had been sprung on her without warning or preparation. This was a delicate situation that needed to be dealt with in private—with tact and sensitivity.

Lisa couldn’t count the number of times she had wanted to pick up the phone and call Rafe. Tell him that long story in detail. But it was too much to handle right now, too much to process.

So she merely nodded in response and said, “Her name is Chloe.”

She saw confusion in Rafe’s eyes, and maybe a hint of disappointment, too. Not because of Chloe, but because she had somehow managed to move on with her life in a much bigger way than either of them could have expected back in college. A life that, despite the circumstances, hadn’t included Rafe.

But before he could speak again, his partner said, “I hate to interrupt this happy reunion, folks, but we are here for a reason.” He looked at Lisa. “Do you have a complaint to make?”

Lisa pulled herself from her thoughts and shook her head. “Calling you was Bea’s idea. I don’t really want to stir up any trouble.”

“Oh, for God sakes,” Bea said. “The creep broke into your house and started manhandling you.”

“What creep?” Rafe asked, looking concerned. “The so-called former man of the house?”

Lisa nodded. “My ex. But it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He has a few boundary issues, is all.”

Rafe frowned. “Tell me about the manhandling part. Did he hurt you?”

Lisa hesitated. “He … he pawed me a little.”

“Pawed you?” Bea cried, turning to Rafe. “He had her up against the wall and was slobbering over her like a Saturday-night sex fiend. And if I’m not mistaken, he had her by the throat at one point. As I told you, if I hadn’t turned my scattergun on him, he’d probably still be here.”

Now Rafe’s partner stepped toward them. The name above his badge read Harris. “Ma’am, we can’t force you to file a complaint, but it sounds to me as if things got pretty nasty here.”

Lisa nodded reluctantly. “Maybe.”

“And if I know anything about human nature,” Harris continued, “this isn’t the last you’ll see of this creep. Especially if there’s a child involved.”

Lisa caught herself glancing at Rafe, but said nothing. Rafe, however, took this as a cue to say, “Has he ever hurt you before?”

“No. That’s why I’m so hesitant to press charges. He can be violent, but he’s never been violent with me. Or Chloe.”

“So what changed?”

Lisa shook her head. “I don’t know. He was drunk, maybe a little stoned. We’ve been separated for nearly a year and the divorce became final three months ago. But I was the one who filed and he still hasn’t accepted it.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “You couldn’t have been together very long.”

“Long enough for me to realize what I’d gotten myself into.”

“Meaning what?”

“As I said, it’s a long story.”

Rafe nodded. “You also said he can be violent. What did you mean by that?”

“The people he sometimes associates with are not exactly the nicest people in the world. I told him I didn’t want them around the house, but he ignored me.”

“That still doesn’t explain the violent part.”

Lisa hesitated again, not sure how much she should say. But she knew that if she didn’t tell them, Beatrice would, so she might as well put it out there.

She slunk to the sofa. “He had a girlfriend while we were together. I only found out about her when she wound up in the hospital. A friend of mine works at County and saw him when they brought her in.”

“For what?”

“A broken jaw. She had to have it wired shut.”

Rafe’s brows went up now. “And you think he did that to her?”

“I know he did. He told me as much when I confronted him. Said she was a loudmouthed little witch who didn’t know when to shut up.” Lisa sighed. “That was the last straw. I filed for divorce less than a week later.”

She remembered the look in Oliver’s eyes when he’d confessed to her. A look that she could only describe as pride. He had been proud of what he’d done to that poor girl. As if he were the king ape who had punished a disobedient subject.

That’s when she realized he was a sociopath.

Filing those divorce papers had been another turning point in Lisa’s life, and the moment she did it, she felt liberated. Yet, before then, she hadn’t even realized she was a prisoner. She had allowed herself to block out the truth simply because Oliver had provided her and Chloe with a home. A family.

And the illusion of happiness.

When she thought about it now, however, maybe Oliver was right. Maybe she was a gold digger.

Rafe said, “I know you, Lisa. You always did try to avoid confrontations. But if this guy is starting to get violent with you, you need to press charges and file for a restraining order. Deputy Harris is right. He will be back.”

“I can handle him,” she said.

Bea snorted. “By letting him rub you up like a $2 tart? Seems to me he was the one doing all the handling.”

Lisa felt her face flush, but said nothing. With Bea, you could always count on the truth, no matter how unflattering it might be.

“I’ll tell you what,” Rafe said, then moved to the sofa and sat next to her. “You don’t have to file charges, but at least give me his name.”

“Why?”

“I’ll go talk to him. Tell him he needs back off.”

“You’d better take my scattergun if you do,” Bea said.

“Trust me, I’ve handled my share of tough guys. Most of the time they’re more talk than action, and I’m pretty sure I can convince him to leave Lisa alone.” He looked at Chloe, who was still fast asleep. “I assume you have custody?”

The question caught Lisa off guard. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “Sole custody.”

“Good. Then it shouldn’t be a problem. What’s your ex-husband’s name?”

“Sloan,” Bea said. “Oliver Sloan.”

And to Lisa’s surprise, Rafe and Deputy Harris exchanged a look that told her they’d heard the name before. The shock on their faces was hard to miss.

“Oliver Sloan?” Harris said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You know him?” she asked.

“Better than I’d like to. There isn’t anyone in law enforcement who doesn’t. Not in St. Louis.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Lisa said. “Oliver’s in real estate. He may have problems and a poor choice of friends, but he’s a glorified salesman. Why would the police care about that?”

“Because of what he sells,” Rafe told her.

Lisa was bewildered. For all his faults, she’d never thought Oliver was involved in anything that would raise the interest of the police—except maybe a bit of real estate hanky-panky that she was convinced he was trying to pull. There was also the incident with his girlfriend, but the woman had never pressed charges.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple,” Rafe said. “Your ex-husband is up to his eyeballs in organized crime.”