Читать книгу Urgent Pursuit - Beverly Long - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Tuesday, 6:15 p.m.

She had been having a pretty good day until her ex-husband had decided to show up at the church. The restaurant had been pleasantly busy, and when she’d left at two to attend Adie’s Thanksgiving Day party at her kindergarten, the sun had been shining and she’d been excited about Chase and Raney’s upcoming wedding. She and Trish were determined that the reception was going to be phenomenal. For what Chase was paying them, he deserved something special.

After the party, she’d driven Adie home and waited another half hour for Keagan to get home from school. It was his first year at Ravesville High, and he detested it when she picked him up in the van. “I’m not a little kid,” he’d say.

He wasn’t. But neither was a fourteen-year-old boy an adult. She was full-time busy trying to balance her natural tendency to keep him close and protected with the reality that she needed to let go, let him have more independence, let him make more decisions, even let him make a few mistakes.

When she’d been that age, she’d been an adult. Out of necessity. What was it Trish used to say? We were pushed out of the nest early, and we had to either fly or crash. They’d flapped their wings hard and managed to stay in the air, taking turns buying groceries, cooking dinner, doing laundry.

They’d had each other, and together, they’d managed to mostly hide a big secret.

She didn’t want anything like that for Keagan. Generally, all she really hoped for was for him to pick up his clothes off the floor and shower regularly.

Today, once he’d got home, they’d had a brief conversation, which mainly consisted of her brightly telling him about her day and asking about his and getting a few grunts in response. Then she’d left him in charge of Adie. In the past, she’d have had her mom come over to watch the kids. They loved having Grandma at the house. But in the past year or so, if she was going to be gone for only an hour or so at a time, Keagan watched Adie so that he could earn some babysitting money to buy a new bike.

She was proud of him for realizing that he needed to work for the money, that she simply wouldn’t be able to hand over a couple hundred dollars. The restaurant was doing well, and she and Trish were able to take small salaries, but by the time she paid rent and all the other assorted bills of raising children, there was little left.

She couldn’t count on Gary. He was now over six months behind in child support. And he had become more and more volatile over the past months. She still had sore ribs that substantiated that today’s incident had not been an isolated event.

But never before had it been a public event, and she was mortified. Bad enough that Chase and Cal Hollister and their wonderful fiancées should witness it, but having Bray be the one to break it up had been almost more than she could be expected to bear.

He looked fabulous. He had his thick brown hair pulled back into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, and the short beard he wore, which was so popular now, made him look super sexy and...well, even a little dangerous.

And when he’d had Gary on his knees, practically begging for relief, it had been easy to see that it wasn’t false advertising. He’d always been a tough guy. Probably why the Marines had been a natural fit. And now that he was a DEA agent, his natural persona had been fine-tuned and he was sleek and dangerous.

Gary wasn’t that tough, but he did play dirty, and she’d tried to warn Bray. Bray would find his car towed for parking too close to a fire hydrant or get a ticket for going thirty-four in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone. Or worse. He’d come out after an evening meal and find his windshield cracked or his tires flat. That was what had happened to the one man Summer had dated postdivorce. Needless to say, the poor guy hadn’t bothered to call again.

And she was powerless to do anything about Gary. Because he knew the secret. He was part of the secret.

At the intersection, she stopped at the four-way sign. To the left was the Wright Here, Wright Now Café. At night, it was under Trish’s careful watch, allowing Summer to be home with the kids. If she went to the café tonight, her twin would instantly sense that something was wrong, and she’d force Summer to blurt out the truth.

No, she’d leave the vases in the van tonight and unload them tomorrow. She wasn’t ready to deal with her reaction to Bray, let alone talk about it to someone else. Plus, she’d probably left Keagan and Adie alone together for long enough. She turned right and drove the mile to her house. It wasn’t until she was pulling into the one-car attached garage that she noticed the car behind her.

For a quick minute, she thought it might be Gary, back for round two. But it wasn’t.

She got out and faced Bray Hollister, who was acting as if he had every right to follow her home and park in her driveway. “What are you doing here?” she said, almost wincing when she heard how bitchy she sounded.

It was just that seeing him again after so many years was too much. She hadn’t had time to prepare, time to put up her defenses. She’d been ready for him to be at the wedding reception, and she’d already planned on how she would handle the encounter. She’d be polite, a little distant, too busy to chat for long.

Now she felt naked and raw from her encounter with Gary, and she wasn’t sure she had the emotional maturity to go up against the only man she’d ever really loved.

“I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

“Oh.” She felt so very small. And mean. “Thank you.”

They stared at each other. She could hear Mitzi barking and glanced over Bray’s shoulder. Across the street, she could see the small white dog through the window. She was on the back of the couch, her nose pressed to the glass.

Bray turned his head to look.

“That’s Trudy Hudder’s house,” Summer said.

“Junior English?” Bray asked.

She nodded. Mrs. Hudder had introduced literature to every student in Ravesville for forty years before retiring a few years earlier.

Adie liked to play with the dog. Would listen to hear Mitzi outside and then sneak out for a quick couple of dog kisses.

Summer whipped around to make sure her children were not at the door or with their own noses pressed up against the window. The blinds were down, thank goodness. Sometimes Keagan forgot to do that when it got dark. She turned back to Bray.

“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I thought we might get a drink or something.”

“I can’t. My children are home alone.”

“You have a coffeepot?”

Bray had always loved coffee, from the time he’d been a teenager. Her, too. They’d been the only sixteen-year-olds who ordered coffee with their pizza. She should lie. Tell him she gave it up years ago. When she married someone else.

“I do,” she said.

“Works for me.” He took a couple of steps toward her, closing the ten-foot gap.

This was such a bad idea. She’d avoided having a conversation with this man for fifteen years. Had been hoping to avoid it for another fifteen. She held up her hand.

He stopped.

Bray would not force his way in. That had never been his way. He had always been a gentleman.

She could give him ten minutes. She owed him much more. She motioned with her hand for him to follow her.

They went into the house through the garage. When they stepped into the kitchen, she could hear the television blaring in the family room. There were dirty dishes on the counter that hadn’t been there when she’d left less than two hours ago. There was also a big splotch of milk on the floor, as if Adie might have been trying to pour a glass and the jug had been too heavy.

She just couldn’t worry about it now.

“I’m home,” she yelled.

“Mama,” Adie said. Feet came thundering around the corner.

Summer leaned down and scooped up her little girl. “Hey, slow down,” she said, holding her tight.

Adie squirmed in her arms. She pointed to Bray. “Who’s that?”

“This is Mr. Hollister,” Summer said.

Bray waved. “Hi, Adie. How about you just call me Bray. That’s a lot easier to say.”

“Bray,” Adie repeated. “Like neigh,” she said, making the sound of a horse.

Bray smiled. “Exactly.”

Adie turned back to her. “You’re late,” she said. “We’re hungry.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll start dinner in just a few minutes,” she said. She let Adie slide down her body. Once the little girl’s feet hit the ground, she was off.

“Mom’s home and there’s a man with her.” Adie’s voice floated back to them.

The volume on the television went down. In came Keagan, his thin shoulders slouched forward, his too-long hair in his eyes.

She reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. He jerked away. He was staring at Bray.

“Thanks for watching Adie,” Summer said. “This is Bray Hollister. We...we were in school together.”

Bray stepped forward, extended his hand. It took Keagan a second, but he stuck his arm out.

“Nice to meet you, Keagan. I understand you like football.”

Keagan didn’t answer. He turned to his mother. “I thought you were going to the church for vases.”

“I...did. Remember, it’s Chase Hollister who is getting married. Well, Bray is Chase’s older brother. He’s home for the wedding.”

“Dad stopped by,” Keagan said.

“When?” she asked quickly.

“Right after you left.”

Thank goodness. She’d hoped he hadn’t come by after the incident at the church. “I saw him. He stopped by the church.”

“He seemed upset about something.”

He had seemed more volatile than usual. A simple conversation about switching the weekend the kids would be at his house had gone south so fast that she still wasn’t sure what had set him off. He hadn’t looked good, either. There had been dark circles under his pale blue eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well for some time.

Maybe trouble at work. Gossip had been swirling recently about a fight between Gary and a newly hired officer named Daniel Stone. Nobody seemed to have the details, and neither Gary nor Daniel was talking about it. Probably at the direction of Chief Poole. He was probably embarrassed that his small department was a topic of conversation.

But she’d officially given up making excuses for Gary’s behavior when she’d signed the divorce paperwork. Never ran him down in front of the kids, but didn’t try to build him up to be father of the year, either. “You don’t need to worry about your dad,” she said. “Did you do your homework?”

He gave her the you’re so stupid look. “We don’t have school until next Monday.”

That was right. Tomorrow was the day before Thanksgiving, and the kids were getting a nice long holiday. “Well, you can watch a little more television. Just keep the volume down,” she suggested.

Keagan looked between her and Bray. “What are you going to be doing?”

The bad mother in her so wanted to tell him that it was none of his business. Since starting high school three months earlier, Keagan had got progressively more distant, rarely volunteering any conversation and definitely not interested in anything Summer was doing.

But she was the adult. Supposedly smarter, more mature. “I’m going to have a little conversation with Mr. Hollister and then I’m going to fix dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she said.

He took the hint and shuffled out of the kitchen. The small space got quiet again. She got busy making a small pot of coffee. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bray grab a paper towel off the roll and wipe up the spilled milk on the floor. He found the garbage under her sink.

“Thanks,” she said. She scooted around the dirty dishes on the counter. She still missed having a dishwasher, but the house had been perfect in so many other ways for the three of them that she hadn’t quibbled over small things. It was in a safe neighborhood and she could afford it. Those were the important things.

When the coffee was done, she poured cups for both her and Bray and carried them over to the kitchen table, where Bray had taken a seat. “Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“Black. Like always,” he said.

Some things never changed, but some things had changed so much there was no going back. She took a sip too soon and burned her tongue. Still, for lack of anything better to do, she took another one. Finally, she set her cup down. “So, how was your flight?” she asked.

He took a sip of his own coffee. “It’s been a long time, Summer. You really want to talk about my travel?”

Hell, no. But everything else was fraught with danger. One wrong step and it could blow up. But yet there were things that needed to be said. She gathered her courage. “I’m not sure there’s much to be gained from going over old ground, but...” She took a breath. “But if I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

He stared at the coffee in his cup. “If you hurt me?” he repeated softly. “If?”

He wasn’t going to let this be easy. She understood. She deserved this. “When,” she corrected. “When I hurt you.”

He looked up. “I guess I’d really just like to know what happened.”

“You left,” she said.

“I enlisted. We had discussed it. You said you would wait.”

She had intended to. And she had wanted to. Then things had happened. But nothing she could tell Bray about. Nothing she could ever tell anyone about. “I met someone,” she said. It was the story she’d stuck to for fifteen years.

“Gary Blake.”

She nodded.

“He’s a real prize,” Bray said, his tone bitter.

Gary hadn’t always been this way. In the beginning, he’d been...fine. Attentive. Hardworking. And she’d thought it would be enough. “Bray, did you ever marry?” she asked tentatively.

“Nope.”

The silence in the room stretched out. Finally, Bray shifted in his chair. “At the church, you said that Gary had never beaten your kids. There was something you didn’t say.”

“What’s that?”

“That he’d never beaten you.”

She was so weary. So damn tired of protecting everybody else’s interests. “He didn’t. And I would not have thought him capable of it. But about two months ago, we got into an argument because he was supposed to pay some fees for Keagan’s sports. But he was really late and the coach had told me that he was going to have to suspend Keagan. Gary got really mad and pushed me down. And...and then he kicked me. My back got pretty bruised up.”

She saw a wave of emotion cross his handsome face. “Kicked you like a stray dog,” he said, his tone bitingly sharp.

She put her hand out. Touched him. His skin was so warm. “It’s over,” she said.

“Did you report it to the police?”

“He is the police.”

“He’s got to have a boss.”

She shrugged. “I made a decision. I did what was best for me and my family.”

“By what happened today, I don’t think he’s turned over a new leaf. The next time he might really hurt you. What are you going to tell your children when you’ve got a broken jaw and a busted eye socket?”

The image made her sick. “That’s not going to happen,” she said.

“Maybe somebody needs to make sure of that,” he said.

She stood up. “Don’t you even think about getting involved, Bray Hollister. You can’t waltz back in here and...and mess things up.”

“Mess things up? Honey, I thought that was your department.”

She would not cry. She would not. “My children are hungry,” she said, her voice flat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fix them dinner.” She walked over to the door that led to the garage, opened it and reached to turn on the garage light.

She heard a sharp bark and saw that Mitzi was outside, peeing in the front yard. Trudy, already in her nightgown, stood on the front porch, staring across the street. Great.

Bray followed her out of the house. She stood to the side and let him walk past.

Trudy waved. “Nice to see you again, Brayden. I wondered if you’d be back for the wedding.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bray said. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Hudder.”

She wondered how he could sound so polite. Her voice would have come out strangled. She felt as if her throat were closing up.

Without a backward glance, Bray got in his car and started it. He backed out of the driveway and sedately drove off.

Fifteen years ago, there’d been screaming tires and a racing engine.

She closed the garage door, went back inside her house and then very carefully let herself slide down the back of the door until she was sitting on the floor.

Then she started to cry.

* * *

BRAY TEXTED CAL, telling him that he wouldn’t be there for dinner. It was the chicken’s way out, he knew, but he simply wasn’t up to the questions that either would be asked or, if everyone decided to give him a pass, would be hanging in the air, hovering, threatening to smother them all.

So, what was it like, seeing Summer after all these years?

Jarring. Exhilarating. Disappointing. Painful. His emotions were all over the place.

She was still beautiful. He’d always loved her red hair. In high school, she’d worn it longer, but now it just touched her shoulders. Her skin was still lovely, freckle-free unlike most redheads. There were a few lines by her pale green eyes that hadn’t been there fifteen years ago, but still, she looked more like twenty-seven than thirty-seven.

Her children were the undisputable proof that the years had truly gone by. Adie was a doll, with her strawberry blonde hair and her big blue eyes. And Keagan, well, he supposed he’d be a good-looking kid if he bothered to get rid of the disdain that poured off his skinny adolescent frame.

Bray appreciated that the kid had hoofed it into the kitchen quickly upon hearing that his mother had brought home a man. That told him something. It didn’t happen often. Not that that mattered. Summer hadn’t said it, but the message had been clear. We’re done. Been done for a long time.

When he’d first heard that Chase and Raney intended to get married in Ravesville, he’d fleetingly wondered if he might run into Summer while he was home. He hadn’t dwelled on the possibility, had merely considered it, decided that it would be no big deal and moved on.

All that proved was that at age thirty-seven, he was living in denial, maybe not all that different from a kid hooked on meth who said he could stop anytime he wanted.

He drove through Ravesville, making a full stop at the end of every block. The same irritating four-way stop signs had been there when he’d been seventeen. Then, he’d done a casual rolling stop, too cool in his old Cutlass convertible to be bothered by rules. And more often than not, Summer had been at his side, her pretty red hair blowing in the wind.

He turned right at the edge of town. Just like old times. On most warm nights, of which there were a lot in Missouri, he and Summer had gone to Rock Pond, the local swimming hole.

They never did a whole lot of swimming there. Instead, he’d pull the old sheet out of his trunk, spread it on the ground, and in the dark of night, he’d make love to Summer.

And afterward, she would cling to him, her sweet young body so firm, yet so soft, and tell him that she loved him and that she would always be his.

As he drove onto the property, he could see that they were still actively working parts of the old quarry, still blasting away. He went around the bend in the narrow road, got close to the section that had been filled with water for many years and killed his lights. It was not a warm night. Not much chance of encountering naked teens doing grown-up things. With little care for the cold, he got out of the car, boosted himself up onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky.

He’d been a half a world away, trying not to get blown up, and the memories of this place, his time with Summer here, had kept him sane.

Everything happened for a reason. That was the mantra that his mother had lived by. Even when her husband had died too young, leaving her with three adolescent boys to raise, she’d said those words. Even when she married Brick Doogan, who hadn’t an ounce of the character that his dad had.

He’d survived four years in the military when others hadn’t. He’d clawed his way back after learning that the girl he’d left behind had married someone else, and he eventually got a college degree on Uncle Sam’s dime and a job in New York. Others had come back too screwed up to do the same. He managed to keep a whole lot of drugs off the streets and a bunch of unknown kids alive without getting a knife in his gut when others bought it. He’d built a very satisfactory life and pushed the old memories to the back of the virtual closet, where they belonged.

But now they were clawing to get out, ripping apart his gut, making him want to howl at the quarter moon.

He slid off the hood, got in and turned his car around. When he got to the end of the long lane, he turned right instead of left. He still wasn’t quite ready to go home. He drove through town. At the edge, he turned around. Drove down the main street again. Killing time.

Not true. He was looking for Gary Blake. He might as well admit the truth.

Somebody needed to teach him a lesson, and right now, it would feel damn good to put his fist through something. It might as well be Blake’s face.

He pulled over and used his smartphone to find Blake’s address. He recognized the street. As he drove the six blocks, he knew he was probably about to do something really stupid.

But sometimes a man just had to do what he needed to do.