Читать книгу Nine Lives - Sharon Sala - Страница 5

Two

It was almost dark by the time Wilson left the hospital, satisfied that Wanelle was going to be all right. The fire at the apartment building had left Wanelle homeless, but her cousin, Shirley, had come to collect her. Shirley had a good heart and an extra bed, which left her better off than most. Wilson had given Wanelle a couple of hundred dollars to go toward replacing her lost clothing, which was all the cash he had on him.

“You’re a doll,” she said, as she pocketed the cash. “Any time you want a freebie, just give me a call.”

Wilson stifled a grin as he gave her a hug.

“You are, without doubt, the most memorable birthday present I’ve ever had.” He brushed a finger along the side of her jaw, where a noticeable bruise was forming. “Sorry about having to whack you like that.”

“No biggie,” she said. “It was my fault for freaking out.”

“You had a reason to freak,” he said. “So…take care of yourself, okay?”

She smirked and rolled her eyes at Shirley.

“He’s the best, I tell you. The best.”

“See you around,” Wilson said, and watched as they drove away.

Then he got into his car. For a few moments he just sat, thinking back over the events of the day. He’d been watching the evening news in the lobby of the E. R. while waiting for Wanelle to be released and had seen footage on television. It was daunting to learn that seven people had died in the fire they had escaped. Were it not for the grace of God, they could have been included in that statistic. Even now, as a cough bubbled up from deep in his chest, he was reminded of how close they’d come and wondered how Cat Dupree had fared.

Lights from a passing ambulance swept across his line of vision and broke his musing. His belly growled from hunger as a cold gust of wind rocked the truck. He shivered slightly and quickly started the engine. As soon the motor warmed up, he put the truck in gear and drove to work.

He put in several hours at his office, then sent his receptionist home when the weather began to worsen. He set the phones in the office so that they would ring at his apartment, then locked up and went home.

Due to the freezing rain, traffic was heavier than normal. There appeared to be some kind of pile-up on the freeway he normally drove, so he took the closest exit and wound through a small business district before driving into a residential area.

He couldn’t help but notice the colorful Christmas lights decorating the outsides of the homes. He tried to imagine what it would be like to drive up one of the driveways and be met at the front door by a loving family. There would be kids—maybe three, two boys and a girl—and a wife who, after fifteen years of marriage, still rocked his world.

In the middle of the fantasy, a car sped out of a side street and cut in front of him without caution. If it hadn’t been for Wilson’s quick reflexes, he would have broadsided the other vehicle.

“Dumb ass,” Wilson muttered, as he watched the man drive away. He had everything Wilson wanted and didn’t have the good sense to take care of it by even looking where he was going.

A muscle ticked at the edge of Wilson’s mouth as he shifted mental gears. Obviously he didn’t want that kind of life bad enough, either, or he would have done something in the last ten years toward making it happen. His parents would be ecstatic if he ever committed himself to a woman. Of all their children, he was the only hold-out. His brothers and sisters had married years ago, making him an uncle many times over.

A short while later, he drove into the parking lot of his apartment complex. His steps were dragging as he entered the building. When he got inside his apartment, he dropped his smokey clothes in the floor of the utility room, turned up the thermostat and headed for the shower. As soon as he was clean, he dressed in an old pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then moved to the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten all day, except for a Coke and a package of cheese crackers he’d gotten from vending machines in the hospital, and he was hungry for real food.

The contents of his refrigerator were slim, but there was enough to make a decent-sized cheese omelet—one of his favorite quick meals. He finished it off in front of the TV, watching an old Chuck Norris movie and washing it down with the last of the Coke.

Remembering the pile of dirty clothes he’d left in the utility room, he went to put them in the washer. As he was going through the pockets, he found the cat charm again. Fingering it lightly, he set it on a shelf, poured in the soap and started the machine.

The phone rang as he was going to the bedroom. He could tell by the ring that it was a call being forwarded from the office. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been called back to some jail to bond someone out, and he frowned as he answered.

“McKay Bail Bonds.”

“Um…hey, Wilson, old buddy. It’s me, Shooter.”

Wilson’s frown deepened. “Well, old buddy, you better not be in jail again,’ cause if you are, then you’ve just wasted your free call.”

Shooter Green shifted to whining.

“Aw…now, Wilson…it ain’t like you think. They’ve got me on a bad rap and—”

“I’m serious,” Wilson said. “You and I aren’t doing any more business. The last two times I bonded you out, you let me down. The first, you were a no-show. If your public defender hadn’t sweet-talked the judge on your behalf and gotten you a second appearance date, you would have cost me my money. Then, the second time I bond you out of jail, I have to go after your ass…remember?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts, Shooter. Sleep tight, and don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Shooter was still begging as Wilson hung up the phone.

Cat slept fitfully through the night, reliving the trip down the stairs with Brownlee over her shoulder so many times that her legs were actually aching when she woke up. She rolled over on her side and opened one eye just enough to see that it was after ten in the morning. With a sigh, she sat up in bed and ran her fingers through her hair. The urge to lie back down and sleep away the day was strong, but there were a couple of things she’d been planning to do, and one of them was taking her best friend, Marsha, out to lunch.

There weren’t many people that Cat Dupree called friend, but Marsha Benton was one of them. She and Marsha had been fostered to the same family just before their seventeenth birthdays and had become fast friends. Their bond had lasted, even after they’d been processed out of the system.

Cat and Marsha often laughed at how different their lives had become once they’d been on their own. For the past eight years, Marsha had been a private secretary for Mark Presley, CEO of a company with worldwide distribution rights for farm implements, while Cat chased down bad guys with a taser and a gun.

Marsha was a little over five feet tall.

Cat was almost six feet in height.

Marsha was a curvy redhead who loved to eat.

Cat often forgot to eat, which accounted for her lanky build.

But they spoke the same language, laughed at the same jokes, and were the only family each other had.

Cat stretched languidly and then reached for the phone, punching in the number for Marsha’s office from memory. She was already smiling to herself as she waited for Marsha to answer.

“Presley Implements.”

“Hey, Mimi, it’s me, Cat. Are we still on for lunch today?”

There was a moment of silence, something Cat hadn’t expected.

“Hey, girlfriend…are you there?”

Cat heard what sounded like a stifled sob; then Marsha answered.

“Yes, I’m here, and lunch sounds great. Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Um…how about Billy Bob’s?”

“Good,” Marsha said. “One o’clock?”

“Yeah,” Cat said, and then added, “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely,” Marsha said. “See you later. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay,” Cat said, and disconnected, but she was still frowning as she got out of bed.

She knew Marsha well enough to know that something was wrong. She’d heard it in her friend’s voice. Then she shrugged off her concern, knowing that once they got together, Marsha would talk. She never could keep secrets.

Cat got some clean underwear and headed for the bathroom. Even though she’d washed her hair last night before going to bed, she imagined it still smelled of smoke.

A short while later she was blow drying her hair and trying not to think about the missing cat charm. The loss was something she wasn’t going to get over any time soon, but dwelling on it wasn’t going to bring it back. Sick at heart, she hoped seeing Marsha would help. Maybe a reminder of what they’d overcome in their young lives would put the loss of a simple charm into perspective.

As she was going through her closet for something to wear, she abandoned what would have been a normal choice. Marsha would be dressed to the nines, so the least Cat could do was leave her gun at home and wear something besides leather. A cold blast of wind rattled the bedroom windows, which reminded her that whatever she chose, it needed to be warm.

A short while later she was dressed, unaware of how her choices had softened her appearance. Instead of denim and leather, she wore a soft white cable-knit sweater and a pair of brown wool slacks. Her brown alligator shoes looked great, although they were a pair she’d owned for several years. Today she chose them for comfort, rather than style. She pulled her hair away from the sides of her face and fastened it at the nape of her neck with a tortoise shell clip.

She glanced down at her fingernails and frowned. The nails were short and unpolished, with one broken to the quick thanks to Nelson Brownlee, but they were clean. In her line of work, polished fingernails were the last thing she was concerned with.

After swiping her lips with a pale, glossy lipstick, she flipped off the light as she exited the dressing area, grabbed her coat and headed out the door.

Considering the number of holiday shoppers out on the streets, the drive to Billy Bob’s went smoothly. When Cat pulled into the parking lot, she quickly spotted Marsha’s silver Lexus with her personalized license plate, ALLMINE. It never failed to make Cat smile.

As she got out, she caught a whiff of the faint scent of burning hickory, a tempting hint of meat grilling inside. She was already pulling off her coat as she entered the restaurant and threw it over her arm as she scanned the room for her friend. When she saw Marsha stand up and wave, she began weaving her way between the tables.

“Hey, you,” Cat said.

Marsha kissed Cat and gave her a brief hug as Cat draped her coat over an empty chair.

The tension in Marsha’s body was unusual. Warning bells went off as Cat returned Marsha’s embrace.

“Sit, sit,” Marsha said, and waved toward a free chair. “I’ve already ordered some chips and queso. They’ll be here shortly, and that margarita is yours.”

“Yum,” Cat said as she sat, then took a quick sip of her drink.

Marsha’s smile was genuine. Impulsively, she reached out for Cat’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

“You look great, as always. So what’s new with you?”

Wilson McKay’s face immediately came to mind, but Cat ignored it. They hadn’t even had what would amount to a real conversation, so there was nothing to report.

“Nothing,” Cat said, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Spit it out, Mimi, and don’t lie. I’ll know if you do.”

Marsha blinked, then looked away as tears immediately pooled. The sound of her old nickname from her best friend’s lips was a painful reminder of a happier time.

“You are too smart for your own good,” she mumbled.

Cat felt sad. Seeing Marsha in such distress broke her heart.

“And you’re too gentle-hearted for yours. Who hurt you? Tell me and I’ll make him sorry.”

Marsha tried to smile through the tears. “Why would you assume it’s a man?”

Cat rolled her eyes. “Because they’re always trouble. Am I right?”

Marsha sighed, then nodded.

“Who is he?” Cat asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you can’t keep fighting my battles.”

Cat frowned. “I can and I will. Come on, Mimi… I don’t like to see you this way.”

Marsha shrugged. “It’s my own fault. I knew better, but I did it anyway.”

Cat knew there was more. Suddenly it dawned.

“He’s married, isn’t he?”

Marsha hesitated, then dropped her head without answering.

It was answer enough for Cat, although Marsha stayed silent.

Cat stared at her for a few moments, waiting for details. When they weren’t forthcoming, she began to think back over the past few weeks to the times when Marsha couldn’t meet her for dinner because she had to work late. As she did, suspicion grew.

“Is it your boss?”

Marsha didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Cat could see the truth in her eyes.

“It is, isn’t it? It’s that damned snake Mark Presley.”

Marsha covered her face with her hands.

Cat stifled another curse and lowered her voice even more.

“Mimi… I’m sorry. Talk to me, honey.”

Marsha dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, trying not to smear her makeup as she considered what to say, even though she knew she could never keep secrets from Cat.

“Oh, Cat, just let it—”

“No. I’m not letting it go. Talk. Now.”

Marsha leaned back, took a sip of her iced tea, then shoved it aside. “He fed me a big line that I fell for. There’s nothing else I can say.”

“Did the line have anything to do with, ‘I’m getting a divorce and I love you madly’?”

Marsha’s expression crumpled.

“Pretty much.”

Cat slumped. She couldn’t believe Marsha had fallen for that. Then it occurred to her that there was a reason why Marsha would even give that line consideration.

“Oh, Mimi…you were already in love with him, weren’t you?”

Marsha’s chin trembled. “Yes.”

“The pig. So he got in your pants. How’s he treating you now?”

“Like I’ve stolen the company secrets and he’s looking for a reason to fire me.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed angrily. “He can’t do that.”

“Well, yes, he can,” Marsha countered. “He owns the company, so he can do whatever he pleases.”

Cat’s instincts to protect were on point.

“Let me talk to him,” she said. “I’ll make sure he sees the light.”

Marsha’s eyes widened in panic. “No. No. No way are you getting in the middle of this. He didn’t hold a knife to my throat. I slept with him, and it’s too late to change what—”

Suddenly Marsha stopped talking, and the look on her face was no longer just sad. She looked scared.

Cat’s frown deepened. “There’s more to this mess than you’ve told me, isn’t there?”

Marsha nodded nervously, as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Cat grabbed Marsha’s wrist, her fingers curling into the flesh.

“Mimi…it’s me. We don’t lie to each other. Ever. Remember?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Cat reeled backwards as if she’d been slapped.

“Oh man. Does he know?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. He’s pissed, right?”

“He wants me to get rid of it.”

“What did you tell him?” Cat asked.

Marsha rolled her eyes. “What do you think? You know how we grew up. I told him no.”

“And that made him mad?”

Marsha tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

“That’s an understatement. He thinks I’m trying to work some kind of scam. I tried to assure him that I didn’t want anything from him except my job, which I already had, but he doesn’t believe me. And…he’s been making threats.”

Now Cat was really on alert. “What kind of threats?”

“The kind that leave you six feet under,” Marsha said, then pressed her fingers against her lips, as if she couldn’t believe those words had come out of her mouth.

“That does it,” Cat said, and would have gotten up, but Marsha stopped her.

“You can’t get involved in this,” Marsha said. “You don’t know what he’s like. Please. As a favor to me. Stay out of it.”

Cat’s face was flushed with anger as she tried to make Marsha see sense.

“But, Mimi, you—”

Marsha’s expression darkened. Even though there were still tears in her eyes, her chin jutted stubbornly.

“I’m telling you…stay out of it!”

Cat straightened, staring at her friend in disbelief.

Marsha persisted, unwilling to quit until Cat had given her promise.

“I’m waiting,” Marsha said.

Finally Cat could do nothing but agree.

“All right,” she said reluctantly. “But I’m telling you, if he so much as puts a bruise on your body, he’s mine.”

Marsha hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Deal.”

“Deal,” Cat echoed, then grabbed her margarita and downed it like medicine. “Crap,” she muttered, as she sat the empty glass back on the table.

Marsha laughed through her pain, and for a moment Cat laughed with her.

But later, as their food came and they ate, talking about everything except the problem at hand, Cat felt a sense of impending doom. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but none of it could be good.

The next morning dawned cold, gray and wet, adding a wind chill factor to the miserable day. Cat hadn’t slept well, and what sleep she’d had, had been filled with nightmares about Marsha. She winced as her bare feet hit the cold floor, and stepped into slippers as she went about her morning routine. As she moved through the hall, she turned up the thermostat. She strode into the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker, waiting impatiently for the first cup of coffee to brew.

She downed the caffeine, hoping it would settle her rumbling stomach, and checked her machine for messages. There were none. In a way, she was glad. Her bank account was healthy enough to get her through a dry spell. Christmas was only a couple of weeks away, and she had yet to go shopping for gifts. That was what she needed to do, and it wouldn’t take long. A good bottle of whiskey for Art and a gift for Mimi. After that, she might drop by the gym. It had been more than a week since she’d had time to work out, and after the conversation she’d had with Mimi about Mark Presley, she felt the need to set something on fire. It might as well be her muscles.

Wilson was on his way to the gym when he began to hear sirens. He pulled over to the side of the street just in time to let a trio of police cars go racing past. The thought that someone was in trouble crossed his mind, followed by selfish gratitude that it wasn’t him.

As traffic resumed, he drove to the next stoplight, then turned right. He had a membership at Body Builders, Inc., but his visits were sporadic. Most of the time he was either on a job or home trying to catch up on lost sleep. When he’d awakened to the cold, overcast day, a hard workout had seemed like a good way to pass some time.

Then, less than four blocks away from his destination, he ran into a roadblock and recognized the three police cars that had passed him earlier. Besides those, there were close to a dozen more. Spying a cop he knew, he rolled down the window.

“Hey, Daughtry, what’s up?”

The officer turned, recognized him and moved closer. “Bank robbery with hostages involved,” he said.

“Which bank?” Wilson asked.

“First Federal Credit Union,” Daughtry said.

Wilson frowned. That was right across from his gym, which meant his workout wasn’t happening—at least not there.

“Good luck, buddy, and watch your back,” Wilson said, and waved goodbye as he turned right at the blocked off intersection. There were a couple of other gyms in the area that didn’t require memberships to work out. He would try one of them.

A short while later he was at Bab’s Abs, stripped down to his gym clothes and on a stationary bike, working up a good sweat, when Cat Dupree walked in. She was wearing a pair of bright red sweat pants and some well-worn tennis shoes. When she shed her coat and began twisting her hair up into a ponytail, her breasts tightened the fabric of her old gray T-shirt.

Wilson was a man who believed that lives were dictated by fate, and he was giving his good luck a mental thank-you when she strode past him without looking.

He started to speak, but the jut of her chin seemed more like a warning than a welcome, so he remained silent as she walked by. She moved to a Stair Master and began to warm up before stepping on board. Within seconds, she was in motion.

It took Wilson a few seconds to realize he was staring, so he shook off his moment of lust and resumed his workout. He pedaled for another fifteen minutes without looking up, telling himself that if it was meant to be, she would see him and speak. If it wasn’t, then he would keep to himself. He didn’t understand what he was doing, playing mental games with himself about her, but there was a part of him that believed no matter what he asked, she would say no. And, being a man who didn’t like to be thwarted in any way, he was thinking that the best way not to be turned down was not to ask in the first place.

When he finished his bike time and looked up, he saw that she’d moved on to free weights and was impressed by the amount she was lifting. This time he watched with guilt, admiring her form and strength.

About the time he’d decided to call it a morning, he realized she was in trouble. She was lifting without a spotter and had pushed herself about two lifts too far. On her last lift, she’d barely gotten the bar up and locked her elbows, but it was obvious that she didn’t have enough strength to lower the weights safely to the rests. He knew that when she let go, she was going to drop the bar right across her chest.

Six long strides from one side of the gym to the other and he had the bar in hand and was easing it onto the rests. Once it was safely in place, he looked down. She was still flat on her back on the weight bench, looking up at him.

Cat knew she’d pushed herself too far, too fast, but she’d taken her worry and anger at Mark Presley out on the weights. By the time she realized she was in trouble, she was too focused on not killing herself to shout for help. Then, when the weights were miraculously taken from her hands, she groaned with relief. When she looked up to see who’d come to her aid, she was looking at him upside down. It wasn’t until she sat up and turned around that she realized who’d come to her rescue.

“You,” Cat muttered.

Wilson’s face was expressionless. “You’re welcome,” he said briefly, and then turned his back on her and walked away.

For whatever reason, Wilson had to face the fact that he did not ring her bells. It was something of a disappointment to accept that, since she was the first woman since he’d turned sixteen who was obviously not interested in him.

The moment he walked away, Cat realized how rude she’d been. She dismounted the weight bench and hurried after him, catching him midway across the floor.

“Hey! Wait! I didn’t mean to take my mood out on you. Thank you for saving my butt back there.”

Wilson felt a surge of pleasure. So she wasn’t as cold and standoffish as she appeared.

“Yeah…sure, and you’re welcome.”

Cat eyed his cropped haircut as well as the tiny gold hoop in his ear and told herself he wasn’t all that. But she was lying.

“Thanks again.”

“Next time, take it easy on the weights.”

“Definitely.”

Then Wilson remembered the charm.

“Say…you didn’t happen to lose something the day of the fire, did you?”

Cat’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, actually I did.”

“Like what?” Wilson asked.

“A charm. It was a small silver cat. The only thing I had left of my childhood before…” She hesitated, then shrugged. “It was sentimental. Please tell me you found it.”

“I found it.”

Cat’s eyes rounded in disbelief.

“Oh my God…you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Wilson was surprised by her sudden burst of emotion. It was, after all, just a charm. A small grin tilted the left corner of his mouth.

“Yes, ma’am, serious as a heart attack.”

Cat threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard and fast.

Before he could react, she’d pulled away and high-fived him so vigorously that the palm of his hand actually burned.

“I can’t believe it,” Cat kept saying. “I was so certain it was gone forever. Thank you! You don’t know what it means to me.”

“I’m beginning to get an idea,” He said, rubbing his burning hand on the backside of his gym shorts.

She glanced at her watch, then back at him.

“Where do you live? I’ll come get it. Or, if you’d rather, you can drop it off at my place. Here… I’ll give you my address.”

She tore a piece of paper from a little notebook in her gym bag and quickly wrote out her address.

“That’s my phone number, too,” she said.

Wilson stifled a grin. It wouldn’t do to let her know that he was as excited about the number and address as she was about the charm. He was still holding her address when Cat’s cell phone rang.

She reached into her gym bag, saw the caller ID, recognized Marsha’s number and frowned.

“Look. I’m sorry, but I need to take this. Call me. We’ll set up a time to meet later.”

“Absolutely,” Wilson said, but Cat was already walking away.

“That was weird,” he muttered. She’d been ecstatic to know he had the charm, then had turned all businesslike and cold.

Still, he had her number and he had the charm. It was only a matter of time before they got together. He packed up his things and left the gym, much happier than when he’d gone in.

Cat, on the other hand, had just had her joy reduced to a large knot in the middle of her belly.

“Mimi, what’s wrong?”

Marsha was sobbing. It was all Cat could do to make out what she was trying to say.

“He fired you? Is that what you said? The sorry bastard actually fired you?”

“Yes,” Marsha said, and then drew a deep, shaky breath. “I was escorted from the building as if I’d try to steal company secrets.”

“Are you okay to drive home? Do you want me to—”

“I’m fine,” Marsha said. “My feelings are just hurt. Even though I knew he was angry, I never really thought he was capable of something like this.”

“I’m coming over,” Cat said. “I’ll be there by—”

“No, no, I’m not even home,” Marsha said. “I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour. I’ll come over later.”

“What time?” Cat asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll call you, okay?”

“If you’re sure,” Cat said. She didn’t like it, but Marsha was a grown woman. She had to give her some room to grieve.

“I’m sure,” Marsha said. “Talk to you later.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Cat said.