Читать книгу It Started That Night - Virna DePaul - Страница 11

The large room at the Mercy Rehabilitation Clinic was meant for serious activity. The red-and-yellow checkered vinyl floor and cheery yellow walls had been sealed to withstand spilled paint, markers, clay, glue and plaster of Paris. Aside from Lily and Fiona, however, the room was deserted and quiet. Lily smiled at the little girl, who’d been dropped off for her weekly appointment by her new foster parents. Fiona looked positively radiant, even if she still hadn’t said a word. No surprise since she hadn’t talked since the accident.

“I’m making another exception for you, Lily. But I can’t make it a habit. Please understand that.”

Lily brought her attention back to the woman on the phone. “I know, Dr. Tyler. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t so important.”

“Our prior agreement still stands. I can’t talk to you about John or Carmen. I’m not even sure I—”

Before Dr. Tyler could change her mind about meeting her, Lily said, “Thank you, Dr. Tyler. I’ll see you soon.” Lily hung up the phone and stared at it.

She couldn’t believe she’d actually called John’s mother for a therapy appointment, but she had no one else to go to. The dreams were getting worse and she needed to talk to someone—a professional—about what they might mean. And John’s mother was a licensed therapist, one who’d helped her after her mother’s murder, so she already knew all the relevant facts about her history and her mother’s case.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Lily’s body jerked and she let out a frightened scream. One of the on-duty nurses frowned at her.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”

Lily forced a laugh and raised a hand to cover her racing heart. “I’m fine,” she said. She glanced at Fiona again. “We were just concentrating, weren’t we, Fiona?”

The little girl smiled but didn’t answer. She went back to her drawing, her little tongue poking out of her mouth.

Lily shifted her gaze to the boy standing in the hallway. Albert Sanchez quickly looked away, feigning interest in the worn linoleum floor. Conflicting emotions momentarily held her paralyzed.

Albert had been discharged from the hospital less than three weeks ago, five months after he’d staggered into the emergency room with complaints of “intense headaches.” Turned out he’d had a bullet in his skull. Although it hadn’t taken his life, the bullet had damaged his speech and his coordination. Lily had worked with him for months, surprised by his unwavering enthusiasm for anything artistic. She’d developed a genuine affection for the boy and he’d seemed to get increasingly comfortable with her. But once he’d been discharged, he hadn’t returned.

Until today.

He was a thief and a gang member. When he’d been brought in, he’d been accompanied by a group of older boys who wore their attitude and hostility as easily as their baggy, low-waisted jeans and gang colors.

His dark hair covered his skull again, and the number fourteen tattooed on his temple, the one that marked him as a Norteño, stood out starkly against his pale skin. Unlike his friends, his face was clear of the tear-shaped tattoo that symbolized a gang-related kill.

He has a good heart, she reminded herself. He isn’t like those other boys. She turned to Fiona. “That’s beautiful, Fiona,” she said. “You keep working on that and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Fiona nodded. Lily pushed back her chair and walked over to Albert with a casual stroll that belied the tension she was feeling.

She propped her hand on her hip. Casual confidence, even if it was playacting. She didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. Not anymore.

“So, long time no see,” she said in almost perfect Spanish.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and slouched. “You look busy.” He glanced at her paints before turning away.

“Hey,” she said, switching to English. “Don’t leave yet. I need someone to help me paint some tiles. And if you’re feeling good, why don’t you help me?”

He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t walk away, either.

“I saw you looking at my paints.” She grinned, feeling more at ease. “And I know you didn’t come just to see me. Or did you?” Her voice was light, trying to reestablish a rapport with him.

He turned his face slightly, and she saw the flush move up his neck and face. Once again, she wondered how this boy, who loved cheeseburgers, basketball and backgammon, had gotten involved with gangs. “I need an eagle for a mural in the pediatric ward,” she said, rushing to cover up her faux pas. “You think you’re up for painting one?”

He looked at the table and paints again. Gave a longsuffering sigh and shrugged. Despite being only fifteen, he towered above her and had arms that were thick with muscle. A boy trapped in a man’s body. In a man’s world. He took a seat next to Fiona and Lily joined him.

Lily worked with Fiona and Albert for over an hour, slipping into a comfortable silence.

“Lily.”

This time, Lily didn’t jerk at the intrusion of another person’s voice in the silence. And the frown on her face as she turned toward John’s voice was more in reaction to her lack of fear than his sudden appearance. Why was it that Nancy’s voice could startle her when John’s didn’t?

He stepped into the room and after a long look at Lily, turned his attention to Albert and Fiona. Almost instantly, Albert stood with a loud scrape of his chair and grabbed his backpack. “I’ve gotta go, Lily.”

“But why—” Lily started, sighing in exasperation when Albert gave Fiona a quick wave and rushed out the door. Angry now, she turned back to John. To her shock, Fiona had left her own seat and sidled up next to him.

He crouched down next to her. “Hey, sweetie. What have you got there?”

“Fiona—”

After shooting her a look that made her protest falter like a fumbled football, John smiled encouragingly at Fiona. She handed him a piece of paper.

He whistled. “What a great drawing. Is this your cat?”

Smiling, Fiona held up one finger.

“One of them?” He laughed when she nodded vigorously. “Very cool.”

Leaving the paper in his hand, Fiona skipped back to the table and started drawing again. Lily stared at her in shock. The little girl was rarely so friendly and she never shared her art with strangers. That she did so with John made Lily feel a strange pang in her chest.

“Who was that … boy? A patient of yours.”

Lily said nothing but didn’t miss the pause before he said “boy.” Like he’d wanted to say something else. Like he was criticizing who she chose to consort with—again. Just like he had all those years ago with Hardesty.

Rubbing the back of his neck, John jerked his chin at Fiona. “She’s a doll.”

She didn’t know why, but his words, more than his obvious disapproval of Albert, made her bristle. “Well, she’s blond, just like Stacy. I guess you’ve still got the touch.”

John stared at her, his fists clenched at his sides.

She mentally cursed her wayward tongue.

“So you don’t trust anyone anymore, Lily? Not even friends?”

She looked away. “I don’t have friends. I have my work. I have my family. That’s all I need.”

“Is that why you stopped writing Carmen?”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes at the mention of her best friend’s name. Former best friend.

“It took her a long time to get over that, you know. She misses you.”

“I never meant to hurt her.” To move on, Lily had needed to divorce herself from him completely. Since Carmen was John’s sister, that had seemed to require divorcing herself from Carmen, as well.

“You trusted her once. You trusted me.”

Anger crowded out her guilt and sorrow. She hadn’t just trusted him. She’d loved him. With everything inside her. With her entire heart and soul. He’d taken what she’d offered and crushed it. “Yes, and that was my mistake. I don’t trust you now. I don’t like you. I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Bull.” He said it quietly, but emphatically.

She looked wildly at Fiona, who was oblivious to the drama unfolding around her, then said, “I’m at work! How dare you—”

After glancing toward Fiona himself, John shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he leaned toward her. “But one thing I’m certain of. You might not like me, Lily. But you’re still attracted to me.”

She tried to deny it, but the words stuttered to a halt in her throat. She couldn’t speak past the desire rippling through her, making her skin so sensitive the weight of her clothes became unbearable.

A shameful heat warmed her body. And a shameful realization—she’d felt more alive in the past few minutes than she had in God knows how long. “You’re insane.”

His eyes narrowed and swept her body, stopping on her nipples, which she could feel straining against the cotton of her shirt. “I don’t think so.”

He moved as if to touch her, but a nurse stepped into the room. She paused when she saw them. “Sorry! I just came to bring Fiona to her next appointment. You okay, Lily?”

Lily didn’t take her eyes off John. He turned, walked to the window, and propped an arm on the window frame to stare outside.

Trying to follow his lead, she looked at the nurse and smiled. “I’m fine. We’re discussing a private matter.”

The woman’s gaze drifted to John. Understanding flared in her eyes as she assumed John was a patient or the distraught parent of one. She got Fiona’s things together. Lily gave the girl a hug and promised to see her soon. The nurse closed the door as she left.

Lily took the offensive, trying something she hadn’t yet: reason. “Look, all I care about is making sure Hardesty pays for what he did. You’re not the only one who can ask questions. Maybe I’ll do some investigating on my own—”

He jerked around to face her. “And put yourself in danger again? It took Hardesty killing your mother before you realized what a danger he was the first time.”

The words hit her like a battering ram, causing her to stumble. Although she pressed her lips together, she couldn’t hold back a whimper of pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to fight. I came here to apologize. You didn’t give me a chance … I didn’t mean for you to see those pictures. I mean—” He threaded his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Good,” she said, but her words were empty. Slowly, she sank into a chair and hung her head so her hair covered her face. Be fair for once, she told herself. This isn’t John’s fault. No matter how much his rejection had hurt, he’d never made any promises or declarations of love to mislead her. And he’d had no part in what happened afterward.

But here he was. A big, impossible-to-ignore reminder of her own foolishness.

She heard him move and raised her head. He was staring at one of the mosaics she’d made and hung on the wall, a cheery swirl of color creating a sunflower. He stroked his finger across the individual tiles. She shivered as if he’d touched her body. Pleasure rioted through her.

For several seconds, his gaze remained fixed on the mosaic. When he looked up, he studied her with the same intensity. “It fits—you being an art therapist.”

She rolled her eyes—self-preservation. “I’m so glad you approve.”

He sat beside her, undeterred when she cringed away. “I didn’t ask for this, Lily. Believe it or not, I don’t get off on hurting you. Now or in the past.”

Swallowing hard, she stared at him. His voice was tinged with real regret. And suddenly she was tired of blaming him when she’d had her part in what happened that night. “Look, I read your signals wrong. I thought I meant more to you then I did and it made me act stupid.” She shoved to her feet and hugged her arms to her chest. “In the end, it all meant nothing. For you, it never meant anything at all.”

“That’s not true.” He stood and lightly gripped her arms. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was hard turning you down. I was interested in you. More than I ever let on.”

She sucked in a breath and her chest brushed against his. Pleasure shot through her and she raised her hand to push him away. What would it feel like to pull him closer, just once?

“I still am.”

He stared at her lips, his eyes a fierce blue backlit by desire. The warmth coursing through her exploded into flames. She took a step back. “No,” she whispered, doubt rolling through her.

“Yes,” he countered.

She tried to turn her head, but he held her arm with one hand while he raised the other to cup her cheek. She gasped at how good his touch felt. Helplessly, she nuzzled closer, but he dropped both hands and stepped away.

She moaned, overcome with loss. He took another step back, his face stiff and unnaturally controlled. His fingers clenched and then relaxed. “But you’re a witness in this investigation. And that’s a line I can’t cross. You were so young then—”

“You damn tease! If I was a temptation, I was one easily cast aside. You already proved that. You didn’t need to do it again.”

Grabbing her wrists with an infuriated growl, he pulled her against him. Her breath whooshed out of her as every inch of her pressed against every inch of him. Chest. Thighs. And every sensitive place in between.

His mouth covered hers. Need exploded in a painful rush of sensation, scaring her. She couldn’t do this. Didn’t know how to show him everything she was feeling. She whimpered and pulled back, her breath as quick and shallow as his.

His hands loosened on her arms. He visibly struggled for control. Before he could completely let go, Lily grabbed his face and pulled him close.

John groaned when Lily’s lips softened under his. He feasted on them for several long minutes before pulling back to bury his face in her throat. “So long. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he managed to gasp out.

Her answering moan of need, tremulous and whisper soft, shivered into him until he felt it settle somewhere in his chest. Desperate, he took her mouth again. She tasted amazing. Sweet and innocent, just as she had years ago. But at the same time, the sweetness was tempered with spice. A ripe sexuality bore itself out in the parry and thrust of her tongue against his.

Lowering his hands to her hips, he arched her into his groin, relishing her broken gasps of pleasure and the way her hands pulled at his hair. His mouth opened wider and he pushed her against the door, flattening his palms against it and grinding his aching shaft against her until he was practically drilling her. Instead of stopping him, she arched into him, opening her legs wider.

He pulled back, breathing in air like a locomotive. He clenched his fists, stepped completely away, and walked to her art table. He braced himself on stiffened arms. Only when he felt fully in control did he turn to face her.

She’d moved from the door and sat on the battered thrift-store couch, her head tipped back and eyes closed. She must have heard him move, because she suddenly opened her eyes and sat up. She kept her face averted.

“I’m sorry.” John winced. “Again.”

Her mouth twisted bitterly. “Poor John. You take responsibility for everything, don’t you? But I’m a big girl.” She rose, dusted off her hands as if she could rid herself of him that easily, and shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to know if you’d learned anything new since I last saw you.”

He wanted to take her up on her challenge. To crawl onto her body and press her into the soft cushions and satisfy her curiosity fully. But despite her taunting words, her eyes looked anything but confident.

“Bottom line, you know I care about you. I’m just trying to do my job.”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“You want this investigation closed?”

This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then talk to me. Get your family to cooperate. Your father’s dodged every attempt I’ve made to talk to him. The more you and your family fight me, the longer it’s going to take.”

“You want me to hand my family over to you? To feed them to the wolves?”

Eyes narrowed, he asked, “Are you hiding something?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“I can see it in your eyes, Lily. Who are you trying to protect? Hardesty?”

Her laugh was high and panicked sounding. “No one.”

“Then who? Your father?”

“No.” The word came out so quietly. “No,” she said with more force. “Of course not.”

“Because if you are, I guarantee you I will find out. Your father never liked me, but he’s going to have to face me sometime.”

“Don’t bother my father just because yours is lucky enough to be dead.”

Shock widened his eyes.

Lily was one of the few people who knew how devastated he’d been when his father, the former mayor of Sacramento, had hung himself amidst allegations of embezzlement. It had changed him into the rebellious bad boy who’d later had trouble with the law. He’d allowed few past that protective armor. His family. Lily. And she’d just—ruthlessly and deliberately—torn into his wounds.

He moved closer, stopping when she scrambled away. “I’d never hurt you, Lily. Obviously this was a mistake. You don’t want to help me, that’s fine. We’ll see how it plays out on its own.”

“I’m sorry. I just said that to hurt you.”

He froze in the act of walking away and briefly glanced over her shoulder. “Well, it worked. Score one for you.”