With Extreme Pleasure (3 page)

“W
ho the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

At the sound of her roommate’s voice, Cady pushed by King and swatted at the handgun the other woman gripped in both hands like she was some kind of cop trained to use it. “He’s with me, Alice. Back off.”

She headed for the kitchen and the case of peanut butter cracker packets she’d bought the other day, figuring she could live on those and not have to worry about starving as well as being homeless until she came up with a better plan than forcing King Trahan to let her stow away.

But Alice was in no mood to back off. When Cady turned, she found her roommate and the other woman’s wrath blocking her exit from the kitchen, the gun in her hand way too cop-trained steady as she pointed it at Cady’s forehead. “What’s in the trash bags?”

Cady wrapped her arms around the big box of crackers, braced her feet on either side of the bag she’d set on the floor. “My stuff. Shoes, clothes. You can do what you want with everything else. Sell it, trash it. I don’t care. Just move so I can get out of here.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I see what’s in the bags.” Alice blew her overlong black bangs out of her eyes, pursing her bright red lips when she did. “You obviously think anything you can get your hands or cunt on is yours to take, but it’s not the middle of the night, and I’m not drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re still a lunatic bitch. I’m done playing punching bag, Alice, and I’m done taking the blame for your boyfriend not being able to tell which bed the real cunt sleeps in,” Cady said, and hefted the box to one side, reaching down for the bag—stopping short when she heard the click as her roommate released the safety.

Well, shit.

She straightened slowly, her stomach rising into her throat. Forget the “C” word. She’d called the woman a lunatic intending it as an insult, unaware it was the whole truth and nothing but. “Fine. Look inside. You won’t find anything but my shoes. And not even all of them at that. I left a dozen pairs in the closet, including those red velvet Jimmy Choos you love from the Chelsea resale shop—”

Alice’s yelp cut off the rest of whatever Cady had been blabbering about. As she looked on, King, who’d taken his sweet time getting here, grabbed Alice’s arm and slammed it to the side and back, twisting the gun from her grip while she fought like a heathen she-devil, snarling and scratching and screaming nasty words Cady didn’t think she’d ever heard come out of anyone’s mouth.

But he didn’t stop there. He shoved Alice into the closest dining chair and kept her there with nothing but a look while he removed the ammunition from the gun. “Do I need to call the cops here? Or can we play nice?”

“Call them,” Alice spat, sitting on her hands, her blunt cut hair wild and sharp around her pinched face. “Let them see how much of that shit she’s hauling out belongs to me or Tyler or Renee.”

“Done,” King said, his gaze moving from Alice to Cady as he walked toward the kitchen and picked up the phone, tucking the gun into his waistband before dialing. “Then your roommate can file assault charges. And while the boys in blue are here, she can explain you threatening her with a deadly weapon. Should make for an interesting visit.”

“Wait,” Alice said, her capitulation even faster than Cady had anticipated, stopping King from punching the third number to complete the 911 call. “Just get out of here. Both of you. Leave and don’t ever come back.”

“There’s not enough money in the world,” Cady muttered, more than happy to get going.

“Are you kidding? The right price, and you’d do anything, you whore,” Alice snarled. “Take your crap and your mangy skanky ass to Jersey where you belong.”

Cady ignored the slur, letting it slide off her back as she reached for her things, slapped her key on the table, and headed for the door, hoping King would do the same. She should never have let him talk her into coming here.

“Hold up,” King said, and since he was the only reason she was still in one piece—forget that he was also the only reason she’d returned at all—she held up, asking, “What?”

He cocked his head toward Alice. “Does your roommate here owe you a refund on the rent? There are twenty-five days left in the month.”

“If you think after what she did that I’m going to give her a dime—” Alice began, closing her mouth when King reached again for the phone.

“It’s not worth it,” Cady said after looking from King to Alice and back, and seeing as much pity as she did loathing. Neither one did much for her self-esteem.

She wanted out of here. That was all. She didn’t care about the money, which was stupid considering she didn’t have much expendable to her name.

She just wanted to finish the moving out she’d started this morning and get on with her life. If that was even possible. Which after eight years of trying, she wasn’t betting on.

Her face was hurting, and she was glad it did. That centered, focused pain kept her from dwelling on the others pounding both her body and her soul. She wasn’t used to feeling sorry for herself, but she needed someone to, and right now, she was her only choice.

She jerked open the door, shouldered through to the landing with her bags, and dragged them behind her down the stairs. She didn’t wait for King, but heard him a flight above following.

At this point, she didn’t even care if he was bringing the rest of her things. All she cared about, all she was hoping for, was that he’d kept Alice’s gun and the ammunition.

She had a feeling that sooner or later she was going to need it.

K
ing drove them away from the apartment and wound his way through the city to the sounds of squealing tires, shouted curses, and blaring horns. They were halfway across the George Washington Bridge before Cady snapped and realized where they were.

Crap.

And she’d thought the day so far had been a titanic disaster.

“Where are we going?” she asked, hoping the bridge as his choice of exit route from the city had been purely random, and that he hadn’t picked up on Alice’s Jersey remark.

He had. “You bein’ a Jersey girl and all, I figured Jersey was the best bet for finding you someplace to stay.”

“Then you need to figure again. There’s nothing for me there anymore.”

“Meaning there once was.”

God, this day! What next? A stake through her heart? A telephone pole through her eye?

“Not to pick at the scab,” King said. “But what did Alice mean, the right price and you’d do anything?”

No stake, no telephone pole. Just a plunger, sucking at all the crap she’d flushed away a long time ago. “She didn’t
mean
anything. Except to
be
mean. She’s just talking out of her ass, which is nothing new for Alice.”

King made a noise that sounded like, “Hmm,” but Cady feared if she asked what it meant, he’d tell her. Then they’d get into a big fat discussion about all the things in her life she had done for money.

That was a discussion she didn’t want to have, because if they did? Like everyone else she got into it with, he’d want to know why a nice girl with a business degree couldn’t stick with a job.

She didn’t want to tell him about the gossip and rumors, about giving up her car, about constantly moving—the things that made sticking with a job hard to do. Right now, the only thing she wanted was to get out of the city.

He was taking her, sure. But Jersey? She found herself gritting her teeth. “Drop me at the bus station. Greyhound and I go way back. I’ll find my own way outta here.”

He sputtered out a snort. “What about the ton of crap you’re hauling in those garbage bags? You need a semi, not a bus.”

“My problem, okay?”

King didn’t respond. He kept driving, pulling his cell from the clip at his waist and using one thumb to type more numbers than required for a phone call. Then he waited. Ten seconds later, the phone buzzed.

He flipped it open and glanced at the display. “Got a Cady Kowalski listed right here. Freehold Township.”

Her past. It was destined to haunt her forever. “And if you call that line, you’ll find it’s no longer working.”

“Yeah, but there’s an Edgar Kowalski at the same street address.” King secured his phone, flipped his blinker, and changed lanes. “I’m guessing he’s either an ex, a brother, or your dad. If it’s the first, then never mind. If it’s one of the others, I can’t see that it would kill you to go there until you can figure things out.”

That’s because he was blind to the ways of the Kowalski world. Spelling it out would only be inviting trouble, and so she didn’t say a word, trying not to imagine what would happen—and failing because her imagination wasn’t really required—if she showed up at her parents’ front door.

If her mother was there, the reception wouldn’t be much better than what Cady had received in the bathroom from Alice this morning. But if Edgar Kowalski was indeed at home instead of living the high life at McLanahan’s Pub…

And then a light went on, a cartoon bulb dangling above her head. The best way to prove to King that she couldn’t go home again might be to do just that. Show him how long it would take to have things figured out for her.

She wasn’t so stupid, however, as to do so without first checking to see if the coast was clear. What Alice had inflicted on Cady’s face was nothing compared to the damage Edgar Kowalski could do.

She took a courageous breath, knowing no amount of courage would change things. “If I tell you how to get to my parents’ house, you have to promise me that you won’t drive off and leave me the second I climb down from this seat.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need me to. Hell, I’ll carry your things inside.”

Cady held back a grunt. He didn’t have to sound so relieved to be getting rid of her, did he? Then again, she could see how he’d think her a nuisance, the way she’d dragged him into her drama. As if her cuts and bruises weren’t enough, there was the business end of Alice’s gun.

They had an hour or so ahead of them. She could share her life’s story between here and there, or she could sit back and stew and hope her hands didn’t shake so much that he noticed and started in with the platitudes, or worse, with wanting to know what was wrong.

She didn’t want to tell him. What she wanted was to show him the greeting she’d receive, the one for which she was already bracing. Then maybe he’d get it. Then maybe he’d see that there was no way she was staying in Jersey when so many people here wanted her gone.

After that, he’d have to take her with him, right? Or at least put her on a bus. She could always get in touch with him once she was settled and have him ship her her things, assuming he would agree to keep them and not toss them in the first Dumpster he saw.

Hey, a girl could dream, couldn’t she? Maybe this one wouldn’t turn into the usual nightmare. No, this plan might not be the best one she’d ever come up with, but with the way this day was going and time not being her friend, it was all she had in her.

And so she said, “Fine. But I’ll need you to make a quick detour.”

“What kind of detour?” he asked, all suspicion and hooded eyes again.

She didn’t even know why she’d said that. He wouldn’t know if he was detouring or not. “If I tell you now, that’ll ruin the surprise, won’t it?”

Of course, there was no surprise.

She just wasn’t up to explaining that going by the house where she’d grown up depended on her father having stopped off for a round—or ten—of drinks before going home from work to the dinner he wasn’t going to eat that her mother hadn’t wanted to cook in the first place.

Cady wasn’t sure if staying in Manhattan wouldn’t have been the better choice between the two hells.

“I’m not much of a surprise kinda guy,” King said, cutting into her musings.

“Good. Then you won’t be disappointed. Since this isn’t much of one.”

“Cady?”

“Fine,” she said, her easy surrender saying a lot about her state of mind. Alice’s beating must’ve been some sort of last straw because she hadn’t backed down after any she’d suffered in the past. “I want to know who’s home before I knock on the door. Last I knew, my father, that would be Edgar, topped off the workday with several pints. If he’s at the pub, that means I’ll only have my mother to face.”

“You make it sound like a death sentence.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

“Tell me about her.”

“I’d rather not. Besides, there’s nothing to tell. She cooks breakfast and lunch in a school cafeteria, then cooks dinner at home.”

“Is she a good cook?”

“Let’s just say she’s never met a canned food product she couldn’t find a use for.” Not that Cady would say no to a big plate of corned beef hash right about now.

She popped free her seat belt and squirreled around, digging a couple of cracker packets from the box in the back. She hadn’t eaten all day.

Behind her, King huffed. “I see cellophane’s not quite the same evil as aluminum.”

“Sure it is. But I’m starving.” She offered him the second pack anyway.

He shook his head. “Ferrer had a bon voyage lunch thing today. I think I ate at least three boxes of sandwiches and chips.”

“How long have you been in the city?” she asked, grateful for the opening. A change of subject was way overdue.

He glanced in his rearview mirror, signaled, and changed lanes to pass a slow-moving car. “I came up originally for the elopement party then stayed for the fragrance ad test shots. Three weeks, I guess.”

“Awful long time for a party and some pictures,” she said, then popped a whole cracker into her mouth.

“Yeah, but the biggest part of the visit was about seeing my cousin. You remember Simon?” he said, and she nodded, her mouth full. “We spent a long time out of touch, and just reconnected last year. Hanging out for a while seemed the thing to do.”

“Why the estrangement?” She was curious to see if he’d contradict her, correct her, tell her that he and Simon hadn’t been estranged, just living their own lives, doing their own things. It was hard to imagine them being out of touch. They’d seemed close the times she’d seen them together.

When he didn’t object to her question, she was thrilled. Not because she was right, but because her being right gave them a common ground.

He shook his head, returned to his lane. “An old sad story from a long time ago that’s not worth me taking the time to tell you.”

Meaning, it would be worth every gory word. “Juicy details?”

“None.”

“A woman?”

He hesitated a fraction too long.

“A-ha! There was.”

King gave a loud, “Hmph,” as he checked traffic again, the setting sun glinting off the pricey sunglasses he pulled from the visor and put on. “Not in the way you’re thinking, but yeah. Lorna Savoy. She was there for what went down.”

“What did go down?”

He cocked his mouth into a half wicked smile. “You don’t need to know, boo. Hell, you don’t want to know.”

More like he didn’t want to talk about it. She knew what that was like, steering clear of those things too personal to be kept as anything but secrets. Which, of course, had her curiosity climbing the proverbial walls.

“Sure I do.” And she did, though the story could wait. Hearing it wasn’t the goal. “But what I really want to know is that you understand being family doesn’t guarantee sunshine and rainbows, or even open arms.”

“Yeah, I understand,” he said, and then he shut up.

Since there was nothing more to be said, Cady shut up, too. She dug for and found a bottle of water in her backpack, then rinsed the cracker crumbs and peanut butter from her mouth.

After that, she would’ve closed her eyes and slept through the rest of the ride, but King didn’t know where to go, so she stayed awake and watched the familiar landmarks fly by.

She’d grown up in Freehold Township. Springsteen’s home. She, her mom and dad, her older brother Kevin.

Both of her parents were only children, meaning she and Kevin hadn’t spent their young lives tussling with cousins the way many of their classmates from large families had. They’d only had each other, which made everything that eventually happened so much worse.

Twisting her hands nervously in her lap, she told herself not to think about that now. She didn’t want to think about it ever again though the way the events of eight years ago continued to drive her life, it was hard not to.

But right now, with this morning fresh on her face and reminding her that she had no life, that she was a nobody, that she’d had to go to a complete stranger for help, she couldn’t wallow in the past, especially when she was on her way to confront it.

And so she made herself a deal. She wouldn’t think about Kevin’s murder while she was with King—a deal that got harder and harder to stick to the closer they drew to their destination.

She gave him directions to her family’s neighborhood, and tried not to grow melancholy as so many good memories assailed her and reminded her of all she’d lost.

Yeah, things had gone to shit in a very big way, but she’d grown up here, celebrated birthdays with Barbie and My Little Pony parties, learned way too young that there wasn’t really a Santa Claus, cheered on her junior high sports teams from the middle of the cheerleader pyramid, lost her virginity to Wayne Hoppes in the back of his yellow Ford Pinto.

Okay, so that last one wasn’t exactly a memory she wanted to revisit, but this had been her home, her
home
, goddamnit, for twenty-one years. Now it was a place where she was no longer welcome, where she no longer fit.

Coming back here just to prove that truth to King Trahan was not something she was looking forward to, but right now he was her best hope for getting far far away from here and doing so in one piece.

“Turn here,” she told him, pointing to the right as they approached the next intersection. He did, and once the red and green neon lights of McLanahan’s sign came into view, she added, “Slow down.”

“What is it that we’re looking for?”

“Edgar’s always been a fan of the big American auto. Last I knew, he was driving a late nineties’ Buick.”

And there it was, the maroon LeSabre parked at the curb in front of the pub’s front window. The car she remembered him bringing home new her junior year of high school.

The car he’d let her use after a lecture on buying American he’d made when her ancient Toyota wouldn’t run. The car Kevin had pummeled with a baseball bat the night Sunny, his girlfriend of six years, dumped him.

Cady smiled remembering how many jobs Kevin had worked to pay for the repairs, Edgar never saying a word when he’d been handed the check. Then she stopped smiling because she remembered why they were here.

“Two streets up, make a right, then a left at the third intersection. We’re the second house on the left.”
The one where my whole life imploded
.

King nodded and followed her directions without asking her to repeat a single step. Since her throat had swelled, making it highly unlikely that she would’ve been able to answer, she didn’t mind the silence. In fact, it made it easier for her to come up with something to say to her mother.

She was still working on that when the SUV rolled to a stop in front of the two-story Georgian that had once been white but had long ago gone to gray. The shutters on the upstairs windows were closed tight, keeping the memories inside. Two big oaks hugged the house in gentle shadows with the wide spread of their sheltering limbs.

If she’d had the time, Cady would’ve sat down on the sidewalk and cried. But she didn’t, so she took a deep breath and steeled herself for the confrontation to come, wishing things eight years ago hadn’t gone so wrong—wishing even more for a magic forgiveness fairy to sprinkle dust over her parents’ house.