Afterlife (54 page)

Damn it. God damn double fucking

shit on a brick

damn it.

Everyone was nicked and dinged to a

certain extent by

the natural progress of life. He’d

understood that Rachel

was badly damaged. The pain she’d

felt from years of

emotional estrangement from her

spouse, then from the

devastating loss of her son, had

resulted in a meticulously

constructed life that revolved in a

peripheral way around

people, passing inspection, but not

attracting attention. The

yoga and the physical therapy were

ways she could offer

parts of herself while continuing to

protect the wounded

center too raw for intimacy of any

kind.

He remembered how she kept the

photo album in her

wardrobe. She had lots of

acquaintances, but no real

friends. She’d found her way to the

center of the merry-go-

round of life, where she could be

dazzled by the colors and

lights, enjoy watching the pretty

ponies, but she was never

on the ride herself. Because people

saw her, most didn’t

see that she wasn’t moving with them

—just watching from

her stil point.

It made him realize that he might

know her better than

anyone, since the whole purpose of

his weekly visits to her

yoga class over the past year had

been to study her, to

analyze why he was increasingly

more attracted to her. And

she’d stil been able to fool him, keep

him on the outside al

that time.

His fist curled on his thigh, as he

again recal ed that

instant transformation, from the

quietly wounded yet strong

and outrageously sexy woman, to a

cringing, insecure and

pathetic creature, a version of herself

he sensed she’d

once been ful time. He wanted to rip

Cole to pieces, but it

was far easier to destroy a human

body than the memories

it had inflicted upon her.

That was the key, wasn’t it? How to

overpower those

memories. He’d known from the

beginning he needed to

close the deal fast, that she would

keep erecting shields

faster than he knocked them down. As

Matt had said, he’d

had to break them apart, make it

impossible for her to

resurrect them.

So sure he would be her shield until

she had the faith and

confidence in his love to stand

without them, he’d taken her

to the club. He’d broken them apart,

al right. In his

arrogance, he’d never anticipated

something like this. And

now she was defenseless against the

pain of her own soul

that she’d spent years trying to

survive.

Fucking hell.
He’d picked up his

bolt cutter and was

flipping the handle out and back

while he rocked on the

stool. Now he tossed it back down on

the workbench with a

resounding clang against the metal

frame. He didn’t care.

He was going back over there. If he

had to break down the

damn door, he’d do it. She wouldn’t

cal the police. He

knew she wouldn’t. And if Mrs.

Lowery did, Rachel wouldn’t

let them haul him off to jail. Maybe.

Of course, that was why

Matt paid Ben the big bucks. He

could bail him out.

“You missed our usual post-club

midnight dinner.

Giuseppe had some outstanding

limoncel o tonight.”

Jon turned toward the open window

to the porch and the

familiar voice, finding Matt sitting on

the sil . His boss was

stil wearing slacks and dress shirt,

but he’d lost the coat,

the col ar of the shirt open and

sleeves rol ed up. He

dropped the takeout bag on the floor

and brought both legs

inside, bracing them in a comfortable

splayed position as

he tossed Jon a cold import from the

smal cooler he also

had with him.

Even immersed in a project, Jon

usual y detected any

visitors pul ing into his drive, no

matter the hour. But he

expected his senses were a bit off

tonight. He’d cal ed

Peter after leaving her place and fil

ed him in, and had

known Peter would pass the current

status on to the others,

but stil he was surprised to see Matt.

“I’m going fucking insane. I can’t stay

here and do

nothing.”

“You aren’t doing nothing. You’re

thinking. And from what

I know of your mind, that’s the energy

equivalent of a ful

army on the march. She’s al right for

now.”

Reaching into his pocket, he

produced a smal black

revolver, and laid it on the nearest

worktable. “She keeps it

tucked between her towels in her

linen closet. From the

bluing on the muzzle, Max thinks she

probably hasn’t pul ed

it out of there since…since she used

it last.”

Jon stared at it, then at his boss and

mentor. “I saw how

she reacted to Savannah at the club,”

Matt continued. “So

when Peter told me what happened, I

had Max take

Savannah over. Rachel didn’t want to

talk, but she let

Savannah in. She let her tuck her in

and sit by her bed until

she fel asleep. My baby’s spending

the night on her couch,

keeping an eye on her through an

open door.” Matt gave

him a faint smile. “You’l owe me for

that. I don’t sleep

without her. Once Rachel was

asleep, Savannah looked

through her things, found the gun. I

could have sent Max in

to do it, but Savannah knows her way

around firearms.

Plus, a woman would have a better

idea where another

woman would keep a gun. Once she

found it, she gave it to

Max and he brought it to me.”

Jon found his voice at last. “How did

you know about it? I

hadn’t told anyone.”

Matt lifted an unapologetic shoulder,

pul ed out a bread

stick and pushed the bag toward him

with his foot. “I watch

after my people, Jon. When you

started getting invested in

Rachel Madison months ago, I knew

the signs. So when

you made your move last week, I had

her name run through

a couple of my contacts.”

“Wow.” Jon ran a hand over his tired

face, digesting that.

“Some part of me feels like I should

be pissed off. But

considering you were able to step in

where I fucked up, I

guess it would al be ego.”

Matt snorted. “Of al of us, you’re

guided the least by your

ego. It’s why you excel at diplomacy

when things get real y

heated. But you do have one, Jon.”

He lifted his beer,

quirking his brow. “Despite our

teasing, we al know you

have as big a dick as the rest of us.

And you didn’t fuck up,

by the way. You couldn’t have

anticipated what happened

tonight.”

Jon surged off the stool, moved

restlessly around the

workshop. “I should have. That’s the

way these things work,

Matt. We both know that. We’ve seen

things crop up during

a strategy session that bug us, but

because of other

priorities we don’t cover them the

way we should. Then,

sure enough, they bite us in the ass

when we least expect it.

I’ve been racing against a clock, and

the whole time I’ve

had that niggling feeling I was

missing something vital by

taking things at that speed, and sure

enough, there it was.”

He gave a short, harsh chuckle.

“There’s a reason for those

seemingly contrived coincidences we

see in the movies.

Fate doesn’t like deception or loose

ends, and has a way

of putting them right in your face.”

“So you had a setback, that’s al . You

fal back, regroup,

plan a different strategy. Do you think

she loves you?”

“She wants to. And I know I love

her.” Jon stopped at one

of his unfinished projects, a

modification to a CNC arm

that, if he figured out the right

programming, might be able

to increase their production rate at

the plant in Honduras.

He laid his hand on the cool metal,

stared at it. “It’s been

growing in me this whole year, since

I met her. As great a

life as I have, the hour or two a week

I spent in her classes

made it al ten times better. I think

I’ve memorized every

expression she has, the way she

moves, the way she

smel s…

“That first class, when she laid her

hands on my forehead

during the
nidra
—a closing ritual for yoga,” he added,

knowing Matt preferred boxing at a

gym for his workout

regimen, “I swear everything in me

just went stil . She works

me up, gets me hard and hot with a

look, but she can also

make everything in me go stil and

quiet as wel , a sense of

absolute peace, a balance. She walks

the same paths I do.

She’s the one. But I’m afraid that

waiting so long to bring

that to fruition has made me push

things too fast, and I’m

using how it was for al of you to

justify my own impatience.

And as a result, this has happened.”

“Hmm.” Matt moved to the stool near

his, bringing the

ignored takeout bag. Pul ing out two

containers of food, he

sent a pointed look at the other stool

until Jon returned to it.

Then he slid one container over to

him, tossing a set of

metal utensils next to it. At Jon’s

look, Matt grinned.

“Rosalie always tel s me to bring

them back for the next

takeout order. She knows how I hate

to eat with plastic.”

Jon shook his head. “Savannah

should worry about the

relationship you have with that

woman. I’m going to tel her

you have a culinary affair going on

with a seventy-two-year-

old Italian grandmother.”

“Savannah has no problem as long as

it keeps me from

demanding that she cook for me. Not

that I’d ever be that

brave.” Matt flashed his teeth. “My

stomach is not iron-clad.”

“And pissed-off women who commit

murder prefer

poison as the weapon of choice.” Jon

gave a half chuckle,

but then he sobered. The food smel

ed good, and knowing

Rachel was safe, that Savannah was

with her, did help.

Matt would have known that. He

knew how to bring out the

best in his people, give them the right

environment to do

their best work, or in this case, their

best thinking. As

always, Jon wondered if Matt was a

reincarnated

Machiavel i—with a kinder heart and

a Texas drawl.

“Out of al three women,” Jon said

thoughtful y, “Savannah

has the most of what Rachel has,

doesn’t she? That pain so

wel contained, it’s like a bomb. The

night you detonated it

for Savannah, you went for a

completely control ed

environment. I should have done that.

She just always

wanted to experience a place like

Surreal. But I wasn’t

expecting her ex to show up and set

off the charge like

that.”

“As you said, you can’t run from

Fate. Plus, you tend to

excel at handling the unpredictable.

You handled it the right

way, even though you don’t feel like

that now, because she

outmaneuvered you at her apartment.

Expect some shit

from Ben on that, by the way.”

“I’m sure. Remind me to pul out my

underused ego and

gloat like a damn peacock when his

heart final y takes a

fal .”

“I’d like to see that,” Matt said, his

dark eyes serious.

“Ben needs that in his life. The last

thing I’d ever accuse

Ben of is being maudlin. He’s as

practical and live-in-the-

moment as they come. But…”

When he shrugged, Jon finished it.

“He’s starting to feel

lonely, watching al of us find our

other half. It’s like he’s a

foster kid again, watching al the other

kids with parents

who love them.”

“Yeah.”

Jon knew when it happened for Ben,

he wouldn’t gloat.

None of them would. They’d do

exactly what they were

doing for Jon now. They’d give Ben

everything they had to

make sure he found that inner peace

that came when a

man found the answer to al of it in

one woman’s eyes.

Everything he was or wanted to be

became about her, for

her. She was a comfort zone, where

everything was

possible.