Arms of Promise (14 page)

“I know it’s not much to most people, but I’m gonna miss this place,” she said out of nowhere.

A sideways glance caught her taking in the corners of her tiny living room.

She breathed in as though drawing from a depleting reserve of courage. “It’s the first real thing I did on my own.” She set her mug on the carpet. “Stepping out in faith . . . I thought I was really doing something. Thought Mom would’ve been proud of me.”

“It’s not over, Anna.”

“But if this audition doesn’t—”

“It will.” He covered her fingers with his. “You’re gonna rock it.”

Turmoil he didn’t understand touched her eyes. “I wish it were that simple.”

“Why isn’t it?”

Chin lowered, she twisted the drawstrings on her pants. “I gave up dance for a while. After Mom died and you left—I don’t know—it felt like art lost its meaning. There was just this emptiness.” A shudder followed her words. “Until I got on the floor again. Dance kept me going. It was like this safe place where I could come alive again.”

He squeezed her hand, desperate to take away every ounce of pain she’d experienced—pain he’d been a part of causing. “You’re not going to lose that.”

“But what if I should? The rec center, helping the people in this community . . . I can’t abandon everything Mom wanted me to live for.”

Evan angled toward her. “What are you talking about? She always believed in your dance career.”

“No, she believed in using art to bless people. It’s supposed to be about giving, not receiving.”

“Why can’t it be both? You used to think you could make a difference on a company.”

She scoffed. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Or maybe you’re scared.”

“Of what?” She drew herself up.

“You tell me.” He held her gaze until her defensive pose withered into a torn expression.

Instead of answering, she nestled closer to his side. “You sound like her, you know? My mom. She always made it feel like there was nothing to be afraid of.” She exhaled against him. “But after training your whole life for something, what happens if it’s not enough?”

Evan bristled at the question cutting to his core. With a slow breath, he rested his cheek to her hair and prayed the truth her heart needed to hear right now would one day penetrate his own. “Then you find the faith to believe the journey was still worth it.”

Her hold tightened around his arm. But rather than respond, she let the even tempo of her breathing stand in for words.

Minutes faded with the steam rising from the mugs on the floor until Anna finally stirred again.

“Thanks for making an excuse to stay.” She sat upright and yawned, once again tucking away any hint of angst. “I mean, it wasn’t your smoothest act, but I’ll cut you some slack since it’s been a draining day.”

His lips pulled to the left. “I think I should at least get some bonus points for keeping your icy hands warm.”

Her eyes shot ice darts of their own. “You wanna feel cold?”

He squirmed away from her fingers reaching for the back of his neck.

Bailey catapulted to the floor and cast them both a Gollum-worthy glare before trotting to her well-worn spot on the purple easy chair.

Anna didn’t miss the diversion. She stretched to the end table for the diluted icepack, tackled him on the cushion, and slipped it down his shirt. “How’s that for cold?” Patting the bag as it drifted down his back, she lit up in satisfied laughter. “Now who’s got bonus points?”

He jumped up and fanned out his shirt until the bag landed on the carpet. “Real cute.” He flopped back down. “Just wait until you fall asleep.”

“Right back at ya.” She slid her legs out from under her and brandished her toes. “I haven’t busted out my greatest weapons yet.”

“Death by ice. You should contract for the army.”

She gave him a good whack with the pillow. He caught it and drew her close. Relenting, she nuzzled up to him again. A palpable silence took the place of her laughter. What was going through her mind?

Delaying whatever she wasn’t saying, she picked cat hairs off her pajama bottoms one at a time. “I’m sorry I’ve been . . . difficult lately. I really appreciate you being here for me.”

He brushed his cheek over her head and inhaled her natural fragrance. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Until you go back to Georgia.” She spoke so softly, he almost didn’t hear it.

“I haven’t decided that yet,” he whispered back.

Another weighted pause hung between them. She drew her legs in, curved a hand over her toes, and bent her foot back and forth.

“What are you thinking?” Was it fair to ask?

She released her foot and a sigh. “Are you here because . . . I mean, I’ll understand if you are, but I need to know . . . Are you only hanging out with me this week because you feel like you have to until this case blows over?” Her voice dwindled to a whisper by the end of her question.

His pulse sprinted in a race to suppress the words he had to keep buried. He wanted to tell her, wanted to be honest, but not at the risk of forfeiting the only place he had in her life. He couldn’t lose her for good.

“It’s fine.” She pulled back, leaving a cold draft billowing down his arm. “I know we’ve lost touch and aren’t as close anymore. I understand if—”

“Anna, please.” He faced her but stopped himself from lifting a hand to her cheek again. He’d already crossed enough boundaries tonight.

Drawing from his military training, Evan leveled his gaze with as much candor as he could offer. “I’ll always do what I can to protect you, but it’s never out of obligation.”

She batted away the slightest gleam coating her eyes.

A garbled sound sawed from the easy chair. He peeked over the arm. “Is that . . . ?”

Another snore.

Anna laughed away any trace of tears, clearly grateful for the interruption. “It’s Bailey. She snores when she’s overtired.”

Evan made a face, and she shoved him. “Don’t make fun of her.”

“So, it’s true what they say.” He winked. “Pets eventually become one with their owners.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Yeah, right.” He dared her to deny it. “Camping trip. Seventh grade.”

That got a rise out of her. “I wouldn’t have been out cold like that if you and Bobby Fenson weren’t up to your stupid pranks, slipping me Benadryl. I don’t usually sleep that hard.”

A strand of hair that’d fallen loose from her ponytail dangled over her eyelash. She huffed it away, keeping her stance but crippling his. She shouldn’t be allowed to look so sexy when she wasn’t even trying.

He tried to pass off his groan as a barb. “If you say so.”

Arms crossed, nose and eyes scrunched, Anna stared him down. But another drawn-out snore sent the corners of her lips twitching until she caved to a laugh.

Her soft gaze lingered on him. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Always know how to make me feel better?” She twisted her pajama pants’ strings again. “Especially when I should be the one being strong for you.”

He swallowed and hugged her to his side. “You are.” She had since they were five.

“Thanks for putting up with me, Evan,” she whispered against his arm. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed having my best friend here.”

A pang of mixed emotions sank into him. Raking a hand through his hair, he clung to the only thing getting him through this right now. Humor. “As long as you keep your cold feet off me, we’ll call it even.”

“Always got jokes. I’m glad you find yourself amusing. You’re gonna need it if you come to dinner tomorrow.”

“Why? ‘Cause Reese is gonna kill you for showing up with me instead of a real date?”

Anna sat up and gawked at him.

“What?” He cocked his chin. “This
is
Reese we’re talking about, right?”

“True. But how’d you know she doesn’t want me to bring you?”

The innocence in her eyes wedged guilt into his rib cage. “I hurt you when I left, Anna. The only one pretending I didn’t is you.”

She rubbed her foot but didn’t look away. “It’s in the past.”

“How can you be so forgiving?”

Her fingers stilled over her toes. “Guess our hearts have minds of their own.” Her faint smile gave way to a look of sobriety. “You don’t have to go with me, you know.”

He smoothed back the wisps of hair curling around her forehead. “I know.” Withdrawing his hand, Evan cleared his throat and turned on a playful tone. “But after all our escape routines, I have lots of practice acting, remember? I’ll play whatever role you need. It’ll be fine.”

“Right.” She lowered her chin and her voice. “Reese is a tough one to fool, though.”

No worse than himself.

He summoned a lighthearted composure and draped an arm around her. “How about you just focus on getting some sleep right now? Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

“I hope you’re right.”

You and me both
. But he couldn’t get caught up worrying about that yet. Tonight, he had other business to take care of. As soon as Anna fell asleep.

Chapter Fourteen

Restraint

Evan eased up from the couch and set a pillow in his place for Anna to rest on. He slid her glasses off, stretched a fleece blanket over her, and leaned down to press a light kiss to her temple.

The swelling on her lip had gone down, replaced with the beginning of a small scab he prayed wouldn’t leave a scar. She carried enough from life already.

He stalled in the open doorway and swept one more glance over the girl he’d do anything for.

In the stairwell, he locked the deadbolt with her key and pulled up Murphy’s number on his cell. Three rings went unanswered on his way down the stairs.

“It’s after midnight,” Murphy said. “You out on bat patrol or something?”

And Anna thought Evan always had jokes. Wait till she got to know Casanova. “You back in town yet?”

“Just crossed the border.”

“Good. Meet me at Brookfield Apartments in forty-five.”

“Why?”

Evan stopped in front of the glass exit door and surveyed the motionless street corner. “You’re the one who wanted to play Robin.”

An audible swell of intrigue built in Murphy’s pause. “I’m in.”

Good thing. Because Harris would want this clean and quiet. With Casanova there, Evan had a chance of not killing Painter.

Climbing into his Accord, he glanced from his stained tux shirt to the hoodie in the backseat. A quick thought of changing ended in a shrug. What was a little more blood? He had to get it dry cleaned anyway.

Evan pulled up to the curb in front of Megan’s apartment. No sign of the police. But he knew as well as Painter, the cops were nearby, still searching for him.

He pressed the lock button on his key fob while hustling up the staircase. At this hour, hopefully Megan was fast asleep. Still, he gently rapped a knuckle on the door.

It cracked open. A sliver of dim light cut into the darkness and released the sharp smell of neglect from inside. Dilated, watery eyes stared him up and down. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

Scoffing, Megan’s mom started to close the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

“It’s about Painter.”

She ran a stained sweatshirt sleeve under her runny nose and clutched her shaky arms to her stomach. “You here to give me cash to pay him? If not, you can leave. I don’t need any more problems.”

He’d almost forgotten she owed her dealer money. No wonder she looked like death. The poor girl was probably going through withdrawals.

Evan nudged the door open far enough to let himself in. “It’s past time you got this guy out of your life.”

A mix of anxiety and agitation twisted her features.

He scanned over the living room to a disheveled pile of mail on an end table. “Heather,” he read from the top envelope. “This isn’t just about you. Think of your little girl.”

Her goose-bump-covered arms unfurled and sagged to her sides. “Don’t talk to me like you know
a thing
about what it’s like to be a single parent in this neighborhood.”

“Maybe not, but I know what it’s like to live in Megan’s shoes, growing up around addiction. Never knowing what you’re coming home to and feeling helpless to change anything.”

Memories edged past his defenses. “I know what it’s like to call Social Services and find out your parent isn’t the only one who thinks you’re not worth their time.”

Slow, off-balance steps moved Heather backward. She averted her eyes but couldn’t mask the torment pouring through them.

He softened his voice. “Heather, don’t keep doing this.” He waved a hand over the collection of drained alcohol bottles, ashtrays, and empty syringes strewn across the room alongside Megan’s toys and clothes. He lifted up a grungy Barbie doll. “Please. Give her the life she deserves. The life you both do.”

Tears stormed her bottom lashes. Her legs gave way, and she folded onto a tattered armchair. “What am I supposed to do? This
is
my life.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He knelt beside her on the dingy carpet. “We can put Painter away. You can start over.”

Her chapped lips formed a hollow smile. “There’ll always be another dealer.”

“And there’ll always be a choice.” He couldn’t give her the courage to make the right one, only the encouragement to believe she could.

He rested a hand over her clammy fingers. “You’re almost there already. You just gotta fight a little longer. And I promise. You’re not in this alone.”

Heather buried her face in her hands. Evan sat back on his heels to give her space. Stillness hovered inside the rundown apartment, minutes passing.

Once her bony shoulders stopped shaking, she uncovered her bloodshot eyes, drew in a stabilizing breath, and fixed a determined gaze on him. “What do I have to do?”

He hung his head in a sigh of relief and retrieved his cell. “Tell me how to find Painter.”

With another long inhale, she grabbed a pen and jotted something down on the back of an envelope. “He stays in Englewood. Deals at Sherwood Park.”

That was all he needed. Evan tapped the info into his phone and jimmied the envelope into his pocket.

She grabbed his forearm as he rose. “What are you gonna do?”

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m gonna take care of you guys.” His focus gravitated toward Megan’s bedroom, his thoughts back to Anna. “All of you.” He hurried to the door.

“Wait.” Heather tottered up from the chair and clutched her stomach. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He dipped his chin. “You’re braver than you think you are.” His gaze slanted past her to the hallway. “Don’t lose sight of what’s worth living for.”

Still trembling from withdrawals, she brought her sleeve to her nose again and raised her head with what he hoped was the beginning of belief in herself. Nothing ahead would be easy. He knew it as much as she had to. But something broke in her spirit just now. He sensed it. And if he could play a small part in her road to recovery, he’d do what it took.

Outside, Evan hustled down the stairs and spotted Casanova’s Jeep. Right on time.

Murphy hopped out and gave Evan’s tux an impish once-over. “I thought Bruce Wayne only held up his cover in the daylight. Your party run a little longer than expected?”

Evan clapped him on the back on their way to his Accord. “Long story.”

He brought him up to speed on the ride to the park.

“So, how’s this gonna go down?” Murphy asked as Evan parked on a back street and killed the headlights.

“By the books as much as possible.” He couldn’t afford any mistakes. Evan stretched behind the seats for his camera bag. Something had told him to leave it in the car after his outing with Anna and Megan earlier. Now he knew why. He swapped lenses and scanned the park until he found Painter. “Bingo.”

If the loser had half a brain, he’d be lying low right now. But he was probably out here, licking his wounds after Anna showed him up. Again. Evan cracked a grin. She was one girl Painter shouldn’t have messed with.

With his hand cupped under the telephoto lens, Evan zoomed in to scope out the scene. Painter and a meth head, if he read the cues right, huddled in the shadows with two backup thugs standing guard.

Evan didn’t need to hear the conversation to tell it was getting heated. The junkie probably didn’t have the cash. Painter grabbed the guy by the shirt, brandished his gun, and got up in the dude’s face like he had with Evan at Megan’s apartment.

Evan shot a handful of photos.

“That the guy who took a swing at Anna?” Murphy already had his hand on the door handle, jaw clenched.

Evan couldn’t blame him. It took massive restraint to stay in the car right now. He nodded while pulling out his cell.

“We’re still canvassing the area,” Harris said on answering.

“Send all units to Sherwood Park. Ten minutes. Painter’s all yours.”

“How’d you find him?”

“Not important.” Evan scrolled through the shots he’d taken. “I just witnessed him pulling a gun on someone. We’ll hold him till you get here to make the arrest.”

“We got movement.” Murphy gestured to Painter and his boys hustling toward the left side of the park.

Evan pinned the phone to his shoulder, raised his camera again, and zoomed in on the Impala at the curb. “Make it a fast ten minutes, Harris.”

Sirens clipped on in the background, followed by tires screeching. “O’Riley, don’t do anything stu—”

Evan hung up and arched a brow at Casanova. “Ready?”

Murphy flexed his laced hands. “Let’s do this.”

They crept out of the car and slinked along the park’s perimeter. The stench of urine rose from the shadowy corners with crude reminders of the life drug addictions drove people to.

Not slowing down, he and Murphy came up behind Painter and the two guys lagging five paces back. Three against two was nothing, especially with these punks.

Evan motioned for Murphy to take the one on the left. “On my mark,” he mouthed. He signaled with three fingers. On the last, they each locked the guys in a sleeper hold until they went limp enough to drop.

Painter whipped around, gun raised. One shot. Two.
Pops
shuddered across the open yard. All that pride in waving his Glock around, and he couldn’t hit a target if his life depended on it.

Evan disarmed him and nailed a blow to his jaw. He twisted Painter’s arm around his back and butted him against the hood of the Impala, face down. “One busted lip for another.”

“Get off me.” He shoved back, and Evan ground his cheek harder into the hood. Just the thought of his hands anywhere near Anna sent a dangerous level of adrenaline through Evan’s veins.

“Easy.” Murphy cast Evan a warning glance and took over securing Painter.

Evan backed up, palms lifted. Probably better that way.

Sirens neared. Blue and white lights circled the shadows as a cruiser pulled up beside them. Harris and his partner got out with weapons drawn. Harris’s gaze swept the scene, skimming over the two guys down in the grass. “O’Riley, what the—?”

“All by the book, Corporal. Promise.” He jutted his chin at the Impala. “There are your stolen plates to go along with the illegal gun Painter’s been brandishing. Not to mention whatever drugs you find on him. Take your pick which charge to bust him for first.”

Harris holstered his gun and motioned for his partner to cuff Painter.

Murphy handed him over with an extra shove.

While Harris grabbed his shoulder mic to radio in the call, Murphy leaned over to Evan. “That was too easy, bro. Next time, you at least gotta let me wear a cape to make it interesting.”

Harris shook a blank face at them. “Just a couple of vigilantes. You got a bat signal I can use next time I need it?”

Murphy took one look at Evan and busted up. Like he needed any more ammo to keep riding this Batman joke he enjoyed way too much.

“Now that you mention it,” Murphy said. “It’s not a bad idea.”

Evan pushed him in the opposite direction and scowled at Harris. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Looks like you do that all on your own.” After his partner steered Painter into the back of the squad car, Harris pulled out a pen and notepad. “Which of you wants to give me their statement first?”

Murphy deferred to Evan. “You’re the one with the photos.”

“Photos? How did you . . . ?” Harris raised a hand. “On second thought, never mind.” He flipped open the pad. “Okay, give it to me from the top.”

His partner cuffed the other two guys, still on the ground, while Evan and Murphy each gave Harris the lowdown on what happened.

“Good work, O’Riley.” Harris planted a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “But do me a favor and leave the police work to me, huh, tough guy?”

Evan refrained from pointing out the PD had been looking for Painter for hours with no leads, while he found him in less than one. Didn’t matter. They had the perp in custody. And with a list of offenses to add to his record of priors, he likely wasn’t getting out for a while.

Evan wiped his brow across his sleeve. One threat down. Painter didn’t have the kind of loyalty to warrant worrying about who he left on the outside. Michelli on the other hand . . .

His men had been lying low, loitering in the distance. Why hadn’t they made any moves? Whatever game they were playing, it unnerved Evan. Something didn’t feel right.

He clenched Anna’s keys in his pocket and released them just as quickly. Even with her dad’s men staking out the apartment, he had to get back to her.

Once he wrapped things up with Harris and dropped Murphy off at his Jeep, Evan returned to Stonybrook. He tiptoed inside Anna’s apartment and knelt beside her. An unconscious rhythm moved her chest as she slept. Peaceful and safe. Unaware of the dangers stalking her as much as the ones stalking his heart.

He lifted a strand of hair from her cheek and left a kiss in its place. As much as he wanted to sleep with her in his arms, he took up post in the armchair facing the door. She still looked to him for safety, despite the ways he’d failed her in the past. Keeping her alive and in his life were the only things that mattered. He wouldn’t jeopardize that. Not now.