Breaking the Rules (52 page)

“Yo, Ben,” he said as he bent down to look. He found himself face-to-face not with a face, but with one of the sofa pillows. He pulled the covers back and, hell yeah, it was classic high jinks from overnight camp. Ben had put pillows beneath his blankets to make it look as if he were in bed, asleep.

Son of a bitch.

Izzy slapped on the light both in the entryway and in the kitchen, but the kid had definitely left the apartment. In fact, he’d left behind a note on the kitchen table.

Ran to the drugstore on the corner. Be right back
.

Son
of a bitch.

“Eden!” Izzy grabbed his cargo shorts, and on his way back to the
bathroom, he hammered on the bedroom door. “I know this is bad timing, but Ben’s gone AWOL.”

She opened the door immediately, eyes red, and he thrust the note at her, then headed into the bathroom, stepping into his shorts as he went.

This time, he had no problem with the mechanics of taking a leak.

And also because, this time, he’d left the door open, it wasn’t
that
big a surprise when Eden came in, too, to splash water on her blotchy face.

“Do you think he left because he heard us fighting?” she asked as she dried herself on one of her faded pink towels.

“I don’t know,” Izzy said as he flushed and zipped, moving past her into the living room to jam his feet into his boots. “But I’ll ask him when I find him.
After
I kick his ass.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t kick his ass until
I
kick his ass first,” Eden said, hopping as she slipped her feet into her sneakers, even as she fastened the button on her cutoff shorts and stuck a baseball cap onto her head. She scooped up both her cell phone and her keys and was out the door before Izzy.

Jenn wasn’t sure which woke her up—the sound of Danny’s cell phone ringing in the darkness, shrill and persistent, or his whispering, “Shit, shit, shit …” as he tried to pull his arm out from beneath her without waking her.

But he couldn’t find his phone and he let loose with a whole string of creative sailor words—all sotto voce—until she told him, “Your pants are over the back of that chair …? By the window …?” as she sat up, turned on the light, and reached for her glasses.

“Damn it!” he said as the moment he dug his phone from his pants pocket, it stopped ringing. He turned to look at her. “God, baby, I’m
so
sorry that woke you.”

“It’s all right,” she said, because there were plenty of bad things one could find when turning on the light in the middle of the night. Her naked new husband was not one of them. “I know you’re not supposed to turn off your cell phone, but … Was that … work?”

She knew that, as a Navy SEAL, when he got the call, he had to go.

“No,” he said. “I’m not … It would have to be World War Three for them to call me in while I’m out on medical leave.” He shook his head as he glanced down at his phone, then looked back at her, trepidation in his eyes. “This is a different World War Three. That was my mother.”

Jenn glanced over at the clock on the hotel bedside table to find that it read 1:06. What kind of mother returned her son’s phone call after one o’clock in the morning? And okay, maybe that was unfair. Maybe a mother who was used to her son being in exotic time zones would call whenever she could, hoping he’d be available. Plus, the messages he’d left
had
stressed how urgent it was that she call him immediately …

“You could call her right back,” she suggested.

Danny nodded, looking down at the phone somewhat expectantly. “I could,” he said. “But I’m waiting to see if …”

The phone beeped.

“Jackpot,” Dan said. “She left a message.” He dialed his voice mail as he came over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I know this is probably reading as really cowardly but—”

“Baby, you know I don’t think that,” Jenn told him.

He put his hand on her foot, holding on to her through the blanket as if he needed that contact as he listened to Ivette’s message. Jenn couldn’t hear what his mother said, but he made a face as he listened, then winced again and said, “Jesus,” as he hung up.

“I gotta call Zanella,” he said, already redialing his phone. “Apparently Ivette didn’t lose her phone, it just ran out of juice and she didn’t have her charger. She’s home now and …”

Izzy must’ve picked up—no doubt thrilled to be awakened at this ungodly hour—as Danny said, “Yeah, Z, it’s Gillman. Sorry to wake
you, man, but I just got a call from Ivette. She’s back and she left a message saying that Greg’s got a bender going—she doesn’t sound all that sober herself—but she said he’s threatening to go over to Eden’s to get Ben and …” He paused, then replied, “Yeah. Apparently CPS contacted them and Greg went bullshit. I don’t know how he did it, but he found out where Eden’s been living and …” Another pause and Dan’s body language changed, and his voice went up a full octave. “What the hell?
When
?”

He looked at Jenn, and put his phone on speaker, so she could hear what Izzy was saying.

“… Eed and I were just having an argument about whether or not to call you. We really don’t know when he left the apartment, but we’re pretty sure he never made it to the CVS. The clerk there’s been on all night, working the register by the door. He says he didn’t see Ben come in.”

“Hang on,” Jenn said. “Wait. Are you saying that—”

“Ben’s gone,” Dan finished for her grimly.

“Eden’s spitting fire,” Izzy reported. “She’s ready to go grab Greg by the balls and twist ’em off …”

“Yeah, well, tell her to hang on,” Dan said, “because from what Ivette said, Greg’s only in the nefarious plotting stages and—”

“I don’t think she’s going to buy it,” Izzy said. “Ivette isn’t exactly the most trusted source in news. Besides, there’s no saying that Greg didn’t already call the posse from Crossroads and … Seriously, bro, I’m not going to be able to stop her from going over there. She’s already starting to walk it, and, well … I thought you might want to be there for the impending family reunion. I know the timing sucks, wedding night and all, but—”

“It’s okay. We’ll meet you over there,” Jenn said as she got out of bed and started searching for her underwear.

“Thanks, your bride-ness,” Izzy said. “But, Danbo? I haven’t said anything to Eden yet because I didn’t want to freak her out, you know,
more
than she’s already freaking out? But I keep thinking that this might not be Greg. Eden’s address was also on that police report that
got filed tonight. If the goon squad who’s after Neesha has someone in the local PD in their pocket? They could’ve been watching the place. And when Ben went out for his little late-night walk? He could’ve walked right into their hands. And if they think he knows where Neesha is …?” He exhaled loudly, his breath making a rushing sound against his phone’s microphone. “Sorry to be going all
Charlie’s Angels
episode on you—you know, heavy with the overblown drama with the diabetic kid being tortured for information he doesn’t have—but I already went back to the apartment and got Greg’s weapon. Just in case. I’m locking it in the trunk for now, because guns and Greg don’t mix, but I wanted you to be aware of what I’m thinking. That maybe we should ramp it up to DefCon three or even two. Shit, I say that and it sounds nuts, but every instinct in my body is screaming that we shouldn’t leave Jenni or Eden alone at the apartment until we really figure out what’s up.”

“I hear you,” Dan told him as he watched Jenn hang up her rented wedding gown and slip it into the plastic garment bag that the Fudds had given her. “And crazy or not, I agree. Maybe you should bring Eden over here, to the hotel, while we go talk to Greg and Ivette.”

“Yeeeeah,” Izzy said, drawing out the word. “That’s not going to happen. Look, I gotta go chase after her. See you in about fifteen?”

“I’ll be there.” As Danny ended the call, Jenn glanced over to find him looking at her, as she finished putting on the clothes she’d been wearing before they’d gotten married.

I’ll
, he’d said.

“No,” she told him. “Nope. I
won’t
stay here, so don’t even bother suggesting it. There’s no way I’m letting you attend
that
circus parade on your own. Nuh-uh. No way. Not a chance in hell, Gillman. Wear your uniform, by the way. Full-on white power ranger—in case it gets noisy and the police show up.”

Dan smiled at her, but it was rueful. “In case?” he repeated. “I think you mean
when
. This is really going to suck.”

“It’s nothing that we can’t handle.”

He kissed her—hard—before he went past her to find his shirt and
shoes. “Circus parade is a good way to describe it. In the rain, with a serious outbreak of diarrhea among the elephants, a squadron of evil clowns, and a lion or two on the loose.” He paused to look at her. “Still sure you want to go?”

“Positive,” she told him. “Evil clowns? Can’t wait. Throw in Greg, the dancing douchebag, and some cotton candy … I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He laughed as he tied his shoes. “I love it when you say
douchebag
.”

“I know.” Jenn smiled back at him as she gave up trying to make her hair look as if she hadn’t just gotten out of bed. Instead, she simply pulled it back into a ponytail. “Hey, I’ll make a deal with you. Make it through this without killing anyone, and when we get back here?” She paused dramatically. “I’ll let you be on top.”

He laughed, but then asked, “You really think we’re coming back here?” Because, in silent agreement, they’d gathered up all of their things.

“A woman can dream, can’t she?” Jenn hoisted the wedding gown over her shoulder as she smiled at him and led the way out the door.

I
f someone had designed a level of hell especially for Eden, this would be it.

Stuck in a car with a man who’d just announced that he was leaving, heading toward a showdown with her jellyfish of a mother and ugly-mean dick of a stepfather, anxious that Dan was going to blame her for losing track of their little brother, and worried sick about Ben.

Izzy broke the strained silence. “I didn’t think to check Ben’s blood-sugar-meter thing before we left the apartment. You know, to see when he did his last reading.” He glanced at Eden. “Did you?”

She shook her head at yet another fail. “No.”

“How often does he need to do that, you know, check his insulin levels?”

“Before meals,” she recited, “before things like tests at school, before driving—although he doesn’t drive yet, before and after strenuous physical activity, in times of high stress, or if he’s just feeling wonky.”

“So … Not so much before running out to the store.”

Eden stared at the road. “Nope. And especially not if he left quickly—to escape the screaming.”

Izzy made an exasperated sound. “We weren’t screaming.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t know that we weren’t going to start—did he.”

Izzy sighed. “Eden—”

“Chht!” she said, making the hissing sound that the Dog Whisperer used on his TV show, to discipline an unruly animal.

“I don’t—”

“Chht!”

He had the audacity to laugh. “Well,
that’s
fucking productive.”

She couldn’t let that one go. “Productive? There’s no more
productive
. You’re leaving. You’re done. And that’s fine. That’s
great
, actually. I’m glad you’re finally being honest with me. But what I
don’t
get is why you’re still here. In fact, you should just drop me off and go.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

Eden turned to face him. “Why?” she asked hotly. “Because with Ben gone, I suddenly ‘need’ you again? According to
your
definition—forget about what
I
really feel, what
I
really need! Because I couldn’t possibly be sincere or honest. I couldn’t possibly be anything but mercenary. If Ben’s in trouble, I need you, but if not, I don’t, so get lost so I can have my
freedom
to go screw an entire football team!”

“That’s not what I meant,” he argued.

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “Because it sure sounded like that to me. And why do
you
get to decide when I do or don’t need you, anyway? Why does it have to be life or death, if I need you or I don’t? Why can’t I just … 
need
you—on an average, I don’t know, Saturday morning, when the sun is shining and the biggest challenge is deciding whether to go to the beach or the park for a bike ride? Why can’t I need you just to make the sun shine a little more brightly or to make the sky be a little more blue?”

Izzy glanced at her again, his face somber and mysterious in the glow from the dashboard, as he pulled up in front of Greg and Ivette’s house.

And Lord, Eden’s stomach twisted, because she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to see her mother, to watch as her lips tightened disapprovingly. And wasn’t
that
covered in irony—the fact that Ivette could disapprove of
anyone
, considering her own track record?

Eden wanted to throw herself into Izzy’s arms and beg him to drive away, to just go—anywhere but here.

But it was possible that Ben was in that house or worse—that Greg had had him picked up by the god squad—lowercase
g
on
god
, because any so-called god who approved of those idiots’ decidedly non-Christian actions didn’t deserve the respect that came with a capital letter.

Besides, Izzy had been adamant that he didn’t want her throwing herself at him again, for any purpose. So she folded her arms across her chest and held on to herself instead. She could do this. She
had
to do this …

Over in the driver’s seat, Izzy cleared his throat after her little outburst. “You really expect me to believe—”

“No,” Eden said, cutting him off. “I don’t expect
you
to believe anything I say. You’ve made it more than clear that you don’t trust me, and maybe I deserve that. Maybe I earned it. And maybe you won’t ever love me—maybe you can’t. Maybe it’s entirely my fault, maybe I broke that in you, too. But you are
not allowed
to tell me that I don’t love you. You can reject it. You can discount it. You can be a total dickweed and laugh in my face and mock me for it. But you
cannot
tell me that I don’t feel what I feel.”