Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) (30 page)

Something jarred J.D. from his sleep. He sat up, listening. It was day, but the sun hung low, so it had to be almost six in the evening.

The noise echoed again. The sound of muffled footsteps. Someone was inside. Was it the cop? Had he yelled out “Police,” the way cops were supposed to do? Is that what woke him up?

Or was it Jax or one of his guys coming to kill him, like they’d tried to kill Carlos?

Listening, he waited for the footsteps to start down the hall. His heart pounded against his chest. Air felt trapped in his lungs.

He picked up his gun. It felt heavy in his hand. Heavy in his heart. If it was Jax, he was going to shoot, or he’d get shot. Even hating Jax for what he’d done to Carlos, the thought of ending anyone’s life didn’t feel right.

Glancing up, he stared at the angel.

Then, a knock sounded on the front door. Voices echoed. J.D. listened.

“Come on in,” a male voice said. “I was worried you wouldn’t find it.”

“No, we found it,” another male spoke. “This is my wife.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we found you two newlyweds a house.”

J.D. stood up. A real estate agent. And they were going to come in here and find him. With no furniture in the house, there was no place to hide. His hands started to shake. He tucked his gun into his pants and pulled his shirt over it. At least he wasn’t going to have to shoot anyone. But what would they do if they caught him?

Shifting his gaze to the window, he wondered if he could open it enough to get out. But the window had always been hard to open. Glancing at the door, he wondered if he could run down the hall and out the back door without them catching him.

He slowly inched closer to the door and saw one man’s back in the living room. Making it out in time would be hard. Again, he looked at the angel stain.
Can you help me out?

“Let me show you around,” the real estate agent said.

J.D. backed up against the wall. He had to do something.

Now!

“No,” a female voice spoke. “This isn’t anything like I want. Sorry. I think I liked the one off Cherry Street better. Can we go over there?”

“Don’t be sorry. Why waste our time looking if it doesn’t suit you?”

J.D. stood completely silent. Not breathing. He looked back up at the angel. Had that been a coincidence?

He heard the footsteps walk out and the click of the door being locked. Leaning against the wall, he tried taking deep breaths to stop his racing heart. Pulling his phone out, he checked the time. Another three hours had passed, and still no word from the cop.

Then he saw he’d gotten a text. Not from the cop, but from Moses. The message was short.
Carlos has woken up. The doctor thinks he’ll be okay.

Relief eased from his chest and tears collected in his eyes. He only had one friend, and the possibility of losing him hurt like hell.

Pushing his hand over his face, he decided he had to go see Carlos. He’d drive around the hospital and check for any of the gang’s cars before going inside. He’d be careful. He just wanted to tell Carlos he was sorry. Sorry that he’d gotten hurt and almost died because of him.

A couple hours later, J.D. drove around the hospital three times, up and down every row of the parking lot, making sure he didn’t see any of the gang’s cars. Sure, there was a chance he might miss one, but checking on Carlos made the risk worth it.

Wearing a baseball cap, the top pulled low over his face, and his hair tucked inside, he walked through the lobby. He kept his head down, but cut his gaze left and right looking for trouble and praying he didn’t find any.

If he did, he wondered if the angel would come to his aid again. Maybe he needed to be at his house for her to help him. As crazy as it sounded, he looked up at the ceiling as if he might spot an image here. Of course, only the white ceiling gleamed back.

He headed to the elevators and checked his phone to see what room number Moses had said Carlos was in. He got into the elevator, punched the button for the seventh floor. The door was about to close when a hand suddenly stuck between the closing elevator doors, causing an unexpected, abrupt halt.

Had Jax or one of the gang caught up with him?

• • •

“Everything okay?” Chloe asked in lieu of hello when her mom called.  Uncomfortable being naked in bed with a naked man, while talking to her mom, she sat up. She held up one finger to Cary, hoping he’d understand. Stealing the sheet to wrap around herself, she walked out of Cary’s bedroom and into the hall. They had made love and were still wrapped in each other’s arms when her phone rang.

“You said to call when I got in.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “I’m just a little worried about Nana.”

“I told you she was fine. And she is. I’m standing in her condo right now.” Her mom got quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Great,” Chloe insisted, but even to her own ears, it sounded too forced.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing,” Chloe said.

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve got that edge in your voice. You always got it when you were about to take a test in school.”

“I’m not in school anymore.”

“Yeah, but I’ll bet you are biting your nails about other things.” She paused, then asked, “How’s Cary?”

Her mom had hit the nail on the head and it stung going in. Chloe was worried. Though, thank goodness, she hadn’t resorted to biting her nails the way she had in high school. But in a way, it felt like a test. One minute she was thinking Cary was a playboy and only wanted sex, and the next he seemed . . . like someone who might be around for a while.

She really wanted him to be around. But she’d already made her bed.
I’m not looking for promises.

“He’s fine. You know, I can make a flight and be there in about five hours if you need me.”

“I know, and if I needed you, I’d tell you. Stay there and figure out this whole Cary thing. I liked him. He seems . . . genuine. And tell him I said hello.”

“I will.” Chloe hung up.

“You going to Florida?” Cary voice boomed behind her.

She turned around and Cary stood in the hall, naked and confident, without a smidgeon of modesty.  She tugged her sheet up, wishing she could borrow some of his poise.

“No. She says Nana’s doing fine. She’s going to call if she needs me.” Chloe clutched the sheet a little tighter.

“Good. I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

Yet?
How much should she let herself like this guy? How invested should she get?

“Does she know you’re staying with me?” he asked.

“I didn’t say it, but she said to tell you hello, so I think she knows.”

He smiled. “Good. It makes it easier.”

Makes what easier?
Before she could find a way to put that question out there, he added one of his own.

“Chinese or Italian?” he asked.

“What?”

“Food. It’s dinner time. And if you expect me to keep up this pace in the bedroom, I need food. There’re two really good restaurants that deliver. One’s Chinese and one’s Italian.”

She grinned. “Either one is fine.”

“No, come on, tell me.”

“And then you’ll tell me?” she asked.

“Tell you what?”

“Secrets,” she said. She wanted to know everything there was about Cary Stevens.

His smile lessened. “I thought we already did that.”

They had. She’d told him about Jerry and he’d told her about his ex-wife. But . . . “There has to be more,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “But let’s order first. So . . . Chinese or Italian?”

“Italian,” she said.

• • •

J.D. tucked his hand under his shirt to reach for his gun if he had to use it. But before the door opened, he realized the hand couldn’t belong to Jax or one of his gang. The hand, a little boney and splotched with age spots, reminded him of his grandmother’s hand.  He met the elderly woman’s gaze as she stepped inside. Her gray hair looked a little messy the way his grandmother’s had when she first got up in the morning. The volunteer wore a candy striper uniform and half of a smile.

He looked at the time on his phone. Almost eight at night. He looked back at her. “They have volunteers working this late?”

“I’m on call,” the woman said. “It seems nights are the busiest times. Why people don’t just stay put is beyond me.”

It felt as if she was talking about him. She turned and started punching the floor numbers. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

What the hell? She was like a kid who got pleasure out of being the button pusher. And now they were going to stop at every floor.
Are you senile?
The question almost rolled off his tongue, but he just shut his mouth. If she’d been his grandmother, he wouldn’t like it if someone were rude to her. And pointing out she had dementia was rude.

The elevator rose one floor. She stared at him as if waiting for him to say some smartass comment. When he didn’t, she smiled at him. “You’re a decent young man. I’ll see you around, hopefully not too soon. Oh, I hope your friend is doing well.”

He shook his head and watched her step out. She really did have dementia. She didn’t have a clue if he was decent or not. Then it hit him. How did she know he was here for a friend?

A good three minutes later, after the elevator opened on every floor, he finally arrived on the seventh floor. He stepped out and looked for the signs showing him which way to room seven twenty-three.

He turned one corner and saw Moses leaning against a wall. A very unhappy looking Moses. Had something happened? Was Carlos still doing okay?

Moses spotted him and his back stiffened. He met him halfway down the hall. “You shouldn’t be here now,” he said in a low voice.

“Why?” J.D. asked.

“A couple of guys from the gang were just here. I swear, you just missed them.”

“They didn’t get to Carlos again, did they?”

“No, but if I hadn’t been here and threatened to call the police, they would have. And if that male nurse hadn’t walked up, they might have tried to hurt me.”

“Shit,” J.D. said. “You should call the police.”

“And get Carlos arrested?”

“For what?” J.D. asked. “He wasn’t even there when they killed that guy.”

Moses shook his head. “What guy? Fuck! You’re talking murder? I just meant selling drugs.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “What is it with you two? Can’t you see how bad they are?”

“I do see. And that’s why they are after my ass, because I want out. And I’m sure Carlos is done with them, too.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they still aren’t going to kill you both.”

“I’m trying to do something about that, too.” He looked at the door. “Can I see Carlos?”

He nodded. “Fine, but then get yourself out of town. I’ve got Carlos’ back, but I can’t be responsible for two of you.”

“You don’t have to,” J.D. said. Other than Carlos, he hadn’t had anyone watching his back since his grandma died. He was getting used to not having anyone. He walked into Carlos’ hospital room.

When he saw his friend, his face bruised and swollen, his head shaved with a bandage wrapped around part of it, his gut cramped. He had a leg and one arm in a cast. Damn, he looked bad! J.D.’s chest filled with guilt. This was his fault.

Carlos lifted his head slightly off the pillow. J.D. thought he’d opened his eyes, but they were so swollen it was hard to tell.

“I’m sorry, man.”

His friend stared. “You gotta leave. Pablo and Ricky were just here.” His voice came out dry and sore.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, but they want you more than me.”

“Does it hurt?” J.D. asked, unable to stop looking at his friend’s battered face.

“Hell, yes, but they’ll do worse to you. Leave. And don’t go back to your grandmother’s place.”

“They know I’m staying there?” J.D. asked.

“I heard one of the guys say that he remembered your grandmother used to live somewhere on the North side of town. If they haven’t found out where it is yet, they will. Get out of town.”

J.D. looked back at the door and then moved closer to his friend’s bed. “I got a plan. Jax and them are gonna pay for this.”

“How? You can’t take them on. They are meaner than you.”

“I know, but I’m not going to. I’m gonna get the cops to do it.” If the cop would call him back. “I stole Pablo’s phone. Remember I told you I saw him videotaping right after Tommy was killed?”

“Why did you do that? Man, now they are really going to come after you.”

“Let them. I don’t care. As long as Jax and them pay for what they did to you and to Tommy, it’s okay.”

“Wait. You were there when that guy was shot. It won’t matter that you didn’t pull the trigger, the cops will put this on you, too.”

“I know,” J.D. said. “I deserve to pay for it."

“But they’ll kill you. You know how many members they got in prison.”

“I’ll deal with that then,” J.D. said, a whisper of fear passing over his heart. But he wasn’t going to back down. He couldn’t. He’d already called the cop.

Chapter Thirty-three

“Chocolate or vanilla?” Chloe asked.

“Chocolate. You?”

They were eating chicken parmesan and penne pasta with marinara sauce, while peppering each other with questions. As good as the food was, discovering bits and pieces of Cary’s life was better. While he’d slipped on a pair of jeans—minus underwear, she’d noted—he was shirtless. She dressed back in her jeans and T-shirt and now sat cross-legged on his bed, a plate of food in her lap.

Both Pooch and Cupcake were at the foot of the bed. Every few minutes, the dog would try to sneak up to Cary’s plate to check out his food. Cary would scold him, but then he’d give the dog a taste. He kept saying he was taking the dog back to his sister’s tomorrow, but she had a feeling Cary would crater.

He had a soft spot for animals. She had a soft spot for guys who liked animals.

“Vanilla,” she said. “Best childhood memory?” she asked.

“Camping at the Grand Canyon. The whole family. A year before my dad died.” He reached over and got a bite of her chicken.