I Got You, Babe (29 page)

John couldn’t believe how he felt right now—as if he’d die if he ever let her go. With all the other women he’d ever known, he’d started planning his escape almost from the first moment he touched them. Why was Renee so different? For the first time in his life, he wanted more than
right now
with a woman. How ironic was it that she was a woman who might not have a future to offer him?

When she had first told him about her juvenile record, his belief in her innocence had wavered. But her story about her time in juvenile lockup and her “scared straight” experience rang true. Those kinds of things were very effective with some kids, and clearly they had worked with Renee. They had terrified her so much, in fact, that he was sure she couldn’t possibly have committed that robbery.

Had it terrified her enough that she’d still consider running?

The moment that thought entered his mind, he felt a jolt of apprehension.
No.
Surely she wouldn’t do that. Surely after what they’d shared tonight, she’d trust him to help her.

But what if he couldn’t help her? What if she realized that the possibility of his amassing enough evidence to give her a chance with a jury was very small? What then?

Just the idea of going back to a place like that terrifies me,
she’d told him earlier, her eyes awash with dread, as if she were reliving every moment of the experience she’d had as a teenager.
I’ll do anything to stay out of jail, John. Anything.”
A terrible feeling of foreboding overcame him. If he closed his eyes and went to sleep right now, would that be the last time he ever saw her? Would he wake up to find the bed beside him empty?

He couldn’t let that happen. No matter what he had to do, he couldn’t let that happen.

Chapter 14

R
enee lay in John’s arms, in complete and total awe of what she’d just experienced. She’d never felt such an assault on her emotions, never believed for one moment that making love could be anything like what they’d just shared. Lying here with him now, she could almost forget the awful situation she faced and pretend, just for a little while, that everything was absolutely normal in their lives, that they were free to explore just how far a relationship between them could go.

God, how she wanted that.

Maybe it would happen. He was going to help her. Already he’d discovered that the testimony of the robbery victim could be discredited. What other evidence could he discover that might lead a jury to find her innocent? She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly, feeling her worries slip away. With John on her side, she could almost allow herself to believe that everything was going to be all right.

She laid her hand against his chest and felt its rise and fall, soft and measured, and she wondered for a moment whether he’d fallen asleep.

“John?” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“No. I’m not asleep.”

A long silence ensued. She felt a twinge of apprehension, then decided maybe he was just tired. She certainly was. What the walk out of that forest hadn’t taken out of her, making love with him had.

Then she realized how tense he seemed. Or angry. Or both.

She rose on one elbow and looked down at him. He closed his eyes and looked away.

Oh, God.
She’d done something wrong. But what?

“John? What’s the matter?”

He didn’t respond. She felt a rush of panic. This was just what she’d been afraid of. Somehow she’d disappointed him.

All at once it was as if her rose-colored glasses had been ripped off, and she was looking at their lovemaking in an entirely different light. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. He’d given her so much, and she’d responded like some kind of self-centered nymphomaniac, giving him next to nothing in return.

“I’m sorry, John,” she said, feeling as if she were on the verge of tears. “It’ll be better next time. I promise.”

Instantly she knew she’d said the wrong thing. He’d never said there would be a next time. Maybe she’d made too much out of this. Maybe he had no intention—

“Better?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

“It’s like I told you. I-I don’t know what to do...you know, how to please a man. The way you touched me...I know I should have done something for you, but I just didn’t know—”

“Renee.”

She stopped and stared at him. He rested his palm against her face, stroking it with his thumb.

“It couldn’t have been any better, sweetheart. I enjoyed every minute of it, and I’d do it a thousand times more if I could.”

“Then what?”

He sighed softly, his hand falling away from her face. “You know there’s a chance I’ll never find enough evidence to help you.”

Renee closed her eyes. “Please don’t talk about that now.
Please

“We have to.”

No.
She didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to slap her hands over her ears and beg him to let at least this night pass without reminding her of the terrible situation that had brought them together. Just for tonight, she wanted to pretend—

“I just want to make sure you understand that the time will come when I’ve done all I can. You’ll have to turn yourself in and hope for the best. Are you going to be able to do that?”

All at once Renee realized she’d been deluding herself. She’d let herself assume that as long as John was on her side, everything was going to be okay, but now he sounded so unsure of things that she felt apprehensive all over again. All at once the cold, hard reality of the situation struck her—the reality she didn’t want to face: she could still end up in prison.
If
she turned herself in.

“I-I don’t know, John. If the time come… She exhaled, shaking her head. “I just don’t know.” Then she looked at him hopefully. “But I don’t think it’s going to come to that. We’ll find some evidence. I know we will. Maybe we’ll even find the person who did it. You say it’s not likely, but it’s possible, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I thought you were going to help me!”

“I am! But there’s only so much—”

“Don’t you understand? I can’t go to prison, John. I just can’t!”

“Are you telling me you’d run again?”

She swallowed hard, her voice coming out in a raspy whisper. “Are you telling me you’d stop me?”

As soon as she said the words, the air between them filled with tension, and silence stretched on endlessly as she waited for his denial. It never came. Instead, he turned and pulled the handcuffs off the nightstand.

At first her sex-numbed brain didn’t comprehend what was happening. Then all at once the fragile cocoon of warmth and safety she’d felt only moments before shattered into a million pieces.

She sat up suddenly. He reached for her wrist, but she yanked her arm away.

“After all this?” she shouted. “After everything that’s happened between us tonight, you’re handcuffing me back to the bed?”

“It’s for your own good.”

The betrayal cut right to Renee’s soul. “It’s because I told you about my juvenile record, isn’t it? Now you think I really
did
commit that robbery!”

“No. I don’t think that at all.”

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t told you!”

“Listen to me, sweetheart. I know now just how scared you are of going to prison, and why you’re scared. I can’t say for sure you won’t run, not because you’re guilty, but because you’re afraid, but if you do, your life will be over. Do you understand that?”

“I’m not going to run! I swear I’m not!”

He took hold of her wrist.

“Don’t do this to me, John. Don’t do it!”

She tried to yank her wrist free, but he held it tightly.

“I trusted you!”

“You can still trust me.”

“Like
hell
I can!”

“Renee,” he said softly. “Please.”

She pulled hard against him, her teeth gritted. He merely held her in a persistent grip until she was forced to stop fighting him. The moment she relaxed, he pulled her arm over and snapped the cuff around her wrist. Tears burned behind her eyes.

“Damn you!”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if waiting for the insult to pass over him, then opened them again. “I just don’t want to wake up and find you gone.”

Then, to her surprise, he held up his own wrist and snapped the other cuff around it.

“Just stay with me tonight, Renee, and we’ll get through this somehow. I promise.”

I promise.
Why was he making promises? Didn’t he know that the minute he reached for those handcuffs, she’d stopped believing a word he said?
Stay with me.
As if she had a choice in the matter?

He rested his head back down on the pillow. Still sitting up against the headboard, she yanked the covers up over her naked body and turned abruptly away from him.

“Renee,” he whispered. “Lie down.”

“Go to hell.”

A long silence passed between them. She didn’t look over at him, but she knew he was still awake. How could he do this to her?

“I know you don’t understand,” he murmured. “But I’m doing this because I care about you.”

“No. You’re doing this because you’re a cop who doesn’t believe people can change.”

“If that were true, you’d be on your way to jail right now.”

Renee fought her tears tenaciously, determined to show no more weakness in front of him. She’d bared her very soul to him, and clearly that meant nothing. Suddenly she felt as if they were a million miles apart, when only a few moments ago she’d felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to a man before.

Finally she lay down, but only because sitting up all night wasn’t an option. He reached for her. She flinched and moved away to the extent the handcuffs would allow. He expelled a breath of frustration.

“Just trust me,” he whispered. “Please.”

“I did trust you, John. Right up to the time you snapped this cuff on my wrist.” She paused. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Aren’t they
ever
going to leave?” Paula whispered to Tom as she pulled yet another plate of nachos out of the microwave. “I thought they were going home after the game. It’s nearly nine o’clock!”

Tom sighed. “Do you want me to say something to Steve?”

She knew Tom would do that, if it was what she really wanted. But as usual, guilt set in. Steve and Rhonda were about to drive her nuts, but he was Tom’s cousin. It was the one thing—the
only
thing—that she and Tom had ever disagreed about. She’d tried to be understanding, though, knowing that Steve was the only family Tom had.

Actually, Steve wasn’t so bad. It was his cheap blond bimbo who drove her nuts.

Paula sighed. “No. It’s okay. How much longer could they possibly stay, anyway?”

“Oh, look!” Rhonda squealed from the living room. “
The Creature from the Black Lagoon
is on! It’ll be so
cool
on the big-screen TV!”

Oh, God.

Paula had the sudden feeling that Steve and Rhonda were never going to leave her apartment, that they’d be here through the rest of eternity, flopping on her sofa, eating her food, and hogging her TV remote. Occasionally Rhonda would get up to head to the bathroom, where she’d blot that fire-red lipstick of hers with toilet paper and leave it lying on the counter, then envelop herself in a fog of that cheap perfume she wore. Then she’d come back out, flop onto the sofa, and start the process all over again.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “Do you think you can put up with them a little while longer?”

Paula sighed with resignation. “Sure. I love
The Creature from the Black Lagoon.
Really.”

Tom smiled. “You’re a really bad liar. But I love you for it.” She picked up the plateful of nachos and they went back into the living room.

Steve was sprawled out on the sofa beside Rhonda. He was almost as handsome as Tom, but not quite, his hair more sandy than blond, his features not as sharply defined. But when it came to personality, they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Steve was quiet and brooding, while Tom was upbeat and friendly. Still, Steve was a handsome man, who would have been even more handsome if not for the bruise on the side of his face, the laceration on his cheek, and the split lip. When Tom asked him how it had happened, he’d said he’d gotten smacked around trying to help break up yet another bar fight. Paula had wanted to scream. If he had any pride at all, he’d be working somewhere nice instead of in those disreputable clubs. Then again, if he had any pride at all, he’d be dating somebody besides Rhonda.

“Here you go,” Paula said, setting the plate down on the coffee table with a forced smile. “More nachos.”

Rhonda flicked her coarse, pseudo-blond hair over her shoulder and looked down at the plate, huffing with disgust. “Did you
have
to put beans on them this time?”

Paula stood very still. “I didn’t know you didn’t like beans.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Come on, Rhonda,” Steve said, his gaze never leaving the TV screen. “You’re too picky. Just eat the damned nachos.” She gave him a dramatic eye roll. “Fine. I’ll eat them.” She picked up a nacho, then proceeded to disengage every single bean from it, leaving them in a pile on the plate, before stuffing the half-naked nacho into her mouth.

Incensed, Paula turned around and went back into the kitchen, wondering if she’d be a bad hostess if she shoved every one of those beans up Rhonda’s nose.

Tom followed, holding up his palms. “I know. She’s a pain in the ass. But I think a lot of it is the withdrawal, you know? Steve says she’s going cold turkey. Once she gets off the stuff—”

“Gets off it? Are you kidding? She did a line of coke in my bathroom ten minutes ago!”

Tom slumped with resignation. “Okay. So maybe it’s the coke that makes her cranky.”

“Breathing makes her cranky!”

“Just try to tolerate her, okay? Steve will come to his senses pretty soon, and he’ll dump her. I know he will.”