Outside the Lines (22 page)

I hack off a hunk of beef and cram it in my mouth, surprised at how hungry I am. Then I realize I haven't eaten anything since the breakfast I picked at before Adri came over. “I saw that Oliver Savoca took you to your premiere after we split.”

She gives me a sly look out from under long lashes. “You're changing the subject.”

“Not really.” I'm just preparing myself for what comes next—a bloodbath in the streets of Chicago.

“He was just a placeholder.” She leans back and twirls a finger into the damp ends of her hair. “He looked good on my arm, but he was way too serious. Everything he did felt like part of some bigger strategy, you know?”

I'm sure she wasn't imagining that. Oliver is as ruthless as any of us, but he's known for his cunning and caution. I'd never say it to Sophie's face, but it's not beyond the realm of possibility he was only with her because he thought she might have useful information about me. Fucking information out of women is one of his wider-known tactics. The guy's a douche. “Where does he like to hang out?”

She shrugs. “He likes Giovanni's for dinner, and Trip for clubbing.” She tucks a leg under her and pulls a plate with a massive hamburger and fries in front of herself. She takes three enormous bites of the burger, then pours some catsup on her plate and dips a fry. “So, now you know the sorry state of my love life. Is there anyone special in yours?”

I keep eating, intending to ignore her question. That's all the answer she needs.

Her eyebrows lift. “Who is she? Anyone I know?”

I can't stop myself from laughing out loud. “Definitely no.”

“So she's someone you met on the job?” she asks with a wave at my suit.

I take another bite of steak. “What is this, twenty questions?”

She tilts her head at me. “I want to know what kind of woman it takes to twist the unflappable Robby Delgado's heart into a knot.”

I look at her a long second and decide there's no harm in telling her. “She's a schoolteacher.”

She quirks a sardonic half smile. “Do you like to play school, Robby? Does she spank you?”

“Subject's closed.” I knock back the wine and polish off my steak, even though I've lost my appetite.

“Fine, so answer my other question.” She rests an elbow on the table and props her cheek in her hand. “Tell me how this happened.”

I lean back, take a deep breath. “I needed a little time to regroup after things went bad in Chicago. But I'm going back.”

Everyone knows the Delgado empire was paid for in blood. I'm pretty sure that's part of the lure for most women. I'm a real-life bad boy. But, like most people, Sophie has no idea how deep that river of blood runs.

Her expression takes a sudden shift from cynical to concerned. “Everything's . . . okay?”

I nod. “It will be.”

She picks my hand up off the table and holds it. Her skin is warm and soft and does absolutely nothing for me. “I always worried about you.”

“I'll be fine.”

She pushes out of her seat, moves around the table, stops next to my chair. Her fingers brush down the side of my face, and her hair sweeps over me just before the drops a kiss on my cheekbone. “I still worry about you,” she whispers in my ear.

I stand and pace to the window.

She comes up behind me and hooks her fingers into the lapels of my suit jacket. I let her slide it off my shoulders. “I think you should join me in my room tonight.”

I close my eyes, and my jaw tightens.

“We were good together, Robby. No one else has ever done to me the things you did. I miss you.”

I pull a breath to steel my nerves. “I can't.”

Her hands brush over me as she circles and stops right in front of me, forcing me to see her. Her fingertip traces the lines of my face. “I just want you tonight. I'm not asking for forever.”

I don't stop her as she pulls off my tie and unbuckles my shoulder holster, dropping my Glock onto the armchair. She unbuttons my shirt and pulls her T-shirt over her head.

There's a reason she's a movie star; she's all woman. She's long and lean with full round breasts and tight red nipples that are just begging to be sucked. She presses against me, and her hand finds my package. “You're the best I've ever had, Robby,” she purrs.

Adri's taste, her scent, how it felt to be inside of her flood my senses. I close my eyes and feel her against me, the only woman I'll ever want—the woman who ruined me for all others.

Sophie's lips brush over my pecs, and her tongue flicks my nipple as she slides my shirt off my shoulders. Against my will, my cock responds. I tip my head back as she unbuckles my belt and works the fly of my slacks, pressing her hand against my growing hard-on. She takes her time kissing lower, down my abs, until she's on her knees in front of me.

I look down, see blond waves loose over ivory shoulders. I stiffen for her.

She tugs at the waistband of my underwear. “I'm going to show this bad boy how much I've missed him.”

I grasp handfuls of her silky hair. Her gaze lifts to mine, and everything comes into focus. Auburn hair, not blond. Green eyes, not blue.

The cyclone inside me rips its way out in a growl. The next second I'm across the room. I twist the top off the Tanqueray with a shaking hand and take a long swig directly from the bottle. The burn is real, something I can grasp onto, and it helps calm the storm. I set the bottle down and turn to face her. “I said I can't.”

Her eyes flick to my cock and she trails her fingertips along the curve of her breast. “Your body says different, Robby.”

I take another swig of gin and set the bottle down. “Go to bed, Sophie. I'll see you in the morning.”

Her expression becomes wounded. “You're not the same guy.”

She's right. I never would have turned down a good fuck back in Chicago. My heart kicks in my chest when it hits me why I'm turning it down now. “I fell in love.”

She moves closer and her expression softens, her green eyes piercing mine. “I was in love once.” My jaw tightens as she lifts a hand and strokes a finger down my chest. She moves past me, looks over her shoulder at me when she reaches her bedroom door. “I won't tell anyone where you are. Despite what you might think, I'm glad you're okay. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you.”

Then she's gone.

*   *   *

Sophie has a late-morning interview at a Tampa news station. We barely talk in the suite or in the car. When David drops her at the airport, she stretches up onto her tiptoes, and her lips brush my cheek on the way to my ear.

“Be safe,” she whispers.

I stand in the terminal after she clears security, staring at the flight schedule. There are two flights to Chicago leaving in the next ninety minutes.

“Let's blow this clambake,” David says, heading for the door.

“Go ahead without me,” I tell him, deciding on the three o'clock flight.

“What?” he asks with a bemused grin. “You're going to walk back?”

“I've got somewhere to be.” I turn for the ticket counter.

“And where the fuck is that?” he yells after me.

I ignore him and step up to the desk. The ticket agent grimaces when she tells me there are only first-class seats available. I buy my ticket and check my duffel. David's still there when I pass by on the way to security.

“Tell Elaine thanks for the shot,” I say, “but it just wasn't my thing.”

He squints at me in confusion. “You're serious?”

“As a heart attack,” I answer, already past him.

“You're one seriously fucked-up character,” he says to my back. “But if you stuck it to that actress last night, you're smart to get your mangy ass out of Dodge before Elaine gets her hands on you.”

I flip him off without turning around, then toss my phone into the trash on the way into security. With my Glock checked in my duffel, I'm through in no time. The PA is calling for final boarding of my flight just as I make the gate. I pull the cash from my wallet and toss the rest before boarding. I can't risk anyone in Chicago being able to trace me back here.

When I settle into my seat, the flight attendant comes by our row and takes an empty glass from the guy next to me. “We're just getting ready to close the cabin doors for departure, but I'll be back as soon as we're in the air for your drink order.”

I nod and she heads up front. She pulls the door closed, then picks up the phone on the wall and tells the passengers to power down their laptops.

When she comes back for my drink order, I swallow the panic snaking up my throat with a double G and T. Panic that has nothing to do with what I'll find in Chicago, and everything to do with the fact that I'm leaving the only real thing I've ever had behind.

*   *   *

It's dusk when my flight lands at O'Hare. I grab my duffel off the luggage carousel, find a taxi at the curb. I tell the driver take me to the Bienville. We creep through city traffic and when we reach my family's hotel, he drops me at the turnout. I walk to the edge of the sidewalk and stare out into the road, at the last place my mother was alive.

The night goes blurry as the memory invades my head.

The waiter brought the birthday cake. We sang “Happy Birthday.” Mom blew out all the candles on the first try, but wouldn't tell us what she'd wished for.

Pop pulling the small box from his pocket, handing it to Mom as the waiter poured champagne. Sherm's toothy grin as he took the box from Mom and tore off the wrappings. Pop clasping the chain around Mom's neck. The heavy gold pendant with five shimmering birthstones
:
topaz, emerald, two rubies, and a diamond
.

It's funny the little things you remember. Pop helped Mom on with her coat. She was holding Sherm's hand on the sidewalk, but Lee grabbed his other hand and towed him along as we all crossed the street behind Pop, Mom lagging a little, admiring the pendant.

The car came out of nowhere.

I finger the topaz in the thick band of my ring—my birthstone from the pendant Pop gave Mom that night. “Hey, Mom. Give me a sign here.”

I wait silently for an answer. I need her to tell me what I'm doing is right. Maybe her whisper on the wind, or just the feel of her spirit.

Nothing.

It's been a long time since I felt her. I know it's because she's ashamed of what I've become. She knew both sides of Pop better than anyone, but she always made sure his kids only saw the good in him. It wasn't until she was gone and there was no filter that we saw what she'd tried to protect us from.

Pop went off the deep end after the love of his life was murdered right in front of him. His vendetta ate him alive until all that was left of the man he'd been was his need for revenge. Is that who I am now? A shell of who she wanted me to be?

Love makes you vulnerable
.

Pop's words echo through my mind. I wonder if he only realized that after he lost Mom. But after everything with Adri, her father, I see it clearly.

I pull off my ring, shove it in my pocket, and head inside. There's a moment of relief when I don't recognize anyone at the desk. I book a corner suite on the top floor indefinitely, order up a bottle of Tanqueray, then sit at the desk in the window looking out over my city sprawled below and clean my Glock.

Tomorrow, it starts.

Adri

I was going to call in sick today. The thought of facing Sherm, and therefore Rob, was just too painful. But the school board is still deciding on whether I get to keep this job. It's between me and an English teacher at the high school.

So I'm here, watching out my window for him.

But the car that pulls up to drop Sherm off isn't a blue Lumina. It's his sister's Beetle. I can't even describe the feeling as she walks him up the sidewalk. It's everything at once. Disappointment and relief, anger and regret, sorrow and chagrin.

I'm furious with Rob for treating me the way he did. But I'm also furious with myself for not telling him. I was embarrassed. I was afraid if he knew how inexperienced I was, he'd think of me differently. I liked the hungry way he looked at me. I liked the way his desire made me feel sexy and dangerous—words I never in my wildest dreams thought would describe me. I loved the way his touch brought me alive in a way I'd never been before. I knew he wasn't new at this, and I didn't want him to change his mind about being with me. So I manipulated him.

And now I need to make it right, because what I said to Dad is true. I've only known him for two and a half months, but I know beyond any doubt that I'm in love with him. I can't leave it like this. We have to talk this out.

Lee slips through the door with Sherm, and instantly, I know something's wrong. The few times I've seen her, she's been so put together: designer clothes, makeup just so, hair tidy. Today she's in a wrinkled flannel sleep shirt over old jeans and fuzzy slippers, with what looks like yesterday's makeup smudged on her face.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, threads of panic twisting through my insides.

She rubs her red eyes. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I look at Sherm and know from the dark circles and pale skin that he didn't sleep well last night. Those threads of panic grab hold of my stomach and yank, and I feel suddenly sick.

“You're sure? Because if there's anything I can do to help . . .” I trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence.

Lee swallows, her face twisting. “Rob left unexpectedly. We're all just a little shocked.”

But I can tell from her eyes that it's more than that.

“Is he okay?” It's out of my mouth before I even think. I'm able to contain my next thought, which is,
Is he coming back?

She shakes her head, and panic gets a firm grip on my heart when a tear slips over her lashes. But she wipes it away quickly with a glance at Sherm. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Sure.” I look at Sherm. “Do you have some reading?”

He's made so much progress, but today it's like day one again. The fear in his eyes is back. Rob said Sherm saw him kill that man, which would explain his fear of his older brother, but this is something different, because now, that fear is laced with guilt.

I still don't have the details of what happened. I don't know why someone was threatening the family, whether it was a mugging or something else. I just know, what Rob did, he did to protect his family. I hope Sherm doesn't think he drove Rob away.

Because I'm afraid that might have been me.

I grasp his shoulder. “I'll be right outside the door with your sister, okay?”

He nods again.

Lee and I step outside.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“Just . . . I was going to keep Sherm home today, but . . .” She trails off as another tear spills over. “He's stopped talking again, and Rob—” Her voice chokes off on a sob.

“Where did he go?” I ask, my insides twisted so tight I can barely breathe.

She swallows. “When he hadn't come home from an assignment up in Tampa by last night, I called his employer. She said the driver he was with in Tampa with told her he got on a plane to Chicago.”

“What's in Chicago?” My heart, pounding in my throat, makes the words thick.

Her vacant gaze sharpens, and her hazel eyes become darker as more tears well. “I'll try to be here for Sherm at two thirty, but if I'm a little late, can you stay with him?”

“I can stay as long as you need me to. Or if you need me to bring him home for you, I could do that too.” I can't breathe, remembering everything that happened last time I was at their house. There has to be more to why he left. What happened between us was bad . . . and got worse when Dad showed up, but it couldn't have been enough to drive him away from his family. “Do you still have my number?”

She nods. “It's in my cell.”

“Just call me if you need me to bring Sherm home. And if there's anything else I can do . . .”

“Thank you,” she says, heading down the walk. I watch her Beetle disappear up the road, then go back into class.

The rest of the day, I can't take my eyes off Sherm. And I can't think. What if Rob's gone for good? And the way Lee seemed . . . like he was in danger . . .

He killed a man. For the first time it occurs to me it might not have been random.

It's like they didn't exist, which means they're running from something, Adri. Probably criminal activity
.

What if what Dad said that night at the dinner table is true? What if someone is really trying to hurt Rob and his family because of something they're involved in?

By the time the bell rings for dismissal, I'm convinced I'm right. It explains all the odd behavior when they first arrived, why Rob might have to kill someone to protect his family, and why he's been so secretive.

The other students scatter and Sherm moves to the window, looking toward the parking lot for Lee.

I pull a chair up next to mine at my desk. “Come over here, Sherm. I want to show you something.”

He turns and looks at me, then makes his way tentatively to my desk.

I type
shark anatomy
into the search box on my computer and pull up the website I found last week. “Check this out.”

Sherm scoots closer and looks at the computer as a shark swims across the screen. The narration for the program starts, and Sherm and I go through the interactive steps of deconstructing a shark until all that's left is a cartilaginous skeleton.

He seems to forget his anxiety for a few moments, and I'm glad for that.

Lee calls to say she's on her way while we're putting the shark back together, and we're almost done when she comes through the door. I stand and know just from looking at her, more frazzled that she was this morning, things aren't good.

“Finish him up, Sherm, and I'll be right back,” I say, moving swiftly toward his sister. “We need to talk.”

Lee looks over her shoulder at Sherm as she follows me outside. “Is Sherm okay?”

“He's fine. He hasn't spoken today, but he seems to have relaxed a little being in the classroom. So tell me, what has him so upset?”

Anger and frustration flare in her gaze as it shifts to me. “His brother left. We're all upset.”

“It's more than that,” I press, panic making me bold. “You're worried because Rob went to Chicago. Why?”

Her stance grows defensive and she turns for the door. “We're leaving.”

“Not until you tell me what's going on,” I say, holding the knob.

“It's none of your business. You're Sherm's teacher. That's all.”

She looks like she wants to punch me, but I don't back down.

“That's
not
all,” I say, bracing myself. “Rob and I are . . . involved. I know some horrible things have happened to your family. He killed someone. Does that have anything to do with why he left?”

Her mouth drops open and her eyes pull round as dinner plates. “He told you that?”

I nod, feeling tears press at the backs of my eyes. I swallow them. “I don't need to know details. I just need to know if he's in danger.”

Her expression transitions from incensed to grief-stricken, and those tears I've been trying to swallow well in my eyes as hers spill over. She presses a shaking hand over her face and her voice is small as she says, “If they find him there, they'll kill him.”

She may as well have reached down my throat and ripped my heart out. The hole her words left in my chest is gaping. I can't breathe. “Can you call him? Tell him to come home?”

“I've tried. He won't pick up.”

“Can you go after him?”

She shakes her head with a mournful look at my classroom door. “Not without risking the rest of the family.”

“The police?” I ask with a cringe.

She just looks at me.

It comes to me out of nowhere, but the instant I think it, I say it. “I'll go.”

Her eyes light, but then despair snuffs it out. “I wouldn't even know where to look for him. He wouldn't go to the house or the cottage at the lake.”

“A hotel? Is there one he might pick?”

She shakes her head as more tears run down her cheeks. But then her eyes clear and she looks at me. “The Bienville. Our family owns it. Mom was killed there.”

“Would he go back there?”

She nods. “He does that sometimes . . . just goes to look at the spot. It would be risky for him to stay there, but . . . I can't think of anywhere else to look.”

The hole where my heart used to be grows larger and starts sucking the rest of my vital organs into it. I move away from the door. “If he's not back by the weekend, I am going to Chicago.”

“That will be too late.” She bites her lips between her teeth as she wipes her face with trembling fingers. “I can't believe he told you.”

“We're . . .” I want to say
together
, or
close
, or
in love
, but how things were left between us, none of those seem to fit. “. . . involved,” I say again.

“My brother doesn't open up to anyone. Ever. I think you're more than ‘involved,'” she says, making air quotes.

I stare after her as she steps into the room and collects her little brother. When they're gone, I sit down at my computer and type in
Bienville Chicago
.

I dial the number and spin my chair to face the window. When the hotel operator picks up, I ask, “Can you please connect me to Robert Davidson's room?”

There's a pause. “I don't see a Robert Davidson in our registration. Could it be under a different name?”

It could be under
any
other name. He's probably not even there.

But if I don't go and something happens to him, I'll never be able to forgive myself.

“Thank you.” I hang up and just stare at the phone before going back to the computer and searching airfares to Chicago. I find a flight from Tampa at six with one seat left. I book it and close down the computer, then call the school office and leave a message that I'm going to be out for the rest of the week.

Dad will be harder.

I sweep into the house, thanking God that he's not home yet, and head straight to my room. I grab a few clean pairs of underwear, some jeans, and a few tops and shove everything into a bag. When I come out, I tear a slip of paper off the pad near the phone and start on a note. I know it's a cop-out, I should go by the station and tell him what I'm doing, but I don't have the time or energy to get into it with him right now. It's hard enough that my heart feels like it's been raked over a hot bed of coals and buried in the backyard after what happened with Rob. I cried most of the weekend, missing Mom more than I have in a while. I need her strong shoulder right now. Minus that, I need my dad.

But things between us have been totally awkward since he found me at Rob's two days ago. It feels like the first months after Mom died.

After her funeral, it took me a few weeks to tie up everything and move home for good. Daddy was wrecked. He took an extended leave from the department, leaving Sergeant Dixon in charge, and he only came out of his room for an occasional meal and shower. He kept his eyes down and wouldn't look at me most of the time, but when he did, the pain in his gaze was almost palpable. It took me a while to figure out how hard it was on him that I look just like Mom.

All day yesterday, his eyes followed me everywhere, as if he was hoping that my actions would somehow answer the questions he's afraid to ask, but he never looked
at
me. He's totally ashamed.

So I lie.

I tell him I'm staying at Chuck's because I need some space to think.

I race to my car and drive toward the airport as fast as I dare, dialing Chuck when I hit the highway.

“I need a favor,” I say when he picks up.

“Name it,” he shoots.

“If Dad calls, I need to you to tell him I'm there, but I'm sleeping.”

“What's going on, Ade?” he asks, his tone all brotherly concern.

I blow out a breath and it bellows in my ear through the phone. “I just really need you to do this for me. Please.”

“Is it something to do with Batman? Because if he's messing with you, I'll be messing with him.”

“It's . . . I just need to go away for a few days.”

There's a long pause. “Name something else, Ade, because I'm getting a bad feeling about this.”

Desperation gets a chokehold on me and I can barely speak. “Please, Chuck.”

“He hasn't hurt you?”

The menace in his voice doesn't surprise me, but it squeezes tears into my eyes. Because he has. What he said on Saturday cut deeper than I ever could have imagined, but if I tell Chuck that, all bets are off. “No.”

“Where are you going?” he asks warily.

“Chuck . . .” The tight lump in my throat makes the plea thick.

“You know I'll do anything for you, but if there's something wrong, I need you to tell me.”

“Nothing's wrong. I just need a few days. Promise me, Chuck. If Dad calls, promise me you'll cover for me.”

I can almost hear him thinking through the airwaves. I've never asked him for anything like this before.