Outside the Lines (27 page)

Adri

When the back door opens, I'm on the couch in the living room. I've thought a lot about what Dad said in his office yesterday, that he's not going to let anything hurt me, and all the pieces are starting to click in my head. On the coffee table in front of me are some things I spent most of the night digging out of the attic. My eyes scan the pile and I know that this could totally backfire if I'm not extremely careful.

Dad sees me sitting on the couch and immediately lowers his gaze.

“Dad, we need to talk.”

He notices the framed photo that Mom always kept in the drawer of her nightstand lying on the coffee table and freezes. “Where did you get that?”

“I got it out of the attic,” I say, picking up the picture of the brand-new baby boy with a fringe of black hair.

His gaze lifts to me and it's raw and wounded. “Why?”

“Because there are some things that need to be aired out.” I turn it for him to see. “Why didn't you let Mom keep this picture out?”

He lowers his gaze. “There are some things we don't need reminding of.”

“But he was your son, Daddy, even though he only lived a few days.”

I was only three when Aaron was born, so I don't remember him, and there's only this one picture of him as far as I've ever known. When I was little, maybe four, sometimes I'd hear Mom crying in her room when Dad was at work. When I went in, she had this picture out. She'd hug me tight and tell me how much she loved me. But I never remember hearing Dad and Mom talk about him.

I set Aaron in my lap and pick up the photo that was under it. It's a three-by-five of a man in an army uniform. I turn it for him to see.

The hurt in his gaze turns to anger. “What's this all about, Adri?”

“How old were you when Uncle Terry was killed?”

“Fifteen. What does this have to do with anything?”

I pick up the next photo. Grandpa. “When Grandpa was killed in the car wreck, I remember you insisted that Grandma move in with us, even though she was only two doors down.”

“I wanted to look after her . . . to be sure she was safe.”

I lift Grandma's picture and look at it. “You wanted to protect her.”

“Yes!” he shouts. “Of course.”

“But you couldn't.”

His jaw tightens and I see a tremor in it. “No.”

“Because there's no way to protect someone from cancer.”

“Adri, please,” he says, holding up his hand and backing toward the hallway. There are tears welling in his eyes, and I know this might be too much, but he needs to hear it.

I stand from the couch with Mom's picture in my hand. My voice is hoarse from the lump forming in my throat. “And you wanted to protect Mom.”

His face crumples, and tears spill down his cheeks and trickle into his beard. “God, yes.”

“But no one saw the aneurism coming.”

He shakes his head.

“So there was nothing you could do.”

He leans into the wall and slides to the floor with his face in his hands.

I go to him and sit on the floor, tears streaking my face. I pull him into my arms and rock him. “You're an amazing cop, Dad, but there are some things you can't control.”

I hug him close as he fights to get his emotions under control, but it's a losing battle. As we cry together on the floor, memories of Mom, Grandpa, Grandma flash through my mind, fueling the tears. I know Dad's reliving some of it too by the way he shakes with silent sobs. I've never seen him like this, and in some ways I regret what I've done. But he needs to understand. He needs to stop feeling like everything is his responsibility.

Finally, he lifts his head and scrubs a hand over his face. “You have no idea how hard it is to lose everyone you've ever loved. And you . . . I love you most of all. I couldn't bear it if I lost you too.”

“I know, Daddy, but you can't protect me from life.”

He blows out a weary laugh. “God knows I would if I could.”

I tighten my arms around him. “I love you, but you have to let me make my own choices, even if they turn out to be mistakes.”

“If anything ever happened to you, I couldn't live with myself.” His grip on me is crushing my ribs, but I don't push him away.

“Things are going to happen. That's what life is. I'll share the ones I can with you, and I'm happy to listen when you have advice, but in the end, how I live my life has to be my decision. You have to let me live, Dad.”

He lets me go and draws back to look at me. “So . . . you and Chuck . . . ?”

I can tell by his expression, more sad than hopeful, that he already knows the answer.

“I love Chuck almost as much as you, like family. He's my safety net and my best friend, but he's not the love of my life. I could never think of him like that.”

His expression hardens. “And you think this Davison character is? He's no good, Adri.”

“He didn't do anything wrong. You need to let him go and trust that I know what I'm doing.”

His face reddens in anger. “I'm not going to trust him. He and that family are ghosts, and I've been in law enforcement long enough I know what that means. They're a danger to society. I'm not dropping the charges until I know what their story is.”

“Daddy, don't to this. You've spent your whole life setting an example for me and everyone else in this town. You think he's a danger to society, but if you start using the law to settle your personal grudges, how are you any better?”

“I don't deserve that! I'm totally justified charging him.”

I nod. “Maybe you are. But I think you need to examine your motives. He hasn't hurt me or anyone else in Port St. Mary.”

“He's hiding something, Adri. Permit or not, no law-abiding citizen needs to be toting around a gun in his waistband.”

“He's not going to hurt anyone.”

“You can't possibly know that,” he says in a low growl.

“I can, because I know his heart.”

He gives me doleful shake of his head. “You think you love him, but real love is something that grows over time. You're too young to know all the evil in people's hearts.”

“They're leaving, Dad,” I say, my chest collapsing into a sucking wound. “If you drop the charges, they'll be gone and you won't have to worry about Rob or any of them again.”

His eyebrows lift. “He told you that?”

I nod, swallowing tears I can't show him.

“Where are they going?”

“I have no idea.”

“So, you and he . . . ?”

“Over.” The word is like a dull ice pick to my chest. I hold my breath a second until the pain subsides. “If you drop his charges, they'll be gone. If you hold him here until trial, that will take months.”

“You won't see him again?”

“No,” I answer.

He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Fine, I'll drop the charges. But if he so much as looks your direction, I'll have him back behind bars faster than he can blink.”

The cramp in my heart loosens and I can't stop a tear from spilling onto my cheek. “Thank you.”

He looks at me a long heartbeat before taking the picture of Mom from my hand and disappearing up the hall into his room.

Rob

Officer Dad dropped the charges. When the concealed weapons permit for my Glock turned out to be legit and Adri refused to go along with the kidnapping idea, he had nothing to hold me on. I should thank her, but the only thing that's straight in my head right now is that I need to steer clear of her. To that end, Lee is taking Sherm to school, and Grant is picking him up on the Harley in the afternoons.

I've been shot, stabbed, punched, and hit in the leg with a dart, and nothing's ever wrenched my gut quite like this. And the pain is sharper every time I relive our night on the road two weeks ago. I can't eat, or think, or even breathe half the time. It'll be a miracle if I survive it. Good thing I'll never feel this way about anyone else.

Sherm only has a month left in the school year, so Lee talked me into letting him finish before asking the Feds to relocate us. Until then, we're on high alert. But all this waiting gives me too much time to think.

I finally get that, even if we find a way to go home, the person I was in Chicago is dead. Out from under Pop, I've turned into the person I think Mom was hoping I'd become. I thumb the ring on my pinky and hope, wherever she is, she's proud of us.

I pull my ring off and turn it in my fingers, reading the inscription inside, the same one as in all my brothers' and sisters' rings.

EVERYTHING IN BALANCE

With all this time to think, Adri's draw over me has become clearer in my head. She and Mom both have a gift for bringing out the good in people. But the difference is, Mom knew there is always dark behind the light, and bad behind the good.
Everything in balance
. Adri only sees the light and the good, which makes her too easily deceived. Too easily destroyed. And where Adri wants to fix everything, Mom realized there are some things that need to be accepted just the way they are.

I lean back against the shingles of the widow's walk and slip the ring onto my finger. I fist my hand until the nails cut into my palms, trying to hold on to the good in myself.

Like the Beast, I've banished myself to the tower, spending my days on the widow's walk contemplating my sorry life and where we go from here. But when a white pickup rolls up the driveway a little after noon, I push off the rail and head down the stairs, grabbing two beers out of the fridge on my way to the door. I step onto the porch just as Chuck spills out of the truck.

I hand him a beer. “I don't deserve it, but let me take the edge off before you beat the shit out of me.”

He takes it. “Guess that would be the stand-up thing to do.”

“And you're a regular stand-up guy,” I say with a sardonic laugh.

He moves to the rattan chair in the corner of the porch and sits, kicking his boots onto the rail. “Adri's racking up some frequent-flier miles chasing you around.” The hard obsidian staring back at me as he says it is counter to his calm façade. “She tells me
everything
, but she won't tell me why she went after you.”

“Not sure why.” I settle into the love seat and take a long draw off my beer. “I had some things I thought I had to take care of. Turns out I was wrong, so I came back.”

“But you're not sticking around.”

“No,” I say, even though it wasn't a question.

“Everyone's got shit in their lives, and it seems to me yours might be more complicated than most people's.” He pauses and picks at the label of his beer. “The thing to think about is that there's only so far you can run, you know what I'm saying? Eventually, you're gonna have to stop.”

I drain half of my beer in one swallow. “Trust me when I tell you, you don't want me stopping here. Adri and everyone else will be better off if I keep moving.”

He tips his beer up and takes a long swallow. “Wouldn't break Chief Carl's heart to see you go, but it might break Adri's. She's trying to hold it together, but she's wrecked, man.”

The stone fist squeezing my chest tightens and I can't find air to speak.

He kicks his feet to the planking of the porch and plants his elbows on his knees. “She looks almost as bad as you do.”

I laugh again, but there's nothing funny about the way my insides are imploding. “There are some things I wish she'd told me. Things would have been different.”

“Like that she was a virgin? She said you flipped your shit all over her when you figured it out after the fact.”

I take a breath and hold it before tipping my head onto the back of the love seat and blowing it out. Having Chuck as Adri's confidant feels like another guy in the bedroom with us. “Like I said, things would have been different.”

His fingers drum the side of his bottle. “Not for her. I don't know what the hell she thinks she sees in your mangy ass, but this whole thing is just about killing her.”

I lift my head and look at him. “Next time an asshole like me comes along, do a better job of protecting her.”

He blows out a laugh. “That girl has a mind of her own. She wants what she wants, though I've never seen her want something quite as much as she wants you.”

“Well, I can't stick around, so regardless of what she wants, what she needs right now is for me to stay the hell away from her. I might have screwed everything else up, but that's something I can do right.” I finish my beer and set the bottle down, then stand and spread my arms to the side. “Ready when you are. Bring it on.”

He leans back and kicks his feet up, handing me his empty bottle. “The pump's not primed yet. I need another one if you want a thorough ass kicking.”

We're on our third beer and shooting the shit about work when Grant goes out for Sherm. When they comes back, Sherm lets Crash and Burn out, and they all disappear down the path to the beach. Grant pulls off his helmet, grabs a beer from the ice chest I brought out, and cracks it open.

“Nice bike,” Chuck tells him. “Bringing the Low Rider back was the smartest thing Harley's done in a while.”

They talk bikes and I tip my head back and zone out. When Sherm comes back, he surprises me by dropping onto the top step with the dogs and joining into the conversation. Lee calls him in to do his homework just as dusk sets in, and he high-fives Grant then Chuck. When he holds his hand out to me, it's a second before I can move. I high-five him and he slips through the door, Burn on his heels.

It's dark and I'm drunk by the time Chuck leaves. I guess he'll be back later for the ass kicking.

*   *   *

I had to do some fancy dancing to get back on Elaine's good side, but since I technically completed the job with Sophie and didn't miss any assignments while I was away, she didn't fire my ass. The only time I let myself out of the tower now is for work. I've been taking as many jobs as Elaine can find me, just for a reason to be somewhere else. So far, no more run-ins with anyone else I used to rub elbows with, and as far as I know, Sophie's made good on her promise.

It also seems no one from Chicago's tracked me back here. We've all watched for any of the telltale signs. New faces hanging around school or the house. Deliveries that we didn't order. It's been a month, and so far, nothing.

My current client is a British rocker I've listened to some. He and his band played a gig earlier and it's after midnight. He's currently wining and dining his girl at the table next to mine at this swanky Miami restaurant. I wish they'd bring me some toothpicks for my eyes.

I haven't been sleeping much, so sometimes it catches up with me at inopportune moments.

But I'm suddenly wide awake when he stands up and starts belting out a song. His girl is all starry-eyed and blushing as he sings to her, and it takes me a second to recognize the lyrics to one of his songs about how some things are just meant to be. The whole restaurant, patrons and staff, have stopped what they're doing and are watching the spectacle. He finishes the first verse, then pulls the iceberg that sunk the
Titanic
out of the pocket of his torn jeans and gets down on a knee in front of her.

“Baby, you're everything, and without you I'm nothing. You're my meant-to-be, and if you'll marry me, I'll spend the rest of my bloody life proving to you I'm yours. Will you?”

She says yes and they have this major make-out session while the whole place erupts into cheers and applause. It must be all the shit with Adri crossing my wires, but I feel myself getting sort of choked up too.

All the way back across the everglades, all I can think about is what the hell happens to a person when they feel like that poor schmuck—like someone is their meant-to-be—and it turns out she's meant for better things.

Adri's found all the decent parts of me and brought them to the surface, but could I ever be good enough? She says she doesn't need the fairy tale. I deluded myself into thinking that was true. She deserves to be swept off her feet and loved right out loud. Can I do that?

My phone buzzes and I lift it, looking at the screen. It's after one, so I'm expecting Elaine, or maybe Lee. The last person I expect is Adri.

I hold my breath as I open her text. It's been a month since that Missouri hotel room. There's not a day that's gone by that I haven't remembered every minute of it, including the fact that we rode bareback that night.

What if this is the fallout?

Meet me on the beach
.

When?
I text back.

Now
.

My gut knots.
I'm coming home from a job. Won't be there for an hour
.

I'll be waiting
.

She'll be waiting. She's waiting for me. To tell me she's pregnant.

Why else would she want to see me after a month of silence?

“Step on the gas, old man,” I tell David.

He grins and does as he's told.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm tripping down the path to the beach in my wingtips and monkey suit, on the edge of breaking my neck in my hurry. It's a full moon, and in it, I see her, a white form glowing out of the middle of a dark blanket on the sparkling sand. I jog toward her.

She's lying back on the blanket, arms overhead, totally naked. And fuck if I'm not hard as a rock for her in one second flat. She stands and steps in front of me. My tie is already loose around my neck. Without a word, she unfastens my buttons and pushes my shirt and jacket off my shoulders. They drop into the sand at my feet. She kneels and unties my shoes, pulling off one and then the other. I fight to keep my hands to myself as she starts on my slacks. When they and the boxer briefs underneath are both in the sand, she pulls me to the blanket.

She lays me down and straddles me, gliding her wet opening over my straining hard-on and making me crazy to be inside her. But she takes me in her hands instead. She explores, her fingers working my cock and the family stones with just the right amount of pressure, like she and a hand job are old friends. Finally, when I'm on the edge of coming in her hand, she reaches for her bag and pulls out a condom.

Without a word, she's told me she's not pregnant. In that second, I'm surprised to feel a tinge of disappointment mixed in with the relief. That's when I know. I want to live with her, love her, have a family with her, grow old with her. I can't leave her.

When she's got me covered, she lifts her hips and slides me deep inside her. There's no stopping the satisfied groan.

Her eyes are hooded as she moves on top of me, an agonizingly slow pace that's got me an inch from coming within seconds. I try to lift her off me so I'll last a little longer, but she clamps down with her legs, pulling me deep inside her.

If she's so eager to get my rocks off, I'm going to make damn sure she comes with me. Her movements quicken as I tease her perfect pink nipple with one hand and thumb her clit with the other. She rewards me by arching up and moaning. I press harder and her slick walls contract around me.

Her face is flushed in the pale moonlight when she looks down at where we're joined. I move my hand to give her a better view as she watches my swollen cock invade her, driving deeper into her with every upward thrust. Her fingers go there, eager to explore and learn. One slim finger follows me inside. She glides her wet finger out and flicks her clit, gasping as she arches up again. It makes me hotter than I've ever been to watch my little sex kitten get herself off with me inside her. She starts panting out
oh God
s that turn into desperate moans as the pace of her fingers on her clit quickens. I pump to her rhythm, harder and deeper with each thrust, and when her fingers slide between us and close around the base of my cock, I'm done. I explode inside her, unable to hold back another second. With my last thrust, she gasps my name and collapses on top of me.

I wrap her in my arms and inhale her. “Hi,” I pant on a breath, my face deep in her hair.

“Hi,” she breathes against my chest.

In this moment, there's no mob, no contract, no police, no family, no beach. There's only us. For the first time I can remember, I feel free of it all. She does that for me.

She's my meant-to-be, and I'm not letting go.