Someone to Watch Over Me (35 page)

“I thought I was at the time.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Melissa Miller.”

I snorted, and laughed silently. At least he
was honest. “What makes you so sure you’re in love with me?” For
all I knew he might only be with me on some misguided belief
generated by his father’s illustration. Or he might’ve liked the
chase. It couldn’t have been often that girls ran the other way.
Yet a third thought popped into my head. Perhaps he just liked to
play the hero. I fit the bill for the damsel in distress.

Contemplating, he lifted his shoulder. “The
other girls, I never felt the desire to keep them around. They
didn’t fit. With them, it was all about fortune and fame. But
you’re different. You want to make music. You get it. I can talk to
you and get an intelligent answer, even if it’s not what I might
want to hear. You don’t idolize me, you know?”

“Oh, I idolize you. Trust me.”

Tate grinned sheepishly, but pressed on.
“It’s not just that. Other than your obvious attributes, you get
along with the guys—” My expression must’ve shifted, revealing my
disagreement, because Tate paused and shook his head. “It might not
seem like it, but they do actually like you.”

“They have an odd way of showing it.”

“Carter’s trying. You have to admit, he’s
toned down the last few days.”

He had. Ever since I told him that I hated
him, he pretty much left me alone. Well, I thought he had, but now
that I saw the pictures he had been taking on the sly, I knew that
wasn’t the case. He was like my own personal paparazzi.

“And Shane might be upset that he lost his
drawers, but you noticed him, truly and honestly noticed him for
his artistry. He appreciates that more than he’ll ever admit.”

“You don’t have to mediate, Tate. I can get
along.”

“You more than get along, Coop. That’s my
point. You can hold your own. They respect you. So whether it was
fate or coincidence that we crossed paths, I don’t care. I’m
thankful. It’s not often that you find someone that both you and
your friends like.”

“Ok, so your happy place is between my
thighs, you were in Grease during your sophomore year because
Belinda Cummings had great tits, and you love me because your
friends approve—”

Chest shaking with silent laughter, Tate
asked, “Can we quit this line of questioning now?”

“Are you sure you want to leave it at that?
Right now, I have the impression I married someone shallow. If we
keep going, at least you’ll have the chance to redeem
yourself.”

“You’re right—next question.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“June twenty-seventh.”

“Worst job.”

“I never had a job other than singing.”

“You really suck,” I declared. “Your dad
didn’t even make you work a normal job so that you would learn
morals, ethics and build social skills?”

“No.”

“That’s what happened to you.”

“Yes, are we done now?”

“You don’t want to turn the tables?”

“Another time.” Tate’s smile faded. He
pulled me close, slowly revolving us to the music that was no
longer playing. Resting my head against his chest, my mind
wandered, speculating over his hesitation regarding my past. A
second later, it dawned on me.

“Grant wasn’t my first.”

“That’s actually a relief.”

“His name was Sean McCreary. I—”

“I really don’t need to know any more,” Tate
interjected. “While I’m glad it wasn’t Grant, I have to confess, I
can’t remain as objective as you have. No matter how narrow-minded
it sounds, no guy wants to hear about his wife’s past lovers,
be—”

“It
is
narrow-minded, completely
narrow-minded! I didn’t get mad about Belinda Cummings big tits,
but you can’t listen to my story?”

“I really have no desire to know if he
rocked your world or not.”

My mouth popped open. My lips curled up at
the corners. “You’re afraid that I’ll say he was better!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You know what—now you’ll never know.”

“You didn’t deny it! My God, Coop, you’re
supposed to deny it! You’re supposed to bolster my masculinity and
say, ‘No, Tate, you’re the best I’ve ever had.’”

“It’s going to eat at you, not knowing,
isn’t it?”

“Coop.”

“Song’s over.” Smirking, I backed away,
slipped from his arms.

“Coop, come on.”

“Have to use the ladies room.”

Tate’s eyebrow arched at this. “The seedy
one in the back?”

“Don’t even think about it,” I threw over my
shoulder. Nevertheless, Tate began following me through the
restaurant.

“I just thought maybe I should go back there
with you. You know, I could make sure no one walks in on you.”

“It has three stalls. It’s meant to
accommodate more than one person at a time.”

“See? That’s practically an invitation.”

“Of the same sex.”

“I’m not really into mé—”

“You’re not coming in.”

“Are you putting your foot down?”

“Yes.” Turning to face him, I placed my hand
on his chest, watched his expression dissolve into a pout. He took
my hand, fiddled with my fingers. “Tonight,” I promised, “I’ll wait
up for you.”

“I like it better when you wait for me
backstage.”

“Levy will be in bed.”

“I’ll have to hire a nanny.”

“An ugly nanny,” I qualified, “or at least
one that isn’t your type.” Teasingly, I cocked my head to the side
in wonder. “Is there such a thing?”

“Anyone that isn’t you, Coop. That’s a very
narrow field, like one in…oh, let’s say about seven billion.”
Testing my resolve, he leaned in and kissed me, slowly, sensually.
He stroked my tongue, nibbled my lip until every nerve ending
stirred and tingled. I found myself drawing closer despite the
audience surrounding us. When he broke the kiss, my lips turned
into a pout.

“Can I change my mind?”

“Nah, I think I’ll wait. I wanna take my
time with you.”

“Why not both,” I suggested from under my
lashes. “Fast now. Slow later. Just the way you like it.”

“One in a billion.” Stealing one furtive
glance, he made sure nobody was looking. There wasn’t. The ‘seedy’
bathroom was in a small hall in the right rear of the restaurant.
Tate called it seedy because it was secluded and the hall was dim,
but the three-stall bathroom was actually roomy and reasonably
clean. We had Levy with us, after all. It had to be family
oriented.

When the coast was clear, Tate pushed the
door open. We stumbled into the bathroom, yanking at each other’s
clothes. Abruptly, he broke the kiss. He whirled and shoved me back
out.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, caught off guard. I
laughed. It was obviously occupied. Whomever we’d barged in on was
probably just as surprised as we were. “Take it ea—”

I didn’t get the chance to voice my
complaint. Tate shoved me forward, essentially herding me away from
the bathroom. It was all I could do to keep from falling down.
Behind him, the door opened. A man stepped out. I immediately
recognized him despite the shoddy dye job.

Grant.

A scream stuck in my throat as he lifted his
hand. Nestled in his palm was a chunky old revolver. Everything
slowed to a crawl. I think the angry sneer on Grant’s face would
remain forever in my memory. His lip curled back, his dark brows
shadowing his cornflower blue eyes.

I heard a loud pop. My ears began to ring,
after effects of the gun blast. I yelped or screamed, possibly
both. Tate dropped, taking me with him to the floor. People began
screaming. “Down!” someone shouted. “Get down!” More gunfire. Tate
curled himself around me, over me, used his body to shield mine.
Those who decided to run for the exit reconsidered their decision
and dropped to the floor around us. Tate pushed my head down.

A distance away, Levy was crying. I’d know
his cry anywhere, though he sounded muffled to my ears. He was
alive. That’s all that mattered. If he was crying, he was
alive.

“Stay down,” Tate ordered. “Goddamn mother
fu—damn that hurt.”

“Jesus! Are you shot?”

“No, no, I think I took my knee out when I
fell. Are you ok?”

“I think so.”

“Where is—” Another blast cut me off, had me
curling into a smaller target.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, I’ve got you,” Tate
murmured, tightening his hold. “He can’t reach us here.” When Tate
and I fell, we fell to the side, around the corner. We had a wall
between Grant and us. “Evan has him trapped in the bathroom. Taylor
and Derek are evacuating the restaurant.”

From my perspective, I watched others
escaping to the kitchen, and most likely out the rear door. Slowly,
one at a time, they rose from the floor and crept away. As one
would disappear through the exit, the next would follow, edging
along the far wall.

“I want my son!” Grant shouted. “You hear me
Cooper,
you fucking whore
, I want my son!”

My fingers curled, nails digging into the
grimy carpet.

“You aren’t getting him, you sick fuck,”
Tate muttered. “I hope Evan sticks a couple caps in your ass.”

“Why don’t you put down your gun,” Evan
replied, “and we’ll talk.”

“Fuck you!” I guess that was a big fat no.
No surprise there. I suppose Evan was stalling, buying time. It
wouldn’t do to tell Grant a flat out ‘no.’ He might just rampage
and shoot everyone in the place. “Just give me my kid and nobody
else gets hurt.”

“Not until you’ve calmed down.”

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking
business.”

“Coop,” Tate said lowly, “it’s almost time.”
The restaurant had virtually emptied, except those in the booths
along the right wall, like Carter, Levy, Marshall, Jake, Shane, and
three or four other patrons. All of which were in the direct line
of fire. They hunkered down in the booths, beneath the tables,
taking cover.

“I’m not leaving until Levy’s out.”

“Carter has him. He’ll be fine. He won’t let
anything happen to him. I swear.”

“No.”

“Cooper.”

“Tate, I’m not leaving without my son!”

“I want my son right fucking now,” Grant
demanded, “or this bitch in here is fucking dead!” I would’ve
called his bluff, but he extorted a scream from his hostage.

“You asshole!” she cried. “Let go of me!” A
small skirmish ensued, distinguishable by the epithets coming from
both Grant and his hostage. “He’s bleeding like a stuck pig!” she
shouted—to Evan I presumed, since he was negotiating. “I think you
hit an artery!”

Grant must’ve coldcocked her, because I
heard a dull thud, followed by the sound of her body hitting the
floor.

“You see, Cooper? Evan’s a professional.
That shot was no fluke. Nothing is going to happen to Levy.”

I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. They
quickly brimmed over in a maelstrom of fear and loathing. Levy was
still crying. He was scared. Leaving him felt like abandonment.

Damn Grant to hell.

“We’ll just go to the kitchen, then. We can
wait for him there, right behind that door, Cooper. We won’t be
far.” Brushing the hair from my face, Tate pressed on. “He’s not
going to get hurt. Grant will have to go through Evan, Taylor, and
Derek. It’s not gonna happen.”

“Tate’s right, Cooper,” Taylor said,
crouching beside us. “We need to get you both to a safer location.
The sooner you’re out of here, the sooner Derek and I can
concentrate on evacuating the others, including your son.”

Tate rose before I could refuse. He and
Taylor each grasped an arm, lifted me from the floor and began
physically escorting me toward the kitchen and farther away from
Levy.

My neck bowed as I watched Levy grow farther
away.

They pushed through the kitchen doors to
where half a dozen police officers stood along the wall, flanking
either side of the entry. Tate pulled me off to the side, where he
hoped we could remain inconspicuous to their attention. There, he
pulled me into his arms.

Taylor approached the police and began
apprising them on the remaining hostages, their locations, Grant’s
location, his alleged injuries and anything else that might be of
importance. One of the six spoke into his radio and then cautiously
slipped through the doors, followed by four of his comrades. The
last remained behind, securing the kitchen door.

“We should move,” Taylor suggested,
returning to us. “When they escort the others out, they’ll bring
them out the front door. It’s closest to their position.”

Backing me to arm’s length, Tate asked,
“Stay or go?”

I was late, but I wasn’t dense. They managed
to evacuate me by doing it in degrees. I might as well have been
miles away from Levy. My heart and soul was in that room with the
demon from my worst nightmares, and I had no power to protect him.
I could still hear him crying for me.

“He’s going to be fine, Coop,” Tate said
when he saw the shift in my expression. Whirling, I headed for the
dining room, driven by my rising panic. “Coope—aw fuck!”

While Tate struggled with his knee, Taylor
lifted me by the waist, toting me—kicking and screaming—toward the
exit. Outside, the sun was high in the sky, beaming down on us, an
antithesis to what I was feeling inside. No, Grant had once again
managed to eclipse any light in my life, stealing it and corrupting
it with his dark and twisted soul.

Once a safe distance away, Taylor placed me
on my feet. “He’s dying. If that woman is right, he’s bleeding out.
It’s only a matter of time. We just have to wait him out.”

“Then let me go back inside,” I demanded,
trying to step around him and failing as he mirrored my moves. I
dodged right; he went left. I dodged left; he moved right.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“You’d be his first target, Cooper. Do you
want to leave your son alone, or risk the one you’re carrying?
You’re pregnant. You can’t put yourself in danger.”