The Past Came Hunting (28 page)

“When I sat across from him in his office on Vermijo, and he insisted I take the plea agreement instead of going to trial, he made it sound like I had no choice. He knew my mom couldn’t come to my rescue, and my dad had said sayōnara. As for my public defender?” Mel scoffed. “He was about as effective as that little white-haired lady with the bun and the glasses who goes about her business, never suspecting that poor Tweety’s about to be eaten.”

At the painful edge to Mel’s voice, Joe lowered his head. Fifteen years, and another perspective, certainly could shed light on things. It was hard to believe Melanie had been only two years older than Matt when Joe chased her down that back alley after the robbery. Sure, she’d been on drugs, and twice as wild, but she was right. With no parental guidance, Bruce probably thought prison would scare her straight.

Looking at her now, who knew? He might have done her a favor, not that Joe would ever tell Melanie that. She’d turned out so responsible, level headed, sexy, beautiful.

“You have every right to despise both of us,” Joe said quietly. “But here’s a tip for you.”

She lifted her head to look at him.

“Tweety Bird outsmarted Sylvester the Cat every time.”

“Thank you for that.” Mel smiled sadly. “But can I share something with you?”

“Any time.”

“When it comes to how I feel about you, despise isn’t the right word. As for our past, you’ve more than wiped the slate clean.”

The kitchen filled with the aromatic smell of coffee, but as she started to pour him a cup, Joe placed his palm over the rim. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you?”

“I have an idea.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Melanie.”

She swiped at a tear. “Don’t do this.”

He moved so close she backed away from the counter. And as their gazes locked in a battle no one could win, Joe understood at last. So this was heartache. He’d thought he’d known. Nothing in his past had prepared him for this. Karen was the mother of his children, and he’d loved her. But not like he loved this woman. Melanie, with her intense, intelligent, compassionate viewpoints, was everything he wanted in a partner. And because of one lousy mistake she’d made as a girl, she was forever off limits to him? Twenty-two years of law enforcement swirled in his brain: the good times, the awful times, the successes, the failures.

He was ready to roar, screw this job!

Her eyes were shimmering pools, the color of Tennessee whiskey. “You’ve been right to keep your distance, Joe.” Her smile finally made it to her eyes. “What we’ve had these few short months has been nice, but if you think about it, I’m just a blip on your radar.”

He narrowed his gaze. Was she out of her mind? For fifteen years, thanks to the scar on his arm, he’d thought of this woman. If he were a mystical kind of guy, he’d say she’d been brought to him by some cosmic force. But superstition had nothing to do with it. Now that he knew what she was about, he wanted her in his life.

“A blip on my radar.” Joe shook his head. “Just so we’re clear, you may find it easy to forget me, but I will
never
forget you.” As tears filled her eyes, he echoed the same careful tone, she’d used with him. “And, baby, I don’t want to.”

Mel had made mistakes in her life.
No doubt, taking Joe into her bed was one more. But for right now his presence was perfect―and needed. Throughout the night the sex between them had been slow and giving one minute, desperate and fierce, the next. In short, as she’d always known it would be, spectacular.

They’d never gotten around to drinking their coffee, they’d switched to white wine instead, and as she lay facing him now, her chin in her hand, her elbow supporting her body, she watched him watch her.

Day-old stubble covered his jaw and chin, making him appear in the glow of a vanilla-scented candle, the essence of dangerous. But looks could deceive. Joe Crandall was a very good man.

With only a sheet between them, she traced her nail lightly over a bicep that felt like iron, guiding it down until she reached the puckered flesh of the scar she’d inflicted. “Did it hurt, Joe?”

He shook his head as gooseflesh rose on his arm where she’d touched him. “It’s been so long ago, I honestly can’t remember.”

Slanting her gaze, she replied, “Liar. How many stitches did you need?”

“I didn’t count. I wish you wouldn’t think about this, Mel.” Then a teasing glint matched his smile. “Some men tattoo a woman’s name on their body, you gave me this scar. Besides it’s one of several now. Comes with the job.”

“Not funny.” Enjoying the scent of a men’s cologne he called Aramis, she went to work learning the places of the others. Joe had once had shoulder surgery, he had a scar where his appendix had been, and he’d suffered visible trauma to his left hip and right knee. I’ll feel bad about it forever,” she said.

“I won’t. Every time I look at it, I’ll proudly acknowledge that the little hellion who did it turned out to be a remarkable woman. By the way, I sure hope you’re through exploring down there. Come here, you.” Pulling her on top of him, he brought her close for another kiss, where Mel did her best to show Joe what he meant to her.

Afterwards, Mel drifted off to sleep, smiling.

Morning, however, had a way of forcing reality. She opened her eyes, immediately missing Joe’s touch and the comforting arms that had held her all night. He stood by the window seat, staring down at his phone.

She rose up on her elbows. “Problem?”

He shook his head. “Just got a text. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

Even in the early dawn, she could see the downturn of his mouth. Ready to take his advice, she turned onto her side, but already she felt the distance of the last few days.

“Joe? What is it? Can I help?”

He lifted his head to look at her. “Honey, I wish you could. It’s a message from Chief Gallegos. I’ve been asked to appear in front of an oral review board today.

Wide awake now, she sat up, propped her back against the headboard and tugged the blankets over her breasts. As she sucked in air, all she could think of was that damned Bruce Bennett.
We were just talking about you, Mrs. Norris.
She released her breath and swallowed. “Does it have something to do with me?”

“I’m being considered for a promotion.”

Suddenly, her stomach knotted and she couldn’t find air. As if the gulley separating them wasn’t already wide enough, the prospect of a future with him grew even bleaker. “That’s terrific, Joe. Congratulations.”

He rounded the bed. She moved over to make room. “It’s not a done deal,” he said, sitting beside her. “I’m up against another lieutenant with equally impressive credentials and backing.”

“If they have any sense, they’ll choose you. You’ve worked hard. I know how much this means to you.”

“Melanie―”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do.” Peppered with sarcasm, his tone wasn’t a question.

“We can’t see each other anymore.”

“I was going to say, ‘It’ll be tough.’”

Her throat hurt now, but as she’d fought to do since he’d walked in the door, she kept the damn tears at bay. “If you want this promotion, Joe, and you do, we’ll end this thing right now. An association with me will hurt your career.”

“How do you know?”

The shock in his voice only confirmed what she’d put together in the last few minutes. That day in his office, Bennett hadn’t come to complain she was bad news. The D.A. had come to warn Joe he risked a promotion by his involvement with her.

Shaking her head at not seeing it, she inhaled before answering, “It’s reasonable to assume that the police department and the Department of Corrections have similar policies.”

“I imagine they do.”

Her throat burned so badly now, it threatened to close. It was time to broach a subject she’d rarely shared. But she had to impress upon him how foolish he’d be to pursue her. “When Carl and I had been married a year, he was up for promotion. We were thrilled. It would mean more money, more desirable shifts, and put him on the fast track for further advancement. That was the first time he was overlooked.”

“The first time?”

“We learned his supervisors had blackballed him because of me and my criminal conviction.” She worked a thread loose on the bedspread. “After everything Carl had done for me, it nearly destroyed me to see him so disappointed. So, I asked for a divorce.”

“You thought it was because of you?”

“There was no thinking about it.” Mel yanked out the string. “It
was
because of me.”

Frowning, Joe’s gaze traveled from it to her face. “Obviously, the divorce never happened.”

“Carl refused, and that was the end to it.”

“Sounds like he was a terrific man. Wish I could be more like him.”

“You already are.” Overwhelmed with the need to touch him, Mel stopped herself. “But that’s the last thing I want from you. If Carl hadn’t gotten sick, he would have come to resent me. I couldn’t bear that from you.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you about this. Turns out you already knew.”

Still, she hadn’t seen coming. After all she’d been through in this life, how could she have been so naïve? Maybe because he’d achieved a high rank already, she thought him immune.

“I don’t deal in fantasy, Joe. You owe it to yourself to earn this promotion. And to get it, we have to stay away from each other.” Amazed that she could keep her voice even when she was dying inside, she held his gaze.

It was Joe who looked away. “And if
I
don’t want this, Melanie. Do
I
have a goddamned say?”

The tears she’d been holding released in an onslaught. She wiped them away as fast as they poured out. “I’ve already given you an external scar,” she said, staring down at his arm.

“If you care about me, you won’t make me responsible for your internal ones.”

Chapter Thirty-six

On Christmas Eve, Drake received a text message from Michael Brown, aka “Breakneck”, saying he’d found Melanie. Not only did this get Drake one step closer to fulfilling his fifteen-year-old ambition of killing the bitch, it also meant that Brown wouldn’t die anytime soon.

As he drove his Jeep toward Brown’s part-time computer repair job, Drake smiled. The first real smile he could remember. By helping Ramirez dispose of Sanchez’s body, Drake had gone from bottom-feeder of the organization to managing partner. And now that he knew the gang leader’s entire scheme, Drake had a new admiration for the ex-con who’d shared the adjoining cell.

Ramirez had no intention of splitting the bank proceeds with the others. While the gang provided a diversion by hitting gas stations and liquor stores around the city, Ramirez and Drake would be taking the bank. There was one more thing that made Drake happy. Ramirez finally agreed they’d scope out a different institution than Liberty National Bank.

The plan would involve several stolen cars and a meeting place. Only when the gang leader and Drake completed their part of the heist, they’d be no-shows at the appointed rendezvous. With the cops chasing their tails, and no honor among thieves, he and Ramirez would head south with the loot. They’d get away from the murders they’d committed, then catch a plane to South America, compliments of Maria’s flight passes.

Hard to believe Drake had fallen for her. Eventually, they’d have to tell her brother, because she planned to join Drake often. He’d enjoy a good lay and a great lifestyle.

For now, though, there was still Melanie Norris to take care of.

Drake slowed his vehicle before turning into the shopping center off Union, having had no trouble finding Brown’s place of employment. Every storefront held “for lease” signs in the window, except for the mom-and-pop operation Brown worked for. Drake glanced at his watch. Brown was set to get off in ten minutes, which left Drake time to handle another project weighing on his mind. He parked next to Brown’s piece of shit El Camino, stretched out his legs and shoved his hands in his jean pocket. After removing his prepaid cell phone, he located his contact information from his wallet, punched in the ten-digit numbers and waited for the call to go through.

“Yeah?”
A female voice that sounded like its owner had a two-pack-a-day habit answered.

Drake held the phone away from his ear, compared it with the handwritten note and found it correct. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d checked in with the junkie, Rander. Drake wanted an update on his brother’s disposal.

“I’m looking for Rander,” Drake said. “He around?”

“He ain’t here,” she said. “Who’s this? Oh, wait, I see him. He’s downstairs. Hold on.”

Drake ground his back teeth, listening to what sounded like a window sliding up, followed by hacking and the woman’s grating voice. “Jay. Get your ass up here. Somebody’s on the phone.”

Damn. Drake could read the signs already. Rander had been doing squat toward getting rid of Adam. Drake listened as Rander squabbled with the bimbo before he came on the line. “Hello.”

“Rander. Don’t you fucking say my name. Do you know who this is?”

“I do. Hey, I was going to call you later. Where are you?”

“Out of the country. Listen to me. Get out of there, away from that hacking dog, and call me back. You talk about our deal in front of anybody, they’ll have to fish your body out of the river.”

Drake disconnected, seething at the imbeciles he had to deal with.

Five minutes later, his phone rang.

“Maxwell, it’s me. I swear I’m alone, and I ain’t told nobody, man.”

“Any news on our project?”

“Nah, bad news. Your brother’s one paranoid stiff.” Rander coughed. “Sorry. Bad choice of words, eh? I’ve been following him, but your bro’s never alone. He’s always hanging with some big MF.”

“Did I ask for excuses? If you can’t help me get my hands on my money, fuck off. I’ll get somebody who can.”

“Whoa. Harsh, dude. Who says I’m not doing it? But, you know, it might move things along if you sent me some dough beforehand.”

“What, so you can piss it up your veins? No way. Deal’s off. I got me a guy who’s eager to earn the five grand I promised you. And I can’t pay him until I get my hands on my inheritance, so―”

“Maxwell, no. Wait. I’ll handle it. Swear, man. Don’t be going and hiring nobody else.”

Drake gritted his teeth and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “You’ve got one week. If Adam isn’t dead by then, I hire my other contact.”

Drake snapped the phone shut.
What a fucking loser.
Why couldn’t he find somebody reliable?

Just then, the lights in the repair shop went off, and Brown walked out. Five seconds later, he sat beside Drake in the Jeep, rubbing his hands over the dashboard’s heating vent. “Took some time,” Brown said, “but I tracked her down. You’d never have found her in Pueblo. She works right here in the Springs, in a shop called Pinnacle Creations.”

Drake gripped the steering wheel. “But I remember seeing that name in the Pueblo phonebook.”

“Yeah, that’s what screwed me up, too,” Brown said. “But when I called the south shop, they said she worked up north. That’s when everything fell into place.” Brown grinned. “Get ready to pay me that bonus. You said before Christmas. The broad you’re sweet on is Pinnacle’s store manager. When I called, they’d told me she’d gone to the bank.”

“Bank.” Drake squinted, never taking his eyes off Brown. “Which one? Did they say?”

“Nope.”

Flexing his fingers, Drake prepared to yank out Brown’s brain via his greasy ponytail.

Brown saved himself by adding, “So I waited, called back and pretended to be a telemarketer. Place was a madhouse, phones ringing and shit. I get their delivery girl this time, a real chatterbox―turned out to be the owner’s niece. I asked if they were happy with their current bank, and she said she thought so.”

Drake, who couldn’t care less about the details, repeated, “Did she say which one?”

“Yeah, she did, Max.” Brown held out his greedy palm. “But I’ll take my money first.”

Drake smirked. Maybe there was something to this shit called holiday spirit, because he didn’t even feel like wasting the guy anymore. Drake pulled out the bills and waited while Brown counted the money.

Satisfied, Brown said, “Assurance Bank.”

Processing the information, Drake hesitated. “The first time you called the store and asked for Melanie, and they’d said she’d gone to the bank...”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember what time that was?”

“Sure do. I’d just left work. Five o’clock on the nose.”