Under Fire (14 page)

“Rico wants you to go up,” Mouse said, thundering down the narrow stairs.

The I-hit-the-lottery smile on his face made Olivia suspicious. “Why, what’s up there?”

“You’ll see.” His smile got bigger. “Go up!”

Rico stood at the top of the stairs silhouetted by the evening sky. He extended a hand and helped her step onto the roof. The view was stunning. The setting sun cast a pink glow over the roof top and illuminated the high-rises of South Beach.

She did a slow turn taking it all in.

“Oh! This is so….” If Rico had not been holding her arm she might have fallen. “Your hair. Your beautiful hair.”

Rico rubbed his freshly shaved bald head. “Like it?”

“Why?”

“When we go out tomorrow I don’t want any chance I could be recognized.”

She raised her hand to touch his head and froze.

His eyes. “Your eyes aren’t brown anymore. They’re…”

“Green.” Rico captured her motionless hand and kissed the palm. “I’ve always worn contacts on the job. My eyes are a dead giveaway.”

All she could do was nod. They were to die for iridescent, pure new growth spring leaf green eyes like she had never seen before. “When this grows out—” he patted his head, “—it’ll be blond.”

“The dye.” She found her voice.

“Yeah.”

“But…” She glanced down.

“There too.” He grinned. “This is me, Olivia. A green-eyed blond who lays out naked on this roof to stay dark all over.”

She could only stare at him. At those startling green eyes.

“When this is over I’ll tell you my name.”

Again she nodded. He looked so different.

“Are you going to say something?”

“How could I have missed this?”

“I’ve been at this more than twelve years. I’m good at what I do, Olivia.”

“This is…”

“Shh.” Rico turned her. “It’s time to enjoy that—” he tilted his head in the direction of the sunset, “—and it’s best enjoyed in silence.” He pulled a bottle from a cooler. “And with champagne.”

Silently, they sipped, watching the red globe slip behind pink and gold clouds to finally disappear.

“Thank you for this. It was something I’ll always remember.”

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry, but I can’t get over how you look with your hair gone and—your eyes.”

“Sometimes I forget what I really look like.”

He dragged his lips over her neck. “I have another surprise.” He left her to turn on twinkling strands of Christmas tree lights and a CD player. Frank Sinatra’s voice drifted over them. Rico spread his arms, beckoning her, and she stepped into his embrace.

They danced to decades-old love songs and emptied two bottles of champagne. Quivering with desire Olivia asked, “Where?” She followed his gaze to a futon mattress piled with pillows. Before they reached the edge of the mattress, both were naked and panting.

Olivia let Rico set the tempo. He was sweet, tender, attentive to her every need and she reciprocated. In a few days they had learned how to bring each other to the height of pleasure. Tonight it was more than sex.

A tear tracked down her cheek. What was happening? She didn’t cry. Another dripped, then another. She couldn’t let him know she was crying. Too late. His thumb wiped the offending drop from her face.

“Tears?” His voice was husky. “You okay?” He raised his head in an effort to see her face.

Olivia nodded slightly. Rico put his index finger under her chin, tilting her face.

“What’s going on?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Is it how I look? Was it bad for you? Did I do something wrong?” Real concern filled his voice.

“No.” She gave him a small smile. “It was amazing. I feel—it felt different,” she whispered. She couldn’t tell him it was powerful, overwhelming and scared the hell out of her.

“Yeah.”

They lay entwined and silent, watching the sky, listening to the faint sounds of the city.

“Olivia?” She loved the way her name sounded when he said it.

“Umm?”

Rico lightly ran his fingers along her spine. “The night we met, why did you leave the bar with me?”

“Are you complaining?”

“I’m serious.”

She pressed away and angled her head to look into his face. “I wanted to be with you.”

“Just like that?”

“It wasn’t just like that. I needed to let go. My life is about control. You were…”

“What made you decide?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Humor me and answer the question.”

She sighed deeply and tucked her cheek against his chest. “It’s all very cliché.” Another sigh. “There was a chemistry. Your smile. You made me laugh, I felt comfortable with you.” His scent, the taste of him, the feel of his hard body—she could go on and on but she didn’t.

“Did you think I was the person you came to meet?”

“No. It never crossed my mind. Not even when I found the note. But it should have.”

“Would that make a difference to you? I want to be sure you didn’t go with me for the information,” he said.

“What I wanted from you I got and it wasn’t information.”

It was several minutes before he continued. “A few days ago you asked some questions I wouldn’t answer. I want to tell you now.” His hand drifted up her back to the nape of her neck and massaged gently.

“Okay.”

“My life was messed up for as far back as I can remember. Didn’t have a mother. Don’t know if she died or left. It was my dad and me. Things hit rock bottom when I was ten. I came home from school on a Friday afternoon and he was gone.”

Olivia lay motionless against him, speechless.

“I knew this time he wasn’t coming back.”

“This time?”

“Yeah. He left me on weekends all the time. A few times for a week or more. At first he left enough food and some money. He stopped doing that.”

“How did you know he wasn’t coming back?”

“He took all of his stuff.”

“What did you do?”

“I hid in a closet until Sunday morning.”

Her hand rested on his chest, over his racing heart. She said nothing.

“At first I didn’t know what to do. After a while I started making a list in my head.”

“A list?”

“Facts. Things I knew were true. What I had to do to get by. I was alone. Had to eat and clean up. Had to go to school. I worked out how I would do it.”

Olivia pulled in her lower lip, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want to hear this.

“I was getting free lunches at school. I knew I could eat at least once a day during the week. Weekends would be hard. I took all the stuff other kids didn’t eat home. Didn’t have money to wash my clothes at the Laundromat, washed them in the sink with regular soap.”

“How long did this go on?” What she really wanted to ask was how could someone do this to a child—much less their own child.

“Close to a month. One of the cafeteria workers noticed me getting unopened milk cartons out of the trash. Told a counselor. He couldn’t call my dad. We didn’t have a phone. He put me in his car and drove me there. In the car I ran stories through my head, what I would tell him about my dad. He was at work or out buying groceries. But, when I unlocked the door I knew he wouldn’t believe a word I said.”

“Why? What happened?”

“The place was a dark, back of the building apartment. You needed a light even in the daytime. He flipped a switch and nothing. The electricity had been cut off.”

“What did you do?”

“I stood there, not moving, while he went room to room. He came back to me, took my hand and we left.”

“He didn’t let you get your things?”

“Didn’t have any things. No toys, just some ratty clothes.”

“Where did he take you?” Her heart was pounding as hard as his.

“To his house. He was a young unmarried Italian guy living with his parents. A nice old couple who made a fuss over me. Didn’t know what to make of them. All the attention scared the hell out of me. His mom cooked a feast. They kept telling me to eat more. I did. I’d never had that much to eat at once.” He paused for a heartbeat. “They gave me my first ice cream.” His voice broke.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips against his chest. His hand covered hers and squeezed.

“After dinner his parents left so we could talk. I told him everything. He said I’d stay the night with him. The next day he had to notify Children and Family Services. Explained how the system worked. I’d be placed in a foster home until they found my dad. I panicked. Started crying and shaking. He didn’t understand. Finally I got it out. Told him I didn’t want my dad back. Anything was better than being with him.”

“What…did he say?”

“Nothing. He sat next to me on the sofa, put his arm around me. Said it would be okay. It’s one of the strongest childhood memories I have. It was the first time I could remember someone putting their arm around me. It felt good.”

Olivia was having trouble processing all he said. How could a man, a father abandon his child? Her childhood problems were miniscule compared to this.

“I was officially a ward of the state, in and out of foster homes. Switched schools a lot. I was always the new kid. I was picked on. I picked back. Got in a lot of trouble. At fifteen I landed with this older lady. For the first time I felt I belonged some place. She got me through high school and into the Marine Corps. In college, I had a serious relationship. We were living together.” He sucked in a deep breath and released it. “She got pregnant.”

Olivia mashed her body against his. He took several ragged breaths and continued.

“I was twenty-six, she was nineteen. Came home from class one day—she was gone. She told her parents about the baby. They swooped in, took her home and to a clinic for an abortion. A friend of hers told me.”

Olivia gasped. She didn’t want to hear any more. “I—”

“Let me finish.” His grip tightened. “Two weeks later she killed herself. Overdose, street drugs.”

Olivia wiggled out of his hold and levered herself up on an elbow. He rested an arm over his eyes.

“That’s why you changed your major. To get drug dealers.”

He said nothing.

She lay back against him, realizing it would be easier for him to talk if she wasn’t staring at him. He was quiet a long time. When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer she blurted, “Did you love her?”

“The girl? No. Yes. I don’t know. I know I let her down. I didn’t stop her parents. I didn’t go after her.”

Olivia bolted upright. “Oh, Rico you didn’t let her down. She chose to go with her parents. You weren’t even there when she left. For God’s sake, she was nineteen and couldn’t have an abortion unless she wanted one. Did she even call you?”

“No. I didn’t call her, either.”

“Look at me, Rico.” When he didn’t move his arm she shoved it away. Even in the darkness his eyes were brilliant. “Think about it. She left, took your child without saying anything. Letting you hear about what happened from someone else. She may have been young, but that was damn cold. And I’ll bet she was into drugs before.”

He sighed. “I suspected she used before we were involved.”

“What about the lady? The foster mom, she cared about you?”

“Yeah. She didn’t cut me any slack and got me on the right track at school.” A thin smile crept across his face. “First time I got into trouble living with her she wore me out with her shoe. She was five-foot. I was already at my full height and I stood there and took it. I remember it like it just happened.”

“Why?”

“She wasn’t mad at me, she was mad I did something so stupid. Said I was smarter. Also said, next time I did something like that she’d beat me bloody with a broom. For the first time, somebody cared about me. Pretty much stayed out of trouble after that. Didn’t want to let her down. She talked to me about enlisting. Dragged me to a recruiter and watched me put my name on the dotted line. Made it clear it was the only way to get money for college. My only chance to get in. When I started college she encouraged me to do something with kids. Said I had a way with the little kids while I lived there.”

“Do you see her often?”

“She died a few months after I started school.”

“You mean she was dead when you went through the thing with the girl?”

Rico raised and lowered his chin, almost imperceptibly.

Olivia stared down at him. The correlation hit. The only people he had cared about had disappeared from his life. Died or abandoned him. He had no one to love and no one to love him. He didn’t choose this life to get drug dealers off the street, he chose it to isolate himself from relationships. Insolate himself from being hurt. Maybe get him killed.

No
, that wasn’t it. He possessed the strongest survival instinct she’d ever seen or heard about. For God’s sake, at ten he’d made lists of what he needed to do to survive. And here, all the precautions, safe guards. This was a man who wanted to live, standing tall showing the world he could make it all alone no matter what was thrown at him.

“Did you ever try to find your dad?” she blurted.

“No. And…”

“And what?” she urged.

“I’m not sure he really was my dad.”

“What? What are you saying?”

He pushed himself up on his elbows. “I’m saying I don’t think he was my father.”

Her mind raced. Was he in denial his father would do that? Or did he know something?

“Why?”
Crap.
Why did she have to ask? He was drawing her too deep into his life. First he showed her what he really looked like and now he was sharing this.

“I get memory flashes. Things he said.”

She wasn’t about to ask any more questions, and lay back down against him.

“He said he got me to be a part of his con.”

Got him?
She suppressed a shudder.

“Once, when he was drunk, he said he should take me back. I think he meant he should take me to my mother.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She wanted to say,
Stop! I don’t want to hear any more.

After a long stretch of silence he said, “You’re the only person I’ve ever told. The only one I’ve felt I could tell.”

A cool breeze washed over them and Olivia shivered, not from the chill but the realization that, no matter how hard she had tried to prevent it, he had reached inside and touched her heart.