Undercover Heat (10 page)

“You okay?” Her gaze focused on his arm. “This thing d
oesn’t want to stop bleeding.”

“Huh?”

“This is the second time I’ve dressed it.” She cast him a disapproving scowl. “I don’t think the alcohol in your
system is helping your cause.”

He couldn’t agree more. His stomach lurched, and the stench of antiseptic burned his nose. When his eyes finally focused, he noticed the low burn of the fire
.

“And in case you don’t remember, the fat lip is my doing. I would offer my apology, but you deserved it.”

He ran his tongue over the fresh scab. He’d forgotten about her years of martial arts training during the run of “Undercover Heat.” Her dancing skills made her a natural, and despite her size she packed quite a punch. Or kick for that matter. “Sensei Bill would be proud,” he said. “You still have a mean right hook.”

“I keep up on the skills. It’s good for self-defense. There’s a
lot of crazy people out there.”

The wrinkle in her brow indicated she was referring more to the nut in front of her than anyone else. “Carrie, I’m sorry. You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“I think you scared yourself more than me,” she said. “You know the first time I came in here to check your arm, you were tossing and turning. It was almost like you were having a nightmare or something.” She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“You’re sure?”

When he saw Carrie reach for the light, he pulled her back to the bed. “Don’t do that. Leave it dark.”

“Okay...
”

He tossed off the sheets and climbed out of bed. Naked, save for his boxers. Wonderful, the poor woman had to undress him too. How much more of a jerk could he possibly be? He jabbed the button on the side of the fireplace. The flames came to life, casting orange shadows in the dark room.

“It just seems strange
.
” Carrie scratched the side of her head. “I’ve never known you to have nightmares. You always sleep like a rock.”

He leaned on the mantle, staring at the knotty hardwood at his feet. “I don’t know. It happens now and them.”

“Tell me about it.”

His eye traveled over her, and he was stunned how she was the exact incarnation of the image that haunted him. The porcelain skin, the bedroom eyes. He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose and turned back toward the fire. “It takes place here in the farmhouse, but not really. There’s smoke but no fire, and I’m trying to find you. I can’t, but you keep calling for help, and t
he baby… our baby… is crying...”
He exhaled. Guilt, shame something cramped him. His legs weakened under him, so he went back to the bed, flinching when Carrie slipped her hand over his shoulder. “When I get to you, you’re holding the baby at the top of the stairs, and just when I think I get there in time, you fall. And my hands...” He held them out in front of them. “They’re covered in blood.”

That was it, as far as he could go. He scrubbed his face with his sticky palms and swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat.

Ty wasn’t sure what her father had told her. Probably something awful like he didn’t want the baby in the first place, or that he was angry at her for being sick. Either way, he was sure it was the furthest thing from the truth. “I never should have left you that mornin
g in the first place,” he said.

“And I should have accepted your help a lot sooner. Just like you should accept mine now.”

“What are you talking about?”

She climbed out of bed and knelt down in front of him. “I can’t stand to see you like this,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Something’s eating away at you, and if you have something you need to get off your chest now is
the time to do it.”

“Are you kidding me? After everything I’ve put you through you’re worried about me?”

“I can’t stand seeing you self destruct this way,” Carrie whispered. “The drinking, the wild behavior. It doesn’t help anything.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Somehow she was in his arms and like a drowning man hanging on to a life line he held her. If he could just stay right here with this woman, he’d be okay. He could feel it. The energy that passed between them. Just her closeness could heal him.

“You’re bleeding, again.” Carrie pulled away and ran her hand over the gash on his arm. “This is really bad. Like, ‘stitches’ bad.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I don’t want it to get infected.” Gently, she unwound the bloody gauze. “How did you do this anyway?”

“The ladder slipped. I think I hit the
metal girder on the way down.”

She stood up to her full height and frowned. “Let me dress it again. The fir
st aid kit is in the bathroom.”

She came back with the box, towels, and a small bowl of water. Again, she knelt down beside him. “So last night, when I came home, you certainly were in a mood. Why were you going to leave all of a sudden?”

If there was a right answer, Lord knows he didn’t have it. She turned back to her task. Carrie’s touch could calm any storm. He took a deep breath, letting the
scent of lilacs pass over him.

“When did you get this tattoo?”

His body tensed. Never in his wildest imagination did he ever think she’d see it. “A few yea
rs back.”

“Who’s J.H?”

“A character in a movie I was in,” he answered quickly.

“Well, you’re in luck. I think you just missed ruining it. Although I still think a doctor should look at this. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“Before I left for
Italy
.”

“What if I call Russ?”

“Don’t do that.” That was the last thing he needed. Russ running over to play doctor, when they both knew he’d rather euthanize him. “It’s not necessary. You fussing over me is more than en
ough. You done yet by the way?”

“In a minute
.
” She wrapped a bandage once and then twice around. He smiled at the way her little pink tongue stuck out the side as she concentrated on her task. “Okay, I think that will hold. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll get you some pain pills.”

“Carrie, wait.” He grabbed the hem of her nightgown, bringing her back to the side of the bed. “About last night. When you left to go to Lizzie’s, you were mad. And what I said to you when you got back...” He nodded to the doorway. “I was way out of line.”

“Yeah, you were.”

“Promise me that if I ever act that way toward you again, you treat me to another right hook.”

She winked and slid her hand down the side of his cheek. “Deal.”

His settled back against the pillow and his body drifted. He imagined her climbing in bed beside him, just like she used to. The way she curled into him and rested her head against his chest. God, he loved to hold her, and when she was pregnant rubbed her swollen belly and whispered how much he loved her. “You would have been a good mother, darlin,” he heard himself say. “I mean that.”

Their child. He would have had a daughter. A sweet little baby girl. He thought of the nurse handing him the envelope a
nd finding what it held inside.

He took a deep breath and drifted further. “Jamie Hollister,” he mumbled. “Daddy’s little angel.”

Chapter Seven

“Darn truck.”

Carrie pulled the key from the ignition and blew out a breath through her chattering teeth. She should have stayed in bed. Had it not been for her perfect attendance record at Sunday Mass she would have considered it. Heck, if she knew the truck wouldn’t start, it wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, and uttered a curse she
’d have to say a Hail Mary for.

Situations beyond her control drove her craziest.

She jumped down to the snow, slammed the door, and glared at the heap like her anger might change its mind. If it was summer, or at least a few degrees warmer, she’d walk. Two miles wasn’t that far, but in a foot and half snow pack, wearing a skirt, it might as well be a marathon.
She yanked on her sleeve and glanced at her watch. Too late to call Lizzie and Russ for a
ride. They’d already be there.

She scanned the overcast landscape, before her gaze settled on the big yellow hummer next to the barn. It was an eyesore for sure, but as ugly as it was, she bet it would start. She glanced up at Ty’s bedroom window. She still had the keys next to her bed, from when she took them from him the night before. He wouldn’t mind if she drove it. The rest of the town on the other hand might. A new car in
Middle
Valley
was headline news, and if word leaked out about whom it really belonged to, she’d h
ear about it clear into spring.

She kicked an ice chunk with her suede boot. Still this really was an extenuating circumstance, and maybe if she was willing to go to such lengths to get to Mass, the least God could do was bless her with anonymity. Her decision made, she ran upstairs and quietly retrieved the keys from her bedside table.

Minutes later, she slid into the pew beside Lizzie, for the most part unnoticed by the rest of the congregation. Father Lepchen had just finished his morning blessing, and the children were being dismissed for Sunday school classes. Frazzled mothers wiped faces and straightened collars, before letting them loose on the million-year-old Miss Betsy, who waited in the atrium on the side of the alter. Carrie made a quick sign of the cross, thanking God it wasn’t her day to teach. The last thing she needed was a rectory full of wide-eyed six-year-olds asking about
Miss Carrie’s big yellow truck.

“You okay?” Lizzie whispered, slipping the scarf from around Carrie’s neck. “Not like you to be late for anything.”

“I’m sorry. The truck wouldn’t start.”

“You should have called. We would have picked you up.” Lizzie motioned to
Russ beside her.

“Good morning, Russell.” Carrie reached over and touched his leg. When he turned toward her, Carrie gasped. His eye was swollen shut, and a gory combination of purple orange and yellow. “Oh my
G
od, what happened to you?”

“Shhh.” He motioned with his finger in front of his lips. “It’s no big deal.”

“He went out for a walk last night and fell on the ice
,
” Lizzie explained. “I would have insisted he see a doctor if he wasn’t one himself.”

“Discuss it later, girls,” Russ mumbled, nodding to the priest, who cast a damning look in their direction. Carrie bowed her head with the rest of the congregation, and
a hush settled over the church.

Father Lepchen opened his Bible and cleared his throat. Carrie was mid prayer, when
the heavy wooden doors behind her creaked open and slammed with an echoing thud.

The intrusion drew eyes to the source, and Carrie looked, too, at the heathen late-comer. She blinked twice before her eyes widened in shock. “Hey, does anyone in here know where the driver of that hummer out there is?”

The guy wore torn jeans, a leather jacket with chains attached, and neon pink frosted hair. He scanned the crowd, before he jogged down the
a
isle in Carrie’s direction. “Sorry,” he announced to the church while making a weird sort of Sign of The Cross-salute combination. “I don't mean to interrupt Reverend, Priest, Your Honor but I’m looking for-”

“Manny!” Carrie jumped up from her seat and grabbed him by the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The old ladies in the front row gasped, offended by her language, no doubt. She bit her tongue and apologized, then adjusted her volume to a stage whisper. “If you’re looking for Ty, he’s back at the farm house.”

“Great, you about finished here? Because the sooner the better.”

She glanced around the church. Every eye fixed on her, except the old ladies whose were pressed closed in fierce prayer. For her benefit no doubt, and she was oddly glad for the consideration. Lizzie and Russ sat silent beside her. Explanations would have to wait, although knowing her sister probably not very long. In fact, if Carrie didn’t want to be the hot topic in the church bulletin next week, she’d have to get out of there. Now.

“Let’s go,” Carrie said, tugging on Manny’s sleeve. He followed and even offered a genuflect-turned-bow on his way out the door.

“God, why do churches always smell like rotten
eggs?
” Manny stood at the top of the steps and fanned his hand in front of his nose. “How can you sit in there for an hour?”

“It’s incense.”

“You mean nonsense?”

“No, I mean the smell. It’s incense.” Carrie shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

Carrie grabbed his shoulder and dragged him down the steps. She led him to the courtyard on the side and stopped in front of the snow cove
red stature of the Virgin Mary.

“Look, I didn’t mean to
crash your party
,
” Manny said.

“I don’t suppose you did, but up here, Manny, we don’t interrupt church services because you can’t get through to someone on a cell phone.”

“I’m sorry, but I saw the Hummer, and I figured I could snag him and bring him back to the city. He’s been MIA for three days, and when that happens I get nervous.” He jammed his hand in his pockets and kicked the snow from his Doc Martins. His pout reminded Carrie of a child who’d been scolded, and in spite of herself, she smiled.

“You look like you could use some breakfast,” she said, then rubbed her hand on his sleeve. “Go get your car. You can follow me to the farm house.”

“Car?” He raised his brow. “I didn’t drive up here.”

Carrie took a deep breath, before daring herself to glance in the direction of his nod. Across the street, sat a stretch limo, idling next to
the faded “Bingo Tonight” sign.

She cringed and brushed the hair from her eyes. “Go get your stuff,” she said. “And tell the driver there’s a diner a few miles down. You can call him later from my place.”

Carrie watched him jog across the street and return with a huge official looking briefcase. It seemed out of place in the hand of a guy sporting black nail polish.

The Hummer was still warm when they piled inside. Carrie hunted for the wipers and waited for the defrost to disperse the fog, while Manny furiously rubbed his hands together. “Man, how do you live up here?” He sniffled. “I spent four years in
Boston
for college, but the winters were never like this.”

“You learn to love it.”
She turned out on the road. “It’s quiet. The living is easy. The weather isn’t always great, but its home.”

He sat back in his seat and looked out the window. “I’m sorry Carrie Ann, I should have known better than to make a scene like that. People in show biz aren’t the religious types. I just thought that after the stripper incident in
Cleveland
a few years back, he would have learned a lesson or two about letting his women drive his cars.”

Ty’s women?
She considered being offended by the label, but let it go instead. “Well, he doesn’t actually know I have it,” she confessed. “But maybe, just this once he’ll make an exception.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s much trouble to find up here anyway. Maybe that’s the key to managing Ty. Keep him isolated so he can’t cause problems. My hats off to you Carrie for babysitting him. I needed the R and R.”

“The job is that tough, huh?”

He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Ty like a brother, but sometimes it gets pretty hard to watch someone self destruct.”

Her hands fisted around the wheel. As a person who’d experienced the dirty world of
Hollywood
gossip, she knew sometimes stories were embellished and fabricated. Over the years, she had turned a blind eye to the wild tales. But after last night, she was beginning to believe there was more truth to the gossip than she thought. “Manny, the stories in the tabloids. Are they really all true?”

He dragged his fingers through his fuchsia hair. “Carrie, there are so many I really can
’t keep them straight anymore.”

“Maybe he’s upset about Layla.”

“No way. He was like this long before she even showed up. She just happened to be conniving enough to get him to
a Vegas chapel and say ‘I do’.”

She wasn’t sure why, but Manny’s assessment of Ty and Layla’s marriage offered her a strange sort of relief. She decided to file it away and think about it later. “You know he wasn’t always like this,” she said. “I mean his behavior. Back when we were working together, he was a different person.”

“Well, I don’t think he has a clue who he is now. He’s got some serious issues. Sometimes I think he just likes just being a Do
uchebag. You know what I mean?”

She had a pretty good clue. Last night she saw a side of Ty she’d never seen. But she got the impression that the Ty she knew was a
stranger to the man beside her.

“He’s d
ifferent with you, Carrie Ann.”

She startled, like he had heard her thoughts.
“
Excuse m
e?”

“He’s different,” he said. “Like at the studio when you were doing that interview, and then when we w
ere in the diner. He just seems...
” He tilted his head, as if searching for the words. “Mellowed out. Like he’s all there.”

Carrie laughed at the assessment. She liked Manny. He was brash and green, but she could tell he truly cared about his boss, a quality sometimes lacking in
Hollywood
assistants. Ty was lucky to have found him. “Well, maybe all the press stuff has gotten to him.”

“Could be. That’s actually the reason for my coming up here. More fires to put out.” He pulled the leather satchel onto his lap. “You might be interested in it, too.”

When she pulled into the driveway, Ty was under the hood of the truck. He tossed whatever tool he held in his hand back into the box beside him and met her at the car door. “So the Hummer isn’t so bad after all, huh
Langley
.”

“Extenuating circumstance.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Ty nodded to the open hood of her pickup. “Truck needs a starter by the way. So did Father Lepchen like your new ride?”

“I didn’t stay long enough to ask.” Carrie tossed him the keys and slid down from the seat into the snow. “I left half-way through.”

“I hope not on my account.”

“Nope, not yours.” She nodded toward the passenger side. “His. You’ve got company.”

The far door slammed, and a tuft of pink hair made its way around the hood. Ty laughed out loud when he saw its owner. “Christ, Manny, what the hell did you do to your hair?”

“Party in
Soho
last night. You like it?”

“
Soho
, huh?” Ty braced himself on Carrie’s shoulder and laughed some more. “Looks more like
Sesame Street
to me.”

Manny rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m freezing. Can we please go inside and talk?”

“Of course.” Carrie cast a disapproving glance at Ty. “Let me get you some coffee and something to eat.”

Ty still snickered, when they headed into the house. Pleased to see the coffee already brewing, Carrie went straight to the pantry to retrieve the banana bread she had baked the night before. When she came back to the kitchen, Manny sat at the table, his jacket still on, and his head buried in his open briefcase.

“This better be good, Phipher,” Ty warned, delivering Manny his coffee, then heading back to the counter to retrieve the other two. “I had my eye on that bread for breakfast. And I’m not into sharing.”

“Neither is Layla
.
”

Ty lowered the mug from his lips and leaned against the sink. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I don’t mean to be a smart ass, but I really think you need to give this your full attention.”

The smile faded from Ty’s face. “What are you talking about man?”

Manny went back to his briefcase and rifled around, until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a stack of newspapers, and slid the one on top across the table. “This appeared yesterday morning in the Times. It’s been the talk of the town ever since.”