Текст книги "Burn It Up"

Автор книги: Cara McKenna

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Casey frowned, a touch upended. Stay cool. Don’t fuck up. Don’t mention the ranch. “Fine. A phone call. You call this number at nine o’clock sharp, tonight, and I’ll have her there.” Arguing with the guy himself wasn’t getting anybody any closer to figuring out his game, anyhow.

“Fine,” Ware spat. “Nine o’clock.”

“Fine,” Casey echoed, and ended the call. He bellowed a cuss up into the blue sky, resisted the urge to slam that fucking phone down against the asphalt.

Chapter 12

The sky outside the guest room was bright blue as Abilene’s eyes blinked open, the day already in full swing. Her stomach rumbled. Best to get herself fed before the baby got the same idea.

She dressed Mercy in a fleece onesie and lugged her out onto the landing, smelling bacon. No doubt any leftovers would be cold by now, any eggs already devoured, but a cup of coffee and some toast would be welcome. And some company.

Casey had woken her when he’d risen at five, but she’d pretended to be asleep. She’d strained for a muttered cuss, for any tiny sign that he might have regretted waking up in her bed, but nothing. He’d just slipped out quietly to take care of his errands, leaving an all-too-fleeting warm patch on his side of the mattress.

She smiled to herself as she came down the steps. Coffee was nice, toast was good, but neither held the skinniest little stump of a birthday candle to the feel of a warm man hugging you through the night. She wouldn’t get attached to the sensation, but if ever in her life she’d needed to feel that, this week was the time.

“Hey.” The voice made her jump as she passed through the den, and Casey sat up on the couch, revealing himself. Her shock must’ve shown. “Sorry. Morning.”

“Morning. You done with all your stuff you had to do?”

He stood, nodded. Man, that body already looked different—already felt like hers, calling to her from these few paces away. He closed the distance, stroking his hand over the baby’s head. Abilene knew exactly what that rough palm felt like, and yearned for a little taste of contact. Just a whisper of his fingertips across her cheek. Anything. Junkie.

“Glad you got to sleep in,” he said. “You ready for breakfast?”

“Coffee, for sure.”

He waved an arm to tell her to go ahead of him, and she did, feeling shy.

“Sit tight.” He gestured toward the kitchen table. “I’ll make it. Cream and three sugars.”

She smiled at his back, chanced flirtation. “Can’t resist a man who knows how I take my coffee.”

“You think that now, but I’m about to wreck your day.”

Her smile wilted. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply. He came back with a mug and set it at her elbow. Then he sat himself, his cool expression casting that warm glow right out of her, like a blanket yanked from her shoulders.

A million awful scenarios rushed through her mind, the worst of them undoubtedly being that he was about to tell her she needed to go somewhere else. Far from this lovely old oasis of a house, maybe even far from Casey. Maybe into an actual safe house, into protective custody, where no doubt some authorities would be wanting to know more about her identity and her past than she was willing to share.

“What? Tell me.”

Casey rapped the tabletop with his knuckles. Sighed. “He called.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, not after last night. Talk about gall. “What did he have to say?”

“He denied coming by, no surprise. I wanted to tell him to forget it all. Forget getting to see you after that—” He caught whatever cuss would’ve followed just in time. “After what he pulled last night. But I had to calm myself down. Remember that nothing about this is going to get any better until we know where he stands. And the fact is, he’s likely to be straight with you, not any of us.”

“Probably.”

“Maybe angry, maybe a little scary, but I’m willing to bet he’ll tell you what’s on his mind. You know him well enough to read between the lines? Sense if he’s upset enough to try to hurt you?”

“I’d like to think so . . . But I’ve never given him this big a reason to be pissed before.” She touched the baby’s head fretfully, wondering how bad a swear “pissed” was. Probably small potatoes compared to the stuff Casey routinely let slip.

“I told him to call again at nine tonight, and that you’d speak to him. It’s really the only option. You up for that?”

“No. But I’ll get myself there, all the same.” She didn’t dare give James any more cause to spill his concerns to Casey or anybody else. The illusion of her innocence had never been so crucial as it was now. Being brave was the only option, lousy as she was at it. There was so much more riding on all this than her reputation, she thought, jiggling the baby when she fussed. There was the safety of everyone around her, of course, but beyond that . . . She owed it to her daughter to be stronger. Owed it to her to be the protective female role model Abilene hadn’t had herself.

Casey swung his legs over the bench. “I’ll get a bottle warmed up.”

“Thanks.”

“You want me with you, when you talk to him?” he asked as he measured the formula.

“No.” No, definitely not.

She thought back to this morning and last night—to every time Casey had shifted in the night and roused her, every moment she’d gotten to spend next to him. She hadn’t felt that secure in ages. Maybe not since before the great scandal of her teen years. Maybe not since she’d been a little girl, totally oblivious to sex. Even then there’d been the specter of an angry God hanging over her . . . But, man, had she ever come a long way from those original sins, from stealing mints from her grandma’s purse or whispering newly gleaned swearwords to herself, trying on what it must feel like to be a bad kid. If only she’d known just how bad she’d turn out . . .

Casey heated the formula and passed it off, sitting close as Abilene coaxed the baby to suckle.

“You scared?” he asked her.

“Yeah. I am. But I can’t put it off anymore.” After she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d been so frightened of what James would say, of what he might threaten, she’d avoided him for far too long. It had been easy to, when he’d been locked up a hundred miles away. That wasn’t an option now—he knew where to find her. And it wasn’t an option going forward, not if she wanted to keep the promise she’d made to herself and be a better person for Mercy. The old Abilene ran and hid. The new one had to find the courage to keep her feet planted and face her mistakes.

“No matter what he says,” Casey said, gaze on the nursing baby, “you’ll feel better, after. Just having it done with.”

“I hope so.” Provided what he said wasn’t, I’m gonna get our child taken away from you. She held Mercy a little tighter.

“You will,” Casey said. “Uncertainty’s always worse than whatever reality you’re putting off facing.” He looked thoughtful a moment, then spoke softly. “Just know that whatever happens, and no matter how bad it might be . . . If he turns out to be a monster, like the worst possible scenario you could imagine, just know he’ll be taken care of.”

She studied his face, unsure. “You mean like . . .” You mean what? That you’d run him out of town? That you’d kill him? Casey’s shady reputation notwithstanding, she couldn’t imagine him going there. Vince? Maybe. Just maybe. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if it comes down to your safety or the baby’s safety . . .” He shrugged, leaving her upended. Spending the night with him had been heaven, but this conversation was a stark reminder that this man who treated her so well was still far from a saint. She needed to keep that reality at the forefront of her mind, to combat the weakness of her body and her heart.

Unless James went psycho—which wasn’t beyond possibility, if he’d stooped to stalking her—he didn’t deserve a beat down. What he deserved, in fact, was answers. She steeled herself, trusting that everything would be better once she’d talked to him.

It was only too bad that the anticipation was such a bitch.

•   •   •

Abilene looked up as Casey squeezed her foot. They were sitting on the couch, her lying down, trying to breathe deep, and him sitting at one end with the dozy baby propped on his lap. She could hear Miah and his father talking in the ranch’s office down the hall, two matching, distant baritones, and also the drone of the radio in the kitchen, where Christine was puttering.

“Almost time,” Casey said. He was acting calm, though he had his silver lighter in one hand and was turning it around and around.

Abilene eyed the clock, heart thumping hard and quick. Five minutes to nine.

Casey shifted the baby’s weight and dug in his pocket, handed her his phone. It was a chunky old thing, branded with the logo of a pay-as-you-go carrier. He had a smartphone, too, and she wondered anew why he needed both.

Bet I don’t want to know.

“I think I’ll—” She jumped as the thing buzzed in her hand, breath leaving her in a whoosh. “I’ll go upstairs,” she finished, and hurried out of the den. She ran up the steps, huffing and shaky as she hit TALK on the third ring and managed to say, “Hello?”

“Abilene?” That familiar voice, deep and cool and hard, like an echo from a grave.

“Yeah. Hang on.” She slipped inside her room and shut the door. Once she was cross-legged on the bed, she said, “Okay.”

There was a pause before he replied, the noise of a word nearly being spoken, then not. A long breath hissed through the line. “Well.”

“I’m ready to talk.” She hugged her middle with her free arm. Her back ached and she was shaking like she’d drunk ten coffees.

“Good. It’s about goddamn time. What the fuck have you been playing me for, shutting me out? I find out from Vince Grossier that you’re even pregnant to begin with; then you won’t even do me the courtesy of a visit? Or a fucking phone call?”

“I know. But I was scared, after the way we ended things.”

“Scared of what?”

“That you’d be mad.”

“That I’d hurt you?”

“Maybe.”

“If I was cold enough to hurt you, I’d have been cold enough to leave your ass exactly where I found it, now, wouldn’t I?”

“I was scared of more than just that. I was scared you’d have wanted me to get rid of it. Or that once she was born you might try to take her away, because of . . . because of how I was. When we met.”

“It crossed my mind, don’t doubt it. But, sweetheart, you really think an ex-con stands a chance at getting custody of his kid?”

Sweetheart. She’d gotten so used to hearing a different man call her honey, that word sounded obscene coming from this one.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. If some social worker investigated her past, they wouldn’t be impressed, and they’d also discover she was employed under a fake name, that she’d had no permanent address in six years, that she’d been a teenage runaway. Ex-con was bad, but was she really any less problematic, on paper?

“So why have you been hiding?” he asked.

“I have it real good now. Not perfect, but I have a job I like. Friends I like.”

“Friends who don’t know the real you?” James supplied, reading between the lines.

“I might not have all my crap together,” she said, “but I’m working on it. And there’s a lot I could lose, if you decided to tell people how I was, when you met me.” Raina might’ve looked the other way about her lying to get her job at Benji’s, but Duncan wasn’t half as lax about legalities. As for Casey . . . She couldn’t bear to have him find out who she really was.

“You think I’d try to fuck all that up for you?” James asked.

“Maybe I did. I mean, I saw how you can get, with folks who crossed you.” He didn’t just hold grudges—he went after people. He hurt people. She didn’t think he enjoyed it, necessarily, but he could go there, and coldly. Easily. Like it was just part of the gig.

“You’re not some shitbag who stiffed me on business. You’re the mother of my child . . . Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“She’s yours,” Abilene said in a small voice. “It could have only been you.”

“I’m choosing to believe that. But it was fucked-up, you keeping me in the dark all this time. It was cruel, and it was selfish.”

“I know. But I was scared. I had no idea how you’d react, what you’d do. And I doubted you’d want a child, especially with me, so I told myself it was a kindness, to not bother you about it. Plus I was sick of relying on men all the time. I thought it’d be easier, just dealing with it on my own.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Vince said he had to tell you.”

“And you would’ve just let me go on with my life, never knowing about it, if he hadn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s pretty fucking cold. You think that little of me, that I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, go and deal with our mistake, all on our own?”

“She’s not a mistake,” Abilene cut in sharply, her spine snapping smartly into place. Beat her down all you liked, but don’t bring her baby into it.

“Fine—our little miscalculation. You think I’d just be like, ‘Fuck you, bitch. Not my problem’?”

“I wanted to deal with it on my own. I had a job and a place to stay. I wanted to leave all that ugly stuff behind me and make something better for her.”

“You heaping me in with all the ugly stuff?”

“You knew the old me. I didn’t want that following me.” No witnesses, no judgment.

“Guess maybe you fucked up, then, telling Vince Grossier.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know anybody, only his name, and that he lived in Fortuity.” James had called her when he’d been arrested and told her to find Vince if she ever needed a favor. Like an olive branch he’d held out after the way things ended, she’d thought in hindsight. “I had no choice. I had to see a doctor once I knew, and I needed money.”

He sighed through the line. Abilene rubbed her foot; the thing felt like ice.

“I’m trying to make this right now,” she said, firmly and without apology. It wasn’t a voice he’d be used to hearing from her—the time they’d spent together had been typified by an erratic mix of honey and venom. But this was the new Abilene, ready or not. “What do you need to say, or to hear?”

“That you’re safe and the kid’s safe. Where’s your head been at? You been tempted to use at all?”

“No. Not for a minute. Not even coffee until after she was born. I have it good now. Not much money, but my bosses treat me well.” Back when she’d gotten caught up in the drugs, she’d had nothing in her life. No true friends, no job, nothing worth waking up for. Now she had more than plenty.

“Where you staying?”

Like you don’t know. “With friends. But I’ll find a new place soon. Just for me and the baby.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mercy.”

A pause. “That’s nice. What’s her last name?”

“I didn’t have much choice but to give her mine. My real one.”

Another pause. “You never did tell me your real name.”

No, she hadn’t. Only that the one she used was fake. “I will soon. When you meet her, maybe.”

“When’ll that be?”

“Soon,” she repeated, brooking no argument.

“You in Fortuity?” he asked.

Seeing as how he knew precisely where she was, it seemed pointless to lie. “Yeah.” Why did you run? she wanted to ask. How did you find me at the ranch? But things felt like they’d taken a civil turn, and she didn’t want to spark a fight.

“What’s she look like?” James asked.

“She’s real pretty. Blue eyes, more like yours than mine. She was a couple weeks early, so she’s on the small side, but catching up quick.”

“Tell me when I can see her.”

“I need to talk to Casey and everyone, but maybe tomorrow.”

“Why do you need to talk to them? And who’s everyone?”

“Him and Vince, and some friends of theirs. Some friends of mine,” she hazarded. “And they’re protective. Nobody knew what to expect from you—including Vince, and he was the one who broke the news. You wouldn’t tell him what your intentions were when you wanted to find me. And you were angry, he said.”

“Because it was none of his goddamn business. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to him.”

“That’s fair. But they’ll want to be around, to make sure it goes okay. Leave me your number, and I’ll talk to the people whose place I’m staying at and figure out a time. Okay? I’ll call you tomorrow by noon at the latest.”

“Fine.”

She found a notebook and pen and wrote down his number. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Hope to God you do,” he said. “Good night.”

“Night.”

She stared at the phone until he ended the call and the screen went dark, then hauled her shaky butt off the bed and went downstairs.

•   •   •

Casey was on the couch, foot jittering a million miles a minute.

Across from him, Miah sat in an old rocker with the baby asleep on his lap. “Keep that up and your ankle’s gonna catch fire.”

“I—” Casey’s head jerked up at the click of a doorknob overhead and he watched as Abilene emerged from the guest room. She smiled down at them as she headed for the stairs.

What did that smile mean? Relief? Maybe. Though with Abilene, a smile could just as easily precede her bursting into tears, so he wasn’t banking on it. He stood and grabbed his beer off the coffee table, just for something to do with his hands.

She headed for the baby first, leaning down to touch her in some way Casey couldn’t see.

“So?” he prompted, dying of impatience.

“You want me to take her?” she asked Miah.

“Nah, she’s settled now,” he said. “You two need to talk in private?”

She nodded and turned to Casey. “My room?”

He was already striding for the steps.

“Holler if she starts fussing,” Abilene called back.

“Will do.” Miah clicked on the TV, the drone of the news offering a little extra discretion as Casey and Abilene entered her room. Casey sat on the edge of the bed, clenching his hands so tight between his knees his knuckles went white.

She shut the door and turned to him, pulling his cell from her hoodie’s pocket. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He took it. “So what happened? How’d it go?”

“Could you hear anything?”

“Only that you were talking, not yelling.”

She sat cross-legged at the end of the bed. Casey turned and did the same so he could face her.

“Tell me.”

“He was angry. Frustrated.”

“What’d he say to you?”

“That he wants to see her. Both of us. That I owe him that.”

“He scare you?”

She took a moment to reply, staring thoughtfully at his feet. “Yes and no. I don’t think he wants to hurt us. And I don’t think he wants to try to take the baby away from me. He’s mad, but mostly because I kept so much from him. He’s an in-charge kind of guy, and I don’t think he handles feeling helpless very well.”

“Clearly not, if he came around here last night. What’d he have to say about that?”

“I didn’t ask. I almost did, but by then he seemed way less angry, and I thought maybe it was best to keep him that way. Keep him talking.”

Casey nodded. “I’m dying to know who told him where to find you.” Perhaps he could make that information a condition of a face-to-face meeting. Casey still needed to have a little chat with John Dancer, and maybe a second, depending on whether the person who’d spilled about Abilene’s location had done it for a payoff, or simply to keep all their bones unbroken.

“Miah’s gonna have words for your ex,” he said, thinking aloud. “Fuck with his property and his business, and that charming cowboy shtick falls away real fast. Maybe I’ll leave that to him, and you and I can just focus on establishing some kind of civil discourse, or whatever, with Ware.”

“I told him I’d see him. That I’d call him tomorrow to arrange a time, after I checked with the Churches.”

His heart kicked back into third gear. “You sure you’re ready?”

“I’m sick of hiding—I know that much. I’m sick of being afraid of him, and the unknown. And I want to be able to go back to work soon, get back to normal.”

He nodded. “Course you do. Tomorrow, huh?”

“For the call, maybe the meeting, too. It’s up to Miah and his folks, ultimately, if James is going to meet me here.”

“And you’re going to let him see the baby?”

“If it goes well, I said. If he keeps his cool.”

“And you’re sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” She curled up on her side, hair falling over the edge of the bed. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll stay close, and we’ll make sure either Vince or Miah can be here, too.”

“You going to eavesdrop?” she asked, something cagey in her expression.

Casey shook his head. “I’ll stay close enough to hear if you call for us. We’ll probably need to pat him down and hold his car keys, too. Hope he can handle the prisoner treatment.”

“He’s had enough practice,” she muttered.

Casey sighed, sensing her weariness and registering it in his own bones. He lay down, too, body curled the opposite way as hers, so they were face-to-face, upside down. A small silent laugh hitched her shoulders, a gesture of exhaustion, not amusement.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so.”

He reached up to take her hand, their fingers twining. “It’s a shame he couldn’t have explained himself to Vince, saved us all the trouble of putting you in lockdown.”

“We were . . . We’ve got an intense history. He’s mad about more than he must be comfortable sharing with anyone but me.”

Casey nodded, ignoring the way his stomach soured.

In nearly no time, he’d grown possessive of this girl, and hearing her say those words—history, intense—made his insides squirm in a way he wasn’t used to. His relationships had all been so frivolous, he’d rarely gotten close enough to a girlfriend to feel jealous this way. He’d been in love, or thought he had been. He’d said those words to a couple women over the years, and meant them. But could it really have been that deep, when he’d barely registered a fraction of this sting before, and when it had always been so easy to move on, once the fun faded and the expectations began to weigh him down?

By all accounts, Abilene should have him running for the hills. She was dependent, to say nothing of her child. She was a train wreck in ways he couldn’t entirely pinpoint, and her baggage was big enough to cram an ex-con into. Whatever else was in there, he was afraid to know. And he didn’t need to know. They weren’t a couple, wouldn’t ever be; plus nobody was a completely open book. There were always a couple pages glued to the cover. Always a few unknowns.

He chanced one last squeeze of her fingers before letting them go. “I’m real proud of you for talking to him.”

She shrugged. “I’m real ashamed of how scared I was. How much worry I put everybody through, avoiding it for so long.”

“You did your best in a fucked-up situation.”

“Doesn’t feel like I did.”

“Honey, if you could see all the shitty decisions I’ve made in my life, or Vince, or Raina . . . Anybody except Miah, basically. You’d think we were all the biggest dumb-asses you ever met. Fucking things up is just part of life. The best you can hope for is that you get most of it done before you hit thirty.”

“I have a child, though.”

“Well, fine. Thirty or parenthood, whichever comes first.”

And even thirty was pushing it—Casey hadn’t begun to clean up his act until last summer, after all, and how old had Vince been the last time he’d been put away? Thirty-two, probably.

Way out of left field, Abilene whispered, “Do you believe in God?”

He shook his head against the covers. “No. You do, though.”

“Yeah. I used to wear a cross, even. Constantly. In the shower, to bed, all the time. It was silver, on a silver chain. I lost it last winter, right around the time some things started going extra-wrong.”

He smiled. “You think God was punishing you, for losing it?”

“No, more like maybe somebody upstairs decided I didn’t deserve to wear it anymore.”

“Now, that’s just nonsense.”

“It’s how I feel . . . I think I’d like to start going to church again. Not a church like I grew up in, but something, I dunno, low-key.”

“There’s a Unitarian place downtown. Aren’t they supposed to be pretty liberal?”

“Maybe I’ll check it out. I don’t think I’ve gone more than a dozen times since I left home. It used to be such a huge part of my life . . .” She trailed off, eyes unfocused, thoughts folded up deep inside. After a minute or more she said, “I think I might like to get another one. A cross, I mean. Save up a little money.”

“Like a reminder to keep your shit together, when you look in the mirror?”

“Something like that.”

He smiled. He’d wanted to be able to buy her something, something not too gift-y, but more meaningful than the diaper rash cream or hair elastics she might ask him to pick up at the drugstore. Was she thinking of the plain old cross kind, or a hard-core crucifix with the tiny suffering Jesus and all that . . . ?

“I’d better go relieve Miah,” she said, pushing herself up to sitting.

“Okay.” Casey rose to follow her. She was probably exhausted from all the stress, but he was wired. Maybe Miah felt like a movie or a game of cards.

Abilene turned with her hand on the doorknob, looking him up and down. “You don’t need to go.”

“I figured you must be wiped and that I’d give you some space.”

She turned fully, leaning back against the door. “I feel better with you than I do just by myself.” Her tone was shy, maybe nervous. “I mean, if you felt like hanging out, that is.”

Hanging out? What did that mean, exactly? A heart-to-heart, or another collision, like yesterday afternoon? He swallowed. “Whatever you need.”

What the girl needed, of course, was more than he had to give—a future, for one, and security. Not security like he was offering, playing bodyguard this week, but the real stuff. That C-word he’d been running from his entire life—commitment. And yet . . .

Maybe it was the possessive caveman in him not wanting to imagine her with anybody else, but some selfish part of Casey refused to think there was anyone better for her. He knew what she deserved. A man who’d do anything, risk everything, to keep her safe and to make her smile.

He could do that much. But all the rest? The long-haul stuff? To commit not just to one woman, but to a child as well. If he even had a future to look forward to, was he really capable of offering all that? If he had any doubts, the choice was obvious. There was no way in the hottest corner of hell he’d get himself in a position to let Mercy down the way his own father had done to him and Vince. Some men just weren’t built for that shit.

Make no promises, break no promises. That was the simple answer. Until those test results came back, it was the only answer. Once they did, if somehow, through some stroke of good karma he’d never earned, Casey found out he did have a future, then what? Then, he supposed, he’d have a choice to make.

Keep things simple and selfish, or finally man the fuck up.