Affliction

by Marilee Brothers

  The predatory Candace Talbot is also at the bar where Nick is serving up free drinks. Candy looks hot in tight faded jeans, hand-tooled cowboy boots and a black V-neck, cleavage-revealing tee that says: Saddle up. Shut up. Hold on Tight. Judging from her outfit, I assume her horse is patiently waiting in the parking lot. Trust me, I’m keeping an eye on Candy.

  Kendra, Craig and family are also present, enjoying chicken nuggets and raw baby carrots dipped in ranch dressing. I’m a big supporter of Kendra’s theory: Greasy foods plus raw vegetables equal zero harm.

  Paco and Aida have a booth of their own, large enough to accommodate their expanding bellies. Destiny is in her car seat on top of the table. She has a tight grip on Paco’s pointer finger and is chomping down on it like it’s filet mignon. Aida tells me she’s teething again. Paco is gazing at Aida like a lovesick calf.

  Mick pulled some strings to allow Kendra temporary custody of Destiny until all the details can be worked out. She says she won’t rest until Destiny is legally a member of her family. Aida is still under the radar. Mick obviously knows she’s here, but he’s taking the high road and pretending she’s invisible. If a threat to her legal status arises, I’m sure Paco will be on bended knee, proposing marriage.

  Mick grudgingly filled me in on some of the details. While the Rockwells and friends were taken into custody in 3 Peaks, another team hit the prostitution ring in Portland. Paco was correct. The money flowing in from prostitution was laundered through the self-service car wash and coin-operated Laundromat. After checking Rockwell’s records, the bean counters determined he was in the process of setting up an offshore account to hide some of the ill-gotten gains.

  When I asked Mick about the fate of the women forced into prostitution, he became close-lipped and replied, “Yet to be determined.” Nagging proved fruitless.

  However, he did tell me Larissa’s death was an accident, due to placental abruption. She died shortly after the baby was born. Eddie and Myron were the cleanup guys. They rented a room at the Rest Inn, used a fake credit card and dumped poor Larissa there. After I yelled at Mick for ten long minutes, he agreed to cut loose some of Rockwell’s impounded money to arrange a decent burial for her.

  Still, I’m not fully satisfied with the results of Homeland Security’s investigation. They’re crowing about their victory, obsessed with the big picture. But, what about Dani? She died to protect her daughter. I’m certain Eddie had a hand (or fist) in her death. Mick promises me they will question him, but with nothing remaining but Dani’s ashes, Eddie’s complicity in her death will be impossible to prove unless he confesses. I know that won’t happen. Mentally, I mark it down as Unfinished Business.

  Billy wanders over and slides in next to me, carefully placing an arm around my shoulders. I lift my face to his. After a quick glance at Sandra, he gives me a chaste peck on the lips.

  My mother snickers. “Bet you do better than that when I’m not around.”

  Billy grins. “Don’t want to get her all riled up until she’s back in fighting shape.”

  I fake a punch at his chin. “I’m tougher than you think.”

  Billy narrows his eyes and pats my injured arm. “You’re made of flesh, blood and bone like the rest of us. You scared the hell out of me the other night. When I got to the apartment and saw the busted door, I was sure that was the end of you.”

  When he couldn’t find me, he figured the action was either at the clinic or the Rockwells. He arrived in time to see me leave the Rockwell’s house holding Destiny, and was, of course, pissed off he’d missed all the action.

  “What is it with your daughter?” he asks Sandra. “Does she have to do everything on her own? Damn, but she hates to ask for help.”

  “That’s the way I raised her.”

  Sandra glances over her shoulder at Steve sitting at the bar. “It was just the three of us. Hope, Honor and me. We had to be tough. Then, we lost Hope. Hope the child, and hope in the literal sense. That’s when Melanie decided she didn’t deserve the name Honor. It was a rough time for us.”

  She pauses and swipes at her eyes. “When you lose one child and see the other one in terrible emotional pain, there is only one option. Do whatever it takes to fix her. If that means she turns out bull-headed and unwilling to ask for help, so be it.”

  Billy drops his gaze and murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Abel reaches across the table and takes my hand. “If anyone deserves the name Honor, it’s you, and that’s what I intend to call you from now on.”

  I’ve never liked being the center of attention. Time to change the subject. “Hey, Sandra, how did it go with Steve? Did you two duke it out?”

  The last two days have been a blur of doctor appointments, debriefing by law enforcement officials, long hours of restorative sleep and no alone time with my mother.

  She says, “After you told me about his little problem…”

  Little problem? “You mean the fact that he’s gay?”

  She nods. “That and the whole family expectation thing. I guess I’ve become more forgiving as I’ve grown older.” She takes Abel’s hand. “Plus, I have a wonderful husband. Who could ask for a better man?”

  Billy smooches the top of my head and rises. “I think I’ll have a word with that guy in Paco’s—um, group. You know the one who had the same problem as me.”

  I squeeze his hand. “Okay.”

  “One more week and I’ll be a free man,” he says and heads for the Corral.

  I’m not sure what happened, but Billy’s attitude toward PTSD counseling has undergone a profound adjustment. His boiling anger and resentment have subsided into a gentle simmer of acceptance, seasoned with an occasional dash of the heebie-jeebies. The fire in his soul still burns, but the smoke has cleared and the flames are tinged with a clean blue-violet glow. His future looks bright.

  Will Honor Melanie Sullivan be part of that future? My heart wishes it were so. Though I try to suppress them, random thoughts bombard my mind. Can people like me have normal relationships? If Billy lies to me—and I’m discovering everybody lies—will it destroy my ability to trust him? Isn’t trust the basic foundation for a healthy relationship? I could stop reading souls, but why should I? Until recently, I’ve spent most of my life looking down. Now, it’s time to look up—and forward.

  The troublesome thoughts circle through my brain on an endless loop. Since I have no answers, I push them away.

  After Billy leaves, Mick stops at our table. He greets Sandra and Abel, plants both hands on the table and turns his probing gaze to me. “I need to speak to you. Alone.”

  Sandra’s eyes brighten with curiosity. “We were just leaving.”

  She blows me a kiss. “We’ll talk later.”

  Translation: I want to know all the details.

  After their departure, Mick slides in next to me. I scoot over to give him room. He takes the additional space like he owns it. I feel heat radiating from his body, but refuse to give him another inch. He’s either hitting on me or he’s had too much wodka.

  I’m squirming with discomfort. I point across the table. “You might want to sit over there.”

  He looks at me and winks. “Too close for comfort?”

  “For your information, I have a boyfriend.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Now, he’s pissing me off. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t leave you sitting here all alone. Just saying.”

  I stiffen in outrage. “I think that qualifies as none of your damn business. Furthermore, I wasn’t sitting here all alone. I was with my parents.”

  I jab him in the ribs with my uninjured elbow. Hard. “Move.”

  He chuckles and takes a seat on the opposite bench. “We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Your dad did a hell of a job the other night.”

  Like an afterthought, he points at me. “You too, of course.”

  “Gee, thanks,�
�� I mutter. You chauvinistic pig.

  “Here’s the deal,” he continues. “I’m not the only one whose cover was blown the other night.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  Mick lowers his voice. “It’s the soul-reading thing. I’m talking about the blabathon when you thought you were about to die?”

  “Blabathon?” I huff. “I was trying to save my life. I believe I presented a well-drafted argument designed to…”

  Mick raises a hand to stop me. “Whatever. My point is, during your blabathon, you told me only a few people know about your ability to read souls. After the Rockwell bust, a whole lot of people know.”

  “Yeah, Homeland Security people. I assumed they could keep secrets.”

  Mick rises and steps out of the booth. “You and your father are unique. Your ability to figure out if someone is lying is a marketable skill. The two of you should open a consulting business. Hell, D.H.S. would hire you. Think of the possibilities in law enforcement alone. Not to mention other fields like employment agencies and jury selection.”

  I’m trying to absorb what he’s saying, but old habits don’t die easy. My instinct for secrecy and self-preservation leap to the surface and I blurt, “That would mean everyone would know.”

  Mick stares at me for a long moment. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I had you pegged as a girl who doesn’t give a shit about what other people think.”

  I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. Mick slides out of the booth. “Talk to your dad. Think about what I said.”

  After Mick heads back to his buddies, Billy returns. He slides in next to me. “I saw that D.H.S. guy here. You okay?”

  I nod. “Just surprised, that’s all. He thinks Steve and I should start a consulting business.”

  “Oh, really.” His voice gives nothing away.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

  He shrugs. “Do you?”

  “The idea scares me a little.”

  He smiles. “I totally get that. You don’t have to decide right now. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

  Tears spring into my eyes. This is Billy being nice. I like it.

  I swipe at my eyes. “I never got a chance to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For not including you in the grand finale—the whole saving baby Destiny thing. I know you would have been a big help.”

  He shrugs. “Let’s not forget who set it in motion. If you hadn’t been so damn nosy and stubborn, there might have been a different ending.” He glances at his watch. “Gotta go. Counseling session.” He rises. “Later?”

  Before he leaves, I reach out and take his hand. “For sure, later. Maybe at your place?”

  He reaches down and pulls me in for one last hug. “Yeah. I’d say it’s about time.”

  A word about the author…

  Marilee Brothers is a former teacher, coach, counselor, and the author of nine books so far. Marilee and her husband are the parents of three grown sons and live in central Washington State. After writing six young adult books, Marilee is once again writing romantic suspense for the adult market. She loves hearing from people who have read her books. You will find those available elsewhere listed on her website.

  Marilee’s Book Blather blog is where she features aspiring and published authors as well as some tidbits of her own.

  Feel free to contact her at any of the following:

  http://www.marileebrothers.com

  www.facebook.com/marilee.author

  Twitter @MarileeB.

  http://bookblatherblog.blogspot.com

  Thank you for purchasing

  this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.