Finding Paradise

by Barbara Dunlop

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said gently.

  She chewed while thinking. “How about this: if I look them in the eyes, I can walk away and never feel guilty.”

  That line of reasoning made sense to Cobra. He helped himself to a jalapeño popper. “Okay. I’ll stick around.” He ate it whole.

  “You can’t,” Marnie said with a shake of her head. “You have planes to fix.”

  “The planes can wait. You’re not walking into a state prison by yourself.”

  She frowned. “It’s perfectly safe. And what are you saying? That I’m some sort of delicate little damsel in distress?”

  “I’m saying that you’re beautiful, and that prison is full of criminals and, yes, you’re a delicate little damsel compared to them and to me.”

  “So, you’re going to protect me, big bad snake-man?”

  “Snake-man?” The name struck him as funny.

  “Don’t you laugh at me.”

  “I’m not.” He struggled to control his expression. “I wasn’t planning to flash my tattoo for intimidation.”

  “What were you planning to do?”

  “I don’t know. Just be there with you, I guess.”

  “People visit prison all the time. There are guards in there, you know. I believe they’re armed.”

  “There might be guards but shit still happens.” Plus, he didn’t trust her family for one second.

  She opened her mouth, clearly ready to argue some more.

  “Do you like me, Marnie? I mean, I know it’s complicated and everything, but you like me, don’t you?”

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “I think you meant to say: yes, of course, I do, absolutely.”

  This time, she was the one struggling not to smile.

  “Good,” he said, satisfied he’d made his point. “Then think about me for a second.”

  “How is this about you?”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it would be for me to sit out here, with you in there—waiting and wondering what was going on?” He’d go nuts wondering what was happening.

  She rocked back in her chair, looking incredulous now. “I’m twenty-seven years old. I’ll be twenty-eight soon. I’ve survived all that time without your protection. I think I’ll be fine for this too.”

  He went for another jalapeño popper, nodding his acceptance of her argument as he chewed and swallowed. Inside his head, he was regrouping. “Ever been inside a state prison?”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Okay, it was a military prison.”

  She sat up straight, her eyes going round. “You were arrested?”

  “No. One of our pilots was arrested. He was mouthing off to a superior. Didn’t end well.”

  “That’s it?”

  “He got five days.”

  “That’s the sum-total of your prison expertise?”

  “Would you rather I was convicted?”

  “No. No, of course not.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He chose a spicy egg roll this time. “So, what’s the harm? Of me coming along?”

  She bought herself some time by dipping a chip in the guacamole. It was clear she was the one regrouping this time.

  “Is it just your ego?” He tried to work his way through her likely objection. “You don’t want to look weak?”

  “It’s them,” she said softly, sounding vulnerably honest.

  She redipped the chip before biting down on it. Some crumbs dropped to the table, and she brushed them on her little plate.

  He wasn’t sure what she meant, so he waited.

  She swallowed and set down the rest of the chip. “They embarrass me.”

  He gave a chopped laugh of surprise. “Well, that’s a switch.”

  She looked confused. “A switch from what?”

  “I’m the one who embarrasses my family.”

  She looked horrified. “You are not.”

  “They expected me to get a graduate degree. And they hate that I work with my hands.”

  “There’s something wrong with your family.”

  “They’re uptight. And so are their friends.” He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Marnie at the annual club picnic. For some reason, he had a very specific image of her in a mint-green dress with flat lace, breezy sleeves and buttons down the front. “They’d like you a lot.” He had no idea where it had come from.

  “I’m not sure how to take that,” she said.

  “It’s a compliment. I know I can handle your family, Marnie, from one black sheep to the others.”

  “There’s no comparison.”

  He gave a shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Fine,” she said in an exasperated tone that told him it was a big concession. “Sure, okay, yes, you can come.”

  “I love it when you give me four yeses.”

  * * *

  * * *

  It was hard to say which struck Marnie more, that her father looked smaller than she remembered or that Ethan looked bigger. She came to her feet as the three men walked into the prison visiting room. Cobra stood beside her at the shiny metal table with six attached seats.

  “Well, well, well,” her father opened, glancing from Marnie to Cobra then back again.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  “You decided to grace us with your presence.”

  She felt Cobra stiffen beside her.

  Victor’s hair was gray and thinning, and his skin looked loose on his frame, but his eyes were the same penetrating hazel, brown with what looked like a green underlay. He was fifty-eight now, but he looked much older.

  She supposed being stuck inside most of the day didn’t help.

  “Hi, Marnie,” Ethan said. He looked like he’d grown an inch or two since she’d last seen him. His shoulders were broader, and his arms had filled out. He’d obviously been using whatever fitness facilities they had in the prison.

  She gave her brother a nod and briefly met her uncle Stuart’s pale gaze. He looked a lot like her father, aging and unhappy. She’d never had much to do with him growing up. He gave off a vibe that said he didn’t much like kids.

  Cobra touched the back of her chair, nodding for her to sit down.

  She did.

  “And who’s this?” her father asked, looking pointedly at Cobra as everyone took their seats.

  “A friend. Conrad, this is Victor Anton.”

  “Marnie’s father,” Victor said. Neither man offered to shake hands.

  “They told me the hearing was at eleven,” she opened, wanting to take control of the conversation.

  Her dad leaned slightly forward. “You think you can fit us in?”

  “Dad,” Ethan said quietly.

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Victor waved a wrinkled hand. “We all know how busy our Marnie is. Took me nearly a week to get her on the phone. And even then she wouldn’t commit one way or the other.”

  Cobra shifted in his seat.

  “But here she is,” her father continued. “Here to save the day. Looking for our gratitude, are you?”

  Marnie didn’t expect gratitude. She knew her father hated for her to be in a position of power. She didn’t want power. She just wanted to get this over and done with.

  “I started writing a statement. They said I’d have ten minutes.” So far, she didn’t have enough to fill even five minutes.

  “What does it say?” her father asked.

  “Not much, so far.”

  Her father made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat.

  Ethan stepped in. “Dad, she’s trying to help.”

  “She’s enjoying this.”

  “I’m not,” Marnie cut in, struggling to keep
her voice even.

  “Will you vouch for all of us?” her uncle Stuart asked.

  She inhaled deeply. “I plan to be honest.”

  “There it is,” Victor said, waving his hand with a flourish. “She’s not here to help us at all.”

  “I am,” Marnie said, gripping her hands in her lap.

  “Why?” Victor demanded.

  “Because you asked,” she snapped.

  He locked gazes with her, searching her expression. “What’s your angle?”

  She was tired of being hit with his criticism. She wanted nothing more than to get this over and done with, so she went with blunt honesty. “Getting you out of my life for good.”

  His jaw went hard. “You’ve always been an ungrateful little—”

  “That’s it.” Cobra brought the flat of his hand down on the table, and the sound echoed. “You”—he pointed to Stuart—“will take whatever you get. And you”—he turned to Ethan—“I can’t peg you yet, but you should thank your lucky stars Marnie is who she is. And, you”—it was Victor’s turn—“better change your attitude before tomorrow, or you’re going to be stuck inside these walls until every second of your sentence is served. None of you deserve Marnie’s help, but for some reason she’s still willing to give it. She’ll speak tomorrow, say whatever it is she wants to say, and that’s the end of it. She’s done. With all of you.”

  Her father opened his mouth, face red and blotchy.

  Marnie reflexively cringed in anticipation of the outburst.

  “Are you kidding me?” Cobra demanded in a dark tone before Victor could say anything.

  “You have no business—”

  “Dad,” Ethan interrupted.

  “Stop!” Marnie shouted to them all. Her skin crawled with anxiety like it had so many times in the past.

  A stunned silence followed her demand.

  “I’m here to . . .” She paused and closed her eyes for a second, awash with regret at leaving Alaska for this. The peace of mind wasn’t going to be worth it. She stood, and Cobra quickly followed suit. “Tomorrow.” With the final word, she turned and started for the door.

  Cobra came up beside her in the hallway. “Sorry.”

  “For what?” She was filled with anger at her father, not at Cobra.

  “I promised myself I’d keep quiet.”

  She coughed out a slightly hysterical laugh. “None of that was your fault.”

  They stopped at a barred gate while a guard checked their visitor badges.

  “Are they always like that?” Cobra asked.

  “It’s been years. But, yeah, it’s all coming back to me now.”

  “He treated you like that when you were a little girl?” Cobra looked like he was about to march back into the visiting room and confront her father.

  “I didn’t challenge him when I was a little girl. And it was easier when my mom was alive.” Her mother had always been careful to keep things smooth and calm when her father was around. Marnie realized how much work that must have been for her.

  The guard let them through the gate, and they checked out at the front desk.

  “Your father’s never . . .” Cobra’s voice was tight as they walked down the sidewalk to his rental car.

  She looked up.

  Cobra lifted his brow. “He’s never completely lost his temper, right?”

  “You mean, hit me?”

  Cobra nodded stiffly.

  “No.”

  Cobra blew out a breath.

  “You waited until we were outside to ask that, didn’t you?” She guessed he hadn’t trusted himself in case her answer was yes.

  “I did.”

  “My father demanded. He ordered. He yelled. I saw him cuff Ethan once when Ethan accidentally shot off a rifle. But I think that was more shock than uncontrolled anger.”

  “I can’t believe you came back to help them.”

  “I’m glad I did.”

  Cobra glanced over his shoulder. “Seriously? After that performance?”

  “This is the end of it. And I’m glad to know they’ll be out of my life. I know it didn’t look like much, but that’s the first time I’ve ever stood up to him.”

  Cobra wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You were terrific.”

  “You were intimidating.”

  He hit the fob to unlock the car doors. “I couldn’t believe their attitudes. I couldn’t believe they’d be so stupid. You were there to help them.”

  “My dad thought I was there to rub their noses in it.”

  “So what? Even if you were. They need you way more than you need them.”

  The way he said it reinforced her new feeling of confidence.

  She scooted ahead of him and opened her car door.

  “Hey,” he called out.

  She turned back to him, looking over the open door with a grin. “I am a strong and capable woman.”

  “Too capable to let me be a gentleman?”

  “Yes.”

  He came up close. “That was only one yes. That means you’re not sure.”

  “I’m not following your logic.” The door was already open, so it was a moot point.

  He brushed a fingertip across her nose. “Logic says I’m going to keep being a gentleman.”

  She pouted her lips and purposely softened her gaze. “Not all the time, I hope.”

  A glow came into his eyes. “No.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Not all the time.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Cobra was watching the sun come up through the hotel room window when Marnie shifted in his arms.

  “I don’t want this day to start,” she said, her voice sounding like she’d been awake for a while.

  He gathered her closer, glancing at the bedside clock and seeing it was barely past seven. “We’ve still got time.”

  “I keep rehearsing it in my mind.”

  “You don’t need to rehearse the truth.”

  “Clearly, you’ve never made an opening argument in court.”

  “That is true.” He rarely thought about his own conversations before they happened.

  “They’ll want to know about character.”

  Cobra hoped they did. And he hoped her statement kept Victor in prison. The man didn’t deserve parole. “You can’t change who they are.”

  She sat up, forcing a gust of cool air under the covers. “I didn’t come here to deliberately hurt them.”

  He sat up beside her, debating whether to put on a pot of coffee or reach for the phone and call room service. The little coffee maker in the corner would be faster.

  He rose from the bed and pulled on his boxers, looking back over his shoulder as he headed for the coffee maker. “Do you have any good memories of growing up?”

  She reached for a robe and put her arms in the sleeves, pulling her hair from the collar and tucking it behind her ears. “The day I got a full scholarship to KU. But my dad tried to talk me out of going.”

  “Your father tried to talk you out of going to college?” Cobra couldn’t wrap his mind around a parent doing that. His parents had offered every enticement under the sun to enroll.

  “He didn’t trust academia. Said it was full of socialists and I wouldn’t learn anything useful for the real world.”

  “He didn’t think law school was useful?” Cobra dropped a pod into the coffee maker and began filling the carafe in the little sink.

  “It wasn’t law school then. I was accepted into the liberal arts program.”

  “Then I can see his point.”

  A pillow hit him in the back of the head, making him spill the cold water across his arm.

  “I retract my statement,” he said through a laugh, reaching for a paper napkin to dry himself.

  “Too late. You
revealed your bias.”

  “Are you sure you want to stay mad? I’m brewing . . .” He checked the package. “Colombian Premium Roast.”

  “Any of that hazelnut creamer left?”

  He gave a little shudder. “You are definitely not a purist.”

  “Yeah?” She started across the floor, tightening the robe around her waist. “Any more insults you want to toss my way, Snake-Man?” She softened her words by stretching up and kissing his tattoo.

  “My parents would have burned sage bundles or danced naked under the full moon to get me into college.” He felt her laughter where she pressed against his back as he poured the water into the coffee machine.

  “I didn’t know you were raised by Pagans,” she said.

  “Not Pagans, just desperate. They were convinced I was destroying my future.”

  “By joining the military?”

  The coffee maker gurgled and hissed, filling the air with a welcome aroma.

  “By pursuing mechanics instead of finance or medicine or law.”

  “What did Barrick study?”

  “He has an MBA, just like—” Cobra stopped himself, not sure why his mind was going in that direction.

  “Just like who?” Marnie asked, taking two clean white coffee cups from a shelf and placing them on the counter. They were tiny little things that wouldn’t hold enough caffeine to start half his brain.

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you mean, nothing?”

  “It was nobody important.”

  She peeled the seal from a little cup of hazelnut creamer and poured it into one of the cups. “Ahh, a girl.”

  “Not a girl.” He didn’t know why he was hesitating, since it didn’t matter anymore. It was water under a very long-ago bridge. “It was some guy. My nemesis back then, or so I thought. He was a guy who stole a girl . . . from me.”

  Marnie looked intrigued now. “Do tell.”

  “His name was Charles, Charles Hudson-Hyde. Our parents run in the same circle, and he was everything my parents would have wanted in a son, and more.”

  “Such a regal name. Was he British royalty?”

  “Seattle royalty. He and his pals were the A-listers at Bern Academy.”

  “Wait. You went to a school called Bern Academy?”

  “You can understand why I was such a disappointment to my parents.” He filled her cup first.