The detective took the glass back, without breaking their shared gaze. He drank, then nodded his agreement. “Mouth. Then throat.” He put the glass to her lips and tilted it until she got another sip. “That’s the way it should be.”
The heat from the liquid spread from Sunny’s throat, down across her chest. A couple of drops missed her lips entirely and trickled to her chin.
Callahan reached out and swiped the drops with his thumb. “Four grand a bottle,” he said, sticking his thumb in his mouth. “You shouldn’t waste any.”
“Four grand?” Sunny said, even though she’d researched the gift and knew exactly what it cost. “That’s insane.”
“Like I said. The guy who gave you this likes you a lot.”
“I never said it was a guy.”
Callahan finished the Scotch and slid the glass to the oak counter. “I’d bet my salary.”
Sunny tilted her head to the side and smiled. She had Detective Callahan right where she wanted him. Thing was, he probably knew that, which made it difficult to know how far she could push it. Then again, the beagle was still stuck at the Matteri mill, and Sunny was still in danger of being arrested. Her mission was singular and unavoidable. “You want something, don’t you? There’s some other reason you came out here.”
The detective smiled and leaned in close. “I’m just here to enforce the law.” His breath came warm against her cheek, smelling of oranges, chocolate, Scotch.
“Then the person you should really spring a surprise visit on is Janice Matteri. Not me.” Sunny felt like she was swimming inside that expensive bottle of amber liquid. Dizzy. Warm. Sparkling. Desired.
“Maybe I’ll do that.” Callahan pulled back suddenly, and buttoned up his collar. “Maybe I’ll forget about what happened tonight, too. With you and your bolt cutters, over on your neighbor’s property. Which, by the way, are a lot harder to use than you think. You’ll need really strong hands to get the job done. But once you do get the job done, it’s officially breaking and entering. Savvy?”
Sunny swallowed hard. “Savvy.”
“Good.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You should have someone check that out,” Sunny spoke carefully. It looked like he was going to leave, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “My sister’s got great hands.”
“Tell me about it.” Callahan collected his jacket and drew it on. “Your sister spent a total of two minutes, tops, working on my neck the other day. And even though it still bugs me a little, it feels better than it has in months.”
Sunny licked the remainder of the Scotch from her lips. “She could help you as much as you need. I’d make sure of it.” Constance’s voice ran through Sunny’s head: Do you ever think before you leap? No, you don’t. And then when you land in crap, you’re always surprised you got dirty.
Callahan’s movement’s slowed. He got a glint in his eye. “How would your sister feel, about you offering her up like that?”
Sunny shrugged. “She’s used to it.”
Callahan’s glint deepened. Just like the way he’d spotted Sunny’s car in the woods, he saw things most people didn’t. He was on to her. Sunny was certain he was going to leave, when he stopped, turned back and leaned against the bar. “I have a friend.” He lowered his voice. “A really good friend. The kind you have for life. A brother. You know?”
“Of course I know.”
Callahan appeared to consider her words, puckering his lips, then nodding. “My friend could use a pair of hands like that. He’s struggling, even though he doesn’t know how bad he’s struggling.”
Sunny shrugged. “Sure. I’ll get you Cici’s business card. Have him call and—”
Callahan was already shaking his head. “That won’t work. I can’t just hand him a card and tell him to call. He’d never do it. This would have to be done with...finesse.”
Sunny bit down on her lip, which still tasted of chocolate and oranges. “I see. So what you’re saying is, if I scratch your back—or your friend’s back, more specifically—then you’ll scratch mine. You’ll look the other way on tonight, and I’ll help you with your friend. Something like that?”
“Yeah.” Callahan nodded, eyeing her up and down. “Something like that.”
nine
Constance glared into her sister’s innocent-looking eyes. How many times had she been through this? Sunny, plowing ahead with little thought to the endgame, leaping off buildings for shiny prizes. “I told you not to go back to Janice’s yet. I told you to bide your time. Now that beagle is probably stuck in there forever. Does that make you feel better?” Constance gestured in the direction of the Matteri property, which started several miles down this path, deep into the Virginia woods.
Sunny’s eyes welled up. “Don’t say that.” Her chin quivered. “I still think I can help him. You just have to help me first.”
Fezzi gave a woof that sounded suspiciously like an apology. Constance stared down at him, but he only grinned, his tongue lolling to the side as he panted. The air was cold but Constance had walked him at a brisk pace from her place to Sunny’s, down the worn dirt path she used to run on. The old boy could move at a pretty good clip with the hobble-hop-step he’d adapted to long ago on his three legs.
“I can’t believe you’re not in jail. You really should be in jail.”
“I know,” Sunny agreed. “But you have to help me.”
“Now I know why you were so happy to see me this morning.” Constance immediately regretted making her sister almost cry, which only happened if something terrible befell a dog. To Constance, Sunny was still just a five-year-old girl who’d lost her mother, platinum hair sticking to her wet cheeks and blue eyes an ocean of sadness. “Why can’t this guy just set up an appointment?”
“He’s the stubborn sort.” Sunny swiped a knuckle under her nose, which was red from the cold air. “Doesn’t need anybody’s help for anything. You’re good with guys like that. Remember, that’s how you became a massage therapist. To help Daddy.” Sunny shrugged. “So the idea is that you sort of cozy up to him and get him to let you work your magic without him knowing the detective had anything to do with it. I know you can do it. Just like with Daddy. You’d tell him you needed to use him for ‘practice’ and he had no idea what was going on.” Sunny offered a smile—a little bow on the neat little package she’d just wrapped up.
A door creaked on the main cabin. Roger appeared a second later, food bowls in his arms, to start the morning rounds. They all waved at each other.
“But I lived with Dad. How the hell am I supposed to cozy up to some random guy?”
Sunny’s smile deepened. “That’s the best part. Turns out the detective—and his best buddy—go to your gym. You know, the gym you hate that you went back to, anyway?” She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“I shouldn’t have told you I went back.” Constance’s cheeks went warm. “I barely know anyone. And I’m not going back again. I’m done there. I don’t need a gym to get fit. I can do it myself. I will, I swear. Dang it, Sunny.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you always make messes for me to clean up?”
“It’ll be easy.” Sunny clasped Constance’s hands and squeezed. “I promise. Look.” She dug a business card out of her purse. “You don’t have to mingle with people and meet all the gym members. I know how you hate that.” She pressed the card into Constance’s palm. “The guy you’re going to help is the owner. See? Easy. Have you met the owner yet? His name is some old movie star name. It’s...” Sunny reached to take the card back.
“Rhett,” Constance supplied, her heart suddenly thumping hard in her chest, like she and Fezzi had been on a run instead of a walk. For a second, she was back on the trail, lean and mean and full of the cool morning air. There wasn’t anything quite like those morning runs she used to take, the cobwebs shook clean and the blood flowing smooth and her bra
in both alive and relaxed. She was an athletic, confident woman in her early thirties, running up and down these trails at least three times a week. The other three days, she’d run around the neighborhood or at the high school track, depending on her goals. She was a smart woman, who planned for everything. By training on trails, roads and the track, she was ready for any kind of race, both various distances and terrains. She planned for hydration on longer runs, knew to dress like it was fifteen degrees cooler than the actual air temperature, rotated her running shoes, carbo-loaded if necessary, scheduled taper weeks before a big event and never, ever wore new clothes or tried new foods on a race day.
Man, she had it all together.
Until Daddy got sick. Her running tapered off. She got slow, sad and unmotivated. And Josh started running with somebody else.
“Yeah, that’s it. Rhett.” Sunny’s voice was bright with surprise. “So you know him? You’ve met the owner? You’ve... Oh.” She quieted. The color of her eyes deepened. “Ohhh.”
“Stop.” Constance regretted how quickly the word came. “Yes.” Her voice was cool. “I’ve met him.” And, she didn’t add, I’ve already massaged him. His leg, anyway. Which hadn’t been entirely altruistic. Her offer to massage Rhett had been as much for herself as a way to pay him back for his instruction in the gym. She wanted to know what he felt like. She had to know what he felt like.
And just as she’d imagined, based on the first time she’d touched him, Rhett’s energy turned out to be strong, damaged and deeply rooted. It mimicked what the muscles in his thigh had done: in order to guard the destruction, deep inside, the muscles surrounding the wounds were a hard, protective gauntlet. The rigidity of the wall gave him pain, but it also served a purpose. Constance had to massage with caution. She could soften him a little, to ease his considerable discomfort, but to go too deep, too fast, would only do more damage than good. That wall hadn’t been built in a day, and couldn’t come tumbling down in one, either.
“This is the guy who smiled at your unicorn shirt, isn’t it?” Sunny said.
Constance’s gaze flew to Sunny’s. She stopped herself from saying, How did you know that? “I’m not sure I can do this, Sunny. I understand now why the detective is hesitant. Rhett is...complicated.” She closed her eyes and felt his energy again as she worked his leg. His was exactly the sort of energy she’d stopped working with since Daddy died and Josh left. His sort of massage was the polar opposite of the Classic Spa Massage.
“And?”
“And—” Constance didn’t hide her exasperation “—remember when I worked at Walter Reed? With the wounded combat vets?” She waited, letting it sink in. When realization showed on Sunny’s creased brow, she pressed on. “Yeah. Like that.”
“Well.” Sunny shrugged helplessly. “I get it, but...you helped those patients. You made things better. Most of the time. Right?”
Constance opened her eyes with a sigh. “I’d have to be very careful. He’s not someone to mess with, and I wouldn’t want to hurt him. He’s a—” Constance glanced down at Fezzi and the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them “—dangerous breed.”
Sunny’s eyes were no longer teary. Instead, the yin to her yang had taken over and a sly glint had settled over the face she’d inherited straight from Mom. “So...is that a yes?”
Constance could barely believe the word that came out of her mouth. What the hell had come over her?
“Yes.”
ten
Rhett took a few deep breaths and stretched his legs. He was not going to let stress ruin how good his quads still felt. Part of it was due to the weather, he knew. In typical Virginia style, Saturday’s ice storm was nothing but a memory by Monday morning. Temperatures had risen twenty degrees and he needed nothing but a light jacket when he took off for the gym.
But there was no denying the magic Stanzi had worked on him. He had spent Sunday pain-free, even if he hated the quiet diligence of that day, the gym closed and the focus on paperwork, advertising and other things that required sitting still. Not Rhett’s strong point. He hadn’t even gone for his usual run because he’d wanted to milk the effects of Stanzi’s massage for as long as possible.
By Monday morning, he was always antsy, and today was worse. Still, he pushed it all to the back of his mind as he arrived at the gym and drew in the scents of orange cleaner and cold steel. Connor had just finished mopping. He gave Rhett a salute as he dumped the bucket of dirty water out the back bay door.
As soon as Rhett got the morning classes rolling, his insides started to come unstuck, which was the closest he could come to describing what it felt like to live in the normal. The doldrums of everyday life were like flatlining; the intensity of gym life, with its loud music, clanging barbells, jacked heart rates and brisk pace was just enough to loosen the glue and keep his head above water. If he thought about it, he could compare what Stanzi’s massage had done for his leg to what coaching and intense exercise did for his soul.
Rhett was just starting to think he’d been wrong about her, and about how much she’d enjoyed the powerlifting, when, right at ten, she walked through the front door, out of breath. “Just in time,” he murmured to himself. He’d been thinking about slipping her in with an experienced bunch—a close-knit group of cops and firefighters and a few other professions that had shift work and a load of testosterone. Not the place he’d put any newbie. But the perfect place for Stanzi.
“Stanzi.” Rhett watched her strip off her coat, a much lighter version of what she’d been wearing on Saturday. “I’m glad you’re not late. That would piss me off.”
She tilted up her chin to fix her gaze into his. “Late?” she said. “How’d you even know I was coming?”
Rhett shrugged. “I just knew.”
Her eyes were fearless. “How’s your leg?”
Rhett’s hand went instinctively to his right thigh. “Not horrible. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rhett almost smiled, but held it in. Instead, he checked out her outfit, just in case unicorns were back on the menu. Today, she sported a pair of black leggings and a raggedy green T-shirt that read The Hick from French Lick.
That did make him smile. More of Dad’s old wardrobe, maybe? “Go warm up, Larry Bird,” Rhett ordered. “James, Doug, Duke and Benita will get you going.” He nodded to the cop, firefighter, Secret Service agent, and mother of three small children, respectively, one tall and lanky, the other short and stocky, Duke both tall and stocky and Benita small but all muscle, and strong as an ox. “This is Stanzi. Warm her up.”
She cast him one flash of helplessness before she sucked that weakness right back in, then turned up her chin and joined the others.
Rhett watched from a short distance, curious how his experiment would hold up. Within minutes, Stanzi was doing the stretches and drills with ease. Her no-bullshit personality fit in well with the seasoned group, and they were more than happy to have a woman with a determined spirit join their circle. Especially when they thought she was a basketball fan, and they turned out to be right. Rhett could hear her rattling off some Celtics stats with Duke as they lunged across the floor.
“What’s this about?” Zoe came up beside him and flashed a curious grin. She watched Stanzi grimace through her air squats, obviously still sore from Saturday.
“She’s new.” Rhett felt stupid, stating the obvious. “I’m trying something out.”
“What? You don’t trust me with her?” Zoe elbowed him in the ribs. “You just put a newbie into your strongest group.”
“I want to see who she is.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Stanzi was most certainly a newbie, especially today. They were going to focus on upper body and he’d bet his month’s salary she wouldn’t be able to bench-press much more than the barbell. But there was something seasoned about her, too. He sensed a fighter beneath all those baggy clot
hes. “So I threw her in a snake pit.”
Zoe watched a little while. James had Stanzi doing overhead squats with the PVC, against the rig. Stanzi lowered herself methodically, the struggle to keep the PVC against the rig and keep her weight in her heels a challenge. “Cute,” Zoe said. “Certainly has potential. I worked with her Friday. Not a quitter. I like that.”
“Me, too.”
Zoe elbowed him in the ribs. “What’re you in such a good mood about?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve been supernice to everyone all morning. You didn’t even make the latecomers do burpees.”
“Eh.” Rhett tried to think quickly of an excuse. “Guess I slept good.”
It wasn’t a lie.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m going to throw her in your eleven o’clock for some cardio,” Rhett said. “My focus with her will be strength but I want her to get her conditioning back, too. Slowly.”
Zoe clucked her tongue. “Whatever you say, boss.”
For the next hour, the crew did weight-lifting work. Stanzi’s workout was a little different. Rhett would keep her from the more complicated Olympic lifts for now.
“We’re going to widen our grip for this.” Rhett shifted her hands farther down the barbell. “This is a snatch grip. Eventually, when you snatch, this is where you’ll finish, once the bar is overhead.”
Stanzi nodded, without flinching, determined if confused.
“Dip and drive, just like I showed you,” Rhett said. “The dip is just a break of the knees. The drive is powerful. You’re using your hips to help get the bar overhead. When I say drive, I want you to fire those glutes. Then punch it overhead.”
Stanzi struggled at first, to keep the flow from dip into drive smooth. At first she’d pause, the power of her hips lost, and would finish by muscling the bar overhead. She racked the barbell and watched the others, her eyes sharp like a hawk’s. When she got back to the bar, her next set of reps was smoother. She repeated that through all twelve sets, every minute on the minute, sweat beading her brow, which was creased in concentration. By the end, the bar was almost flying overhead.
Rescue You Page 9
