Love You Madly

by Ashlee Mallory

  Once again, her victory was short-lived.

  …

  Travis kicked his legs in front of him and unwrapped his sandwich. The shock of feeling her soft warmth had stunned him, but he thought he covered it well.

  Meredith wiggled on the blanket next to him. He was certain she was going to make some comment about the rock she was undoubtedly sitting on, but miraculously she stayed silent, taking a baby bite of her sandwich.

  “Allie and I spent this morning trying to figure out who that guy Bryce was talking about, who left midyear,” Claire said to Travis. “We got nothing. Jeremy—the principal—would have a better idea, but he and his wife have been in Italy the past couple of weeks. I sent him an email last night but haven’t heard back yet. Should be at the gala tomorrow night, though.”

  “Have you two found out anything more?” Allie asked. “Maybe we can offer a new perspective.”

  Meredith tensed next to him. “Nothing yet,” Travis drawled. “We’re looking at a string of other missing girls from the area. Seeing if there’s any connection.” When he didn’t add any further details, such as the possibly that Darcy was possibly part of a human trafficking enterprise that aimed to make her nothing more than a sex slave, Meredith relaxed again.

  As a distraction from the new unease that had settled on them, Claire began a monologue about a particularly terrible tee-off resulting in some damage to a golf cart that soon had everyone laughing.

  Save for Meredith. If anything, she looked even more uncomfortable, as if not sure how to react to the teasing banter.

  Probably not helped by the fact that his sister was obviously Team Allie and had kept the conversation on Allie and her gallant hero, Sam Fratto, with a few derisive glances thrown Meredith’s way. He’d almost jumped in at one point to defend her and then checked himself. She’d probably have killed him for his interference anyhow. Think it’d make her appear weak.

  Allie, however, in that unassuming way of hers, was Team No One as she smiled in embarrassment at Claire’s attention, while Rick, from the ingratiating smiles he was giving all the women, was clearly any team that involved a pretty woman. And Grandma Molly? She wasn’t afraid to let everyone know she was completely Team Travis.

  He was sure she had been checking out his package.

  The loud ring from his cell phone stopped the banter, and he pulled the phone from his back pocket. Without looking at Meredith, who he sensed was watching him, he got up and stepped away, trying to hear the voice on the other end.

  After a couple of minutes, he returned to the group, who weren’t attempting to disguise the fact they’d been trying to hear the conversation. Meredith looked almost stricken.

  “Thanks for the lunch, ladies. But we should probably get going.”

  Meredith stood and brushed crumbs from her dress.

  His sister and Allie jumped to their feet to say good-bye, Rick right behind them. Molly remained seated with that same salacious grin on her face.

  “Nice to meet you, Molly.”

  “You too.” She glanced over at Meredith and then back to him. “I was gonna see if maybe you’d like to meet Allie’s sister. She’s a doll and could really take having a real man with some testosterone between her legs—going through a pretty heartbreaking divorce, you see. But maybe you have a friend instead, eh?”

  “Travis,” Allie interrupted almost desperately, her face reddening and not because of the broiling sun, “I hope we get a chance to see you again. And Mer? Let me know if there’s anything more I can do to help.”

  “Okay, little brother,” Claire said and stood on tiptoe to place a kiss on his bristly cheek. “Be careful.”

  With a last wave, they started across the grass. “Who was it? What’s going on?” Meredith asked when they were out of everyone’s earshot.

  “It was Bryce. Said he received a text. There’s a party tonight.”

  It was a lucky break, something they needed right now as the clock was ticking with no new information from Meems or the police. He just hoped it didn’t get her hopes up too high. It could be a dead end.

  “Bryce said he’ll meet us there around eleven.” Which would give him a few more hours to look through the files Meems had put together, even if he doubted he’d see anything that she hadn’t.

  He hit the unlock key on the car, and the alarm chirped. He’d be lying if the thought of the car’s cool air and soft leather bucket seats didn’t offer some relief after suffering the past few hours on the lumpy hard seats of his sister’s car.

  “So where is it at?” she asked as she reached the passenger door.

  “It’s a few blocks southeast of the warehouse. Another crappy area of town.”

  They both stared at the shiny black Range Rover, almost feeling the cool air blowing relief on them.

  “Mer,” he started, his voice heavy with regret.

  She sighed heavily. “I know. Guess you better go get the keys.”

  Looked like Bonnie might be their ride a little bit longer.

  Chapter Nine

  Travis navigated through the streets, getting used to the way the old machine handled. “My sister is pretty enamored with that guy Rick. You seem to know him. What do you think about my future brother-in-law?”

  She shrugged. “He’s not my type. But he makes Claire happy.”

  “That’s not exactly answering my question.”

  “You don’t really think I’m going to walk into this one, do you? I tell you what an utter creep I think the guy is, and you’re going to accuse me of being a judgmental bitch.”

  Ordinarily…maybe. But she’d answered enough for him to know. “You think he’s a creep?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “You going to explain?” he asked and slowed down as the light changed red ahead of them.

  “Not much to say. We’ve met on a few occasions, at a couple of school events. He’s always very…helpful. And he knows exactly what to say. Like a …soothsayer? Is that the right word? People seem to eat up his every word. Probably what makes him such a good salesman. But when he looks at me?” She shivered dramatically. “Ick. I gather you weren’t particularly impressed with the guy?”

  The light changed, and he stepped on the gas. “Not even close. I was going to have Meems dig into him after I get this case wrapped up. But after meeting him, I don’t want to wait. I’ll have Jace start looking now.”

  “Far be it for me to try and tell you how to operate, but what do you really hope to find that will convince Claire this guy isn’t any good? If Claire hasn’t seen him for what he is yet, then it’s because she doesn’t want to. And you showing up with a folder on him is only going to piss her off.”

  She was right. Claire hated being told what to do by anyone, valuing her independence above all things. But there were some things that were worth the anger and hellfire she’d rain down on him. “You might be right, but if Rick isn’t on the up-and-up and poses any kind of threat to my sister, I have a duty to find out. I owe her that.”

  “You owe her that? Why is this on you? Claire’s a grown woman. A quite intelligent woman, from all accounts. Save for where Rick is concerned.”

  He didn’t respond at first. Just kept driving, as images of his and Claire’s life passed through his mind. Memories of the two of them huddled in the small crawl space out in the garage behind their dad’s workbench. It was the only place they felt safe, knew he couldn’t reach them. Hearing the yelling, the shattering of glass, the inevitable slap and sobbing as their mother begged him to stop from the house.

  Those were the lucky nights. The nights when they knew the signs and had the wherewithal to get into their hiding space. A space that would often protect them until the morning light.

  But on the nights when they hadn’t seen the signs? When they were torn from their sleep by an arm yanking them out of bed, a belt to the back because of some slight they never could anticipate, such as when Travis had left his Legos on the floor and his father had stepped on the
m? Those were the nights they hadn’t been so lucky.

  “Claire had a rough life. We both did,” Travis started gruffly. “Our dad…he was a real shithead. He liked to hit people. My mom was his first choice in punching bags. But Claire and I couldn’t always escape. You know how alcohol sometimes makes a person mean?” He shook his head. “Not our dad. He was his meanest when he wasn’t drinking. I did what I could, trying to keep his attention off Claire, but she was just as determined to keep it on her. And it wasn’t always physical. He was really good at saying the right words to make you feel like utter shit.”

  A warm hand landed on his arm. He glanced at Meredith, who was staring at him, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

  Hell, was he going to make the queen bee cry? This had to be bad.

  “My mother would usually come and lie with us after on those nights, singing, trying to stop the tears, the pain. Always swearing that this was the last time. That she’d pack everything up and take us away if he didn’t leave. And by the morning, he always was really sorry when, in the light of day, the bruises and welts were glaring back at him. And he’d cry and say how sorry he was. How it was the last time. That he could change. He’d be a better person.”

  He paused, thinking about how hopeful he and Claire always were that this was the moment when his mother would stand up to the man, that she’d keep to her promise to kick him out or take them somewhere safe. But…she hadn’t.

  “And she always believed him. Always wanted to believe the best, that he could change, just like he promised. Be a different man. But I knew better. And a month would pass, maybe two, of peace and quiet and not walking on eggshells. Until a particularly bad day would send him over the edge again. People, like leopards, don’t change their spots just by willing it.

  “Then one night, he got into some argument at the bar, and when he left, four guys jumped him. Beat him pretty good. Not enough to kill him, though. No. Mom had to make that decision. To pull him off life support. That just about killed her, too. Don’t know how or why, but she always loved him. Always forgave him. I think when the cancer took her a few years later, she was relieved. She just wanted to be with him. Still.”

  “Good to hear that there really is such thing as karma,” Meredith said softly. “For your dad, I mean.”

  The two-story white colonial came into view, and he didn’t say anything more, just pulled into the driveway. “My point here wasn’t to make you feel sorry for me. I made my peace with this shit a long time ago. But Claire? Hell, I don’t know how it affected her. We never talk about it. And I can’t help but wonder if our screwed-up childhood has impacted her more than she realizes. Made her blind where men are concerned. She assured me the other night that Rick would never hurt her. Not physically. And maybe that’s her litmus for a man—hell, I don’t know. But I’m going to make sure that there’s nothing that he’s hiding. Nothing that will hurt her.”

  They were quiet for a minute, the radio playing something that he couldn’t really hear.

  “You’re a good man, Travis,” Meredith said softly. Before he could give any kind of response or reflect on what she’d said, she was scooping up Meems’s files and opening the car door. “I’ll get these inside. See you in a minute.”

  When she reached her front door, she shot him a quick glance over her shoulder before unlocking it and heading inside.

  Her unexpected empathy, the way her dark eyes swam with emotion and her hand rested on his arm to try and comfort him, was playing havoc with everything he thought he knew about this woman. He stared at the house another moment, wondering how she could continue to completely surprise him. Make him almost believe people could change.

  He shook his head, needing to get it together.

  He picked up his cell and dialed. “Jace? Yeah. I’m going to need you to do a background check. A full background check.”

  …

  The sun had dropped two hours ago, but the temperature outside was still holding in the upper eighties as they drove to the address Bryce had texted them. Meredith had given up on the car’s air-conditioning and rolled her window down, letting the air blow against her face, whipping her hair around her head, almost taking her breath away.

  Normally she’d be worried about the effect on her smooth blowout but for tonight’s style, she figured it couldn’t hurt. She’d been looking for tousled and messy—the wind could only make it more so.

  Her real worry was that they’d take one look at her and turn her away at the door. It wasn’t like she was eighteen anymore. A decade later, not even close.

  Which was why she hoped that hot and sexy would be enough. From her closet she’d found a white halter top and a short sequined peach skirt, both of which had been gifts from her former husband. In hindsight, his desire for her to dress as a slutty coed should have been her first clue of how things were going to work out. Miraculously, the skirt had slid up over her full hips, and a quick scan in the mirror had surprised her. The skirt, combined with the four-inch strappy gold sandals, make her legs actually look longer. That had to be a bonus, right?

  The top was where she was more concerned, as, even now, she tugged at the neckline that nearly revealed enough cleavage to make the whole thing irrelevant.

  But seeing Travis’s face go slack with surprise when he saw her waiting at the front door had assured her this was the right choice. Especially when she’d had to repeat her question if he was ready to go. He’d had to clear his throat to form a reply.

  Oh, yeah. It had definitely been worth it.

  And even though Travis hadn’t changed into anything different, wearing the same jeans that molded perfectly to his quads and ass and the short-sleeved black tee that was more like a second skin over his hard, sculpted torso, the look worked for him. She risked a glance over at him, his hand casually on the wheel. Yeah, he’d do just fine.

  But she had to focus. This wasn’t a date.

  This was maybe their best chance of finding her daughter.

  The ping from Travis’s cell phone caught her attention, and he picked it up and glanced down. “Text from Bryce. He’s running late but should be here in half an hour.”

  “Here?”

  He turned right at the next block. “Here as in…we’re here.”

  A familiar old three-story building sat on the corner lot. Even from the street outside, she could hear music blaring with every swing of the front doors as patrons mounted the steps and entered the establishment.

  “I know this place.” Surreal. Once upon a time this was the hangout for students from the U and anyone else who had a fake ID—her included. “This doesn’t look like an abandoned building, though.”

  “From what Bryce said, whoever organizes these events has used this place before on the weekends. There’s a third floor that’s private.”

  She scanned the sidewalk, where gaggles of girls in their early twenties, wearing tiny outfits and dangerously high shoes like hers, were making their way to the club. Any doubts she’d had about fitting in almost melted away entirely. Save for maybe a handful of years, she didn’t appear that much different from these women. She just felt different.

  Probably having to do with raising a teenager daughter for the past seven years.

  They drove farther down the street until Travis found a spot to park the car. He glanced around, then reached over to open the glove box and grabbed a gun.

  Meredith watched in shock as he did a check of the weapon and then tucked it in some kind of holster on his left side before pulling his T-shirt back down to cover his waistband.

  How long had he been carrying that thing?

  It made the danger of the whole situation hit home, and she sat frozen in her seat while Travis came around to open her door.

  “Second thoughts?” Travis asked from above her. “I can do this myself, Meredith, if you want to stay out here.” He didn’t sound condescending, though, as he said it. If anything, maybe a tad too excited at the prospect of leaving
her behind.

  “Not a chance. Let’s do this,” she said with tons more confidence than she felt. With her cell phone and driver’s license in her hand, she climbed out, conscious of Travis’s attention on her legs and hips as she smoothed her skirt down. She swallowed, too aware of the heat that burned in her belly at the appreciation in those green eyes before he looked away.

  “Let’s get going,” he said.

  They followed behind a group who looked like they’d already started the celebrations, some of the girls wavering as they walked. Meredith’s own excitement and nerves propelled her forward, wanting to overtake and pass the group in her eagerness to get inside and find some answers.

  Travis grabbed her elbow and drew her back. “Slow down,” he said under his breath. “You’re supposed to look like you’re heading in to have fun—not interrogate and decimate every person you come into contact with.”

  This time he placed his hand around her waist, and she nearly jumped out of her heels from the unexpected contact. “Relax. Remember. We need to look like a couple. Try and act like you like me.”

  Something that shouldn’t be too hard. Considering she’d been trying hard to disguise how much she was coming to like the stupid guy.

  At the door, they held their IDs out, although Meredith couldn’t help noticing the guy barely glanced at the IDs before passing them through.

  “Here,” Travis asked, holding his hand out. “Want me to put those in my pocket?”

  She handed over her ID but stared down at the cell phone. Her lifeline to Darcy. She couldn’t part with it. “I’m going to hold onto this,” she said, and looked down for somewhere to keep it. She settled on slipping it into the front of her top, sandwiching it, for lack of a better term, between her ample breasts.

  There. That should hold it.

  She smiled back at Travis, who seemed at a loss as he continued to stare at her chest region. Finally, he shook his head and shoved her ID into his back pocket before returning his hand to her waist. They walked into the hubbub of activity.