by JoAnn Ross
“I can’t believe it!”
Molly had never seen Dan more furious. He was pacing her living room floor like a caged tiger who hadn’t eaten raw meat in a month. “I don’t understand. You said Tessa was scheduled to appear before the grand jury today—”
“That was the plan. Until the damn judge called in sick. Along with three of the jurors.”
“Perhaps they all came down with the flu?”
The look he shot her suggested otherwise. “It’s no coincidence. Someone got to them.”
“Surely that’s impossible,” Molly protested.
“Not for Jason,” Tessa muttered. She was sitting on Molly’s couch, and although the day was warm, she was wearing a sweatshirt and fleece leggings. She was so, so cold. “He’s got informants all over the city. It wouldn’t be that hard for him to find out who was on the jury, then threaten them.”
Having witnessed the results of Jason Mathison’s violent streak, Molly suspected he could prove horribly intimidating. But surely a judge would be beyond such tactics?
“The guy’s probably one of Elaine’s clients,” Tessa said when Molly professed such doubts. ”There’s no way he’s going to help make that list public.”
“Which is why the damn ring has been able to exist with impunity for so many years,” Dan ground out. “A large percentage of the movers and shakers in L.A. are on that list.”
“That’s why you cops spend your time busting the poor working girls on Sunset,” Tessa said. She began rubbing her arms to warm them. “Because they’re the only ones you can get a prostitution conviction on. Even if they are back out on the street in ninety days.”
Dan cursed again. Then looked at Tessa as if finally seeing her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Or would be if only she could figure out a way to get some pills. Her secret stash was running low; she’d had to cut way back to save enough to get her through the grand jury appearance. After her testimony she’d hoped Dan would quit standing guard over her like a police dog, long enough for her to make a buy.
God, you’re a mess, she told herself. It’s not like you’re hooked on crack or heroin. Why the hell can’t you grow up? How hard could withdrawal from a few prescription pills be?
Molly gave Tessa a long look, as well. “Dan’s right. You’re not at all well.” She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems with Reece—who hadn’t spoken to her since he’d brought her home Friday night—that she hadn’t even noticed her sister was suffering.
Tessa hated the way they were looking at her. “It’s just the air-conditioning. The room’s too cold.” How could she be so cold when it felt as if coals were burning inside her head?
“You seem nervous.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Tessa could feel the anxiety creeping up on her. “I was all psyched up to testify, and now Dirty Harry here informs me that the court date’s been postponed. Of course I’m nervous.” That was putting it mildly. Little bursts of electricity were sparking beneath her icy skin. “I don’t suppose anyone around here has a cigarette?”
“I didn’t realize you smoked.” Molly’s eyes narrowed.
“She didn’t during the interrogation,” Dan said.
She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Would you both just shut the hell up? What’s the matter with wanting a fucking cigarette? Who are you, the Surgeon General’s smoking patrol?”
Molly sat down beside her, and when Tessa tried to look away, Molly took hold of her chin and turned her face toward her. “You’ve been taking pills.”
“Of course I haven’t.” Tessa forced a laugh. “Jesus, how could I get drugs with the two of you hovering over me all the time?”
“Good question,” Molly said. “And one we can talk about later. After we get you to a clinic.”
“What?” Tessa leapt to her feet. “What the hell are you talking about?” She began to pace, as Dan had done earlier, but with much more hectic energy.
“How about the fact that you’re in deep withdrawal?” Dan asked.
Tessa turned on him, her hands fisted on her hips. “Spoken just like a former drunk. This is where I get the Twelve Step lecture, right?”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” His tone and his expression remained mild. “Unless you want me to.”
“I don’t.”
He shrugged. “Fine. However, since you’re obviously in withdrawal, not to mention being on the verge of a psychotic episode, your sister’s right. You need help.”
He turned toward Molly. “I’m going to call Reece and ask him to try to get Tessa into a clinic.”
Ignoring Tessa’s heated protests, he placed the call while Molly retrieved a blanket from the cedar chest at the end of the bed. “It’ll be okay,” she assured her sister, as she wrapped it around Tessa’s trembling shoulders. “You’ll be okay.”
Her teeth chattering from the godawful chill, Tessa only wished she could believe that.
Molly realized just how important Reece had become in the Hollywood community when, with a single phone call, he managed to circumvent the waiting list and get Tessa into Phoenix House, a popular rehabilitation clinic catering to the movie community.
“Two weeks isn’t that long,” she assured Tessa as she hugged her goodbye.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s going to have to deal with Nurse Ratchett for fourteen days.”
“She didn’t look that bad.” A bit humorless, Molly thought, but not cruel. And, although she wanted to protect her sister, she realized that Tessa needed someone with a no-nonsense attitude toward her addiction.
“She won’t be able to get anything past that dragon.” Dan echoed Molly’s thoughts as they walked out of the clinic. Hopefully by the time Tessa was released, the grand jury would have convened with a new judge.
“Like she did me?” Molly still couldn’t understand how Tessa could have been using drugs without her noticing.
“You’re a classic caretaker, Molly. A rescuer. But the problem is, while you’re a dynamite ER nurse, you don’t have any real experience with drunks and addicts.
“You’re like a guy without any lifeguard training who’s walking along the beach and sees a person drowning. Feeling a gut-level need to help, he rushes into the surf, swims out to the victim, who thrashes around so much, they both end up drowning.”
“That wouldn’t have happened to me.”
“Yes. It would have.” He turned to her and took both her hands in his. “Believe me, I’ve seen it happen too many times to count. Trying to fix your sister up all by yourself would eventually end up draining all your confidence and energy. And Tessa still would be an addict.”
His grim expression softened and he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “You’re a bright, wonderful woman, Molly. But you have an unfortunate tendency toward denial.”
“I know.” He wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t told herself a thousand times. “I’m working on that.”
He laughed. And winked. “Me, too.”
Linking their fingers together, he continued walking with her back to the car.
Watching them out the window, Tessa felt a sharp jolt of something that even as messed up as she was, she could easily recognize as jealousy.
“I don’t care,” she muttered, turning away from the window to begin pacing again. Where the hell was that doctor, anyway? They’d promised her something to take the edge off. “Only an idiot would fall in love with some ex-alcoholic cop.”
Only an idiot. The description, Tessa admitted with chagrin, fit her perfectly.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A week after Tessa was admitted to the rehab clinic, Molly was sitting in her kitchen with Dan, sharing a pizza, two bottles of nonalcoholic beer and some eye-opening conversation about addiction. Although Molly had known he’d had a drinking problem, she was amazed to discover exactly how bad it had gotten before he’d sought help.
“I never knew,” she admitted, nonplussed that t
his man she’d believed she knew so well had been so out of control.
“Most drunks are great liars. And, in the cop business, it’s pretty easy to cover up. Because you get a lot of help from the troops.”
“The old us-against-them mentality.” Molly had witnessed it hundreds of times with cops in the ER, whether they were shooter or victim.
“Hey, we’re the good guys. The rest of the world are assholes,” he agreed easily. When he realized what he’d said, he flushed. “Sorry about that.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’ve heard worse.” She grinned and stood up as the doorbell rang. “In fact, I’ve been called worse.”
Dan was still laughing about the thought of anyone calling Saint Molly an asshole when she opened the door to Reece.
“Oh, hi.” Her unruly heart, which had leapt at the sight of him, made her voice breathless.
“Hi.” He glanced past her, as if trying to locate the source of the male laughter. “If I’ve come at a bad time…”
“Of course not.” Molly moved aside, inviting him in.
She was wearing a tangerine-colored dress that looked like an oversize T-shirt, and ended a good four inches above her knees, showing her long legs to advantage.
“Dan’s here. We were having pizza.”
“Sounds like fun.” Reece frowned as he walked into the cheery yellow room and found the cop looking all too comfortable sitting at the antique farm table he knew Molly had refinished herself.
“I thought I’d drop by to make sure you got Tessa checked in,” he said after exchanging a curt greeting with the cop.
“We did. And thanks again for pulling all those strings. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would have thought of something. And I have no doubt Dan would have been more than happy to help.”
Hearing the edge in his friend’s voice, Dan glanced from Reece to Molly, then back to Reece again. Sensing the sexual tension shimmering between them, he decided it was time to leave.
“Gotta go.” He stood up and hugged Molly. Suddenly nervous to be alone with Reece, she hugged him back, holding on tight. “Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“Nah.” He grinned down at her. “You’ll do fine,” he murmured for her ears only. “See ya,” he said with a nod to Reece, who nodded back.
Waiting in the kitchen, listening to their murmured conversation at the door, Reece reminded himself that he had no right to be irritated by Dan’s presence.
If Molly wanted to invite the entire goddamn police department over for pizza, it wasn’t any of his business. Just because they’d made love didn’t give him any right to dictate her friends. She had her life, just as he had his. It was what he wanted, what he’d demanded.
So why the hell was he so pissed?
“Would you like some pizza?” she asked as she returned to the brightly lit kitchen.
“No.” He shook his head. “I think you know what I want, Molly.” He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind for days. “I haven’t been able to sleep.”
“I’m sorry.” It was the only lie she’d ever told him. And Molly didn’t feel at all guilty about it.
“I can’t work, either. I’ve got a script due tomorrow and I haven’t written a single decent line.”
She tossed back her hair. “Are you blaming me for destroying your concentration?”
His eyes locked on hers. “Who else?”
He moved quickly, before she had time to answer. Or breathe. Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he scooped her up into his arms.
“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” she asked as he carried her out of the kitchen.
“Later.”
The male hunger in his heated kiss thrilled Molly. The need made her want to weep with relief. After days of ignoring her, Reece had come back. Just as she’d hoped. Just as she’d prayed.
“Later,” she agreed breathlessly, wrapping her bare legs around his waist as she rained kisses on his face.
They tumbled together onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Molly’s dress was whipped over her head before she could draw a breath; a moan ripped from her throat as he covered her breast with his mouth, dampening the flowered bra, creating an enervating heat.
“No.” Although it took every ounce of self-control she possessed, she pulled away.
“No?” Reece looked at her disbelievingly.
“It’s my turn.” Kneeling over him, she began ripping at the buttons on his shirt. As impatient as she, he helped her, and when the rest of their clothes were gone, he pulled her back down to him, his kiss hot and greedy and filled with sharp, edgy need.
She sprawled atop him, hot flesh molded to hot flesh, hearts pounding in a wild, shared rhythm.
“Oh, God, I want you.” He filled his hands with her breasts.
When his teeth tugged on a rigid peak, Molly felt a jolt of electricity shoot from his mouth to that tingling, hot wet place between her legs.
“I want you, too,” she managed on a ragged gasp as he reached between them and cupped that throbbing heat. “But first it’s my turn to drive you mad.”
Reece wanted to assure her that their days apart had already done that, that he’d been going crazy with need for her. But before he could tell her all that, she began touching him, stroking him, caressing him with her hands and her mouth, sparking smoldering embers.
This time it was she who rolled the condom down his tumescent flesh, and although she fumbled a little, Reece found her insistence both sexy and endearing.
Still surprising him with her uncharacteristic assertiveness, she straddled his hips, lowered herself onto his straining shaft, surrounding him with her slick tight heat, then began rocking her hips back and forth in a way that caused an almost painful friction between them.
When Reece felt Molly’s body begin to spasm around him, he grabbed her hips, forcing her down even as he slammed upward. A tidal wave flooded over him, dragging him down into a churning, red-black sea. When he finally surfaced, he was laughing.
“Did I do something wrong?” Worry marred her forehead.
“Aw, baby, I’m sorry. Of course you didn’t. You were wonderful. And I laughed because I feel so damn good.” He rolled her over and gave her a long wet kiss. “You feel good.”
She smiled and cuddled up against him. And as they lay there, arms and legs entwined, Reece realized that the quicksand was rapidly closing in over his head and he couldn’t even get up the strength to care.
“Well, that sure should have done it,” he murmured.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were still dark with passion, as deeply blue as a storm-tossed midnight sea. “Done what?”
“Gotten you out of my system.”
“I certainly hope not.” Since she’d decided not to push Reece into admitting emotions he wasn’t prepared to face, Molly forced a bright and breezy tone. “Because I surely haven’t gotten you out of mine.” She nuzzled his neck. When she nipped at his earlobe, he felt a renewed stir of hunger.
“You should have told me you were insatiable,” he said as he rolled them over, urging her legs apart.
She gave him a sassy, very unnunlike grin. “You should have asked.”
Her long limber legs wrapped around him; her body bowed; her dancing dark eyes fluttered shut on a sigh of pleasure as he filled her.
“I love you,” she said, unable to censor her words when her heart was so overbrimming with emotion.
He bent his head and kissed her. A soft heartfelt kiss suggesting a promise his head was not yet prepared to make. “I know.”
It was all either of them was to say for a very long time.
She just couldn’t do it. Tessa paced her room, smoking one of the ten cigarettes a day she was permitted, still fuming over the earlier group-therapy session. How dare all those losers get on her case! Just because she hadn’t grown up in some rat-infested tenement, like Marcus. Or been raped by her father when she was twelve like that screwed-up loser Rosea
nne.
“Did they think it was easy, having to go to a different school every year?” she muttered as she glared out the window at the rose garden. Her chore for today had been to cut off all the dead blooms. Her fingers were still bleeding from that work session. “I need a manicure.” She dragged her hand through her hair. “And a shampoo.”
Hell. What she needed was a pill. Just one lovely little yellow Valium. Or a pretty purple Xanax. Anything to stop her nerve endings from jumping inside her skin.
It wasn’t fair they were keeping her prisoner! Hell, for all the freedom she had, she might as well have been in jail.
“Which is where Dudley Do-Right would probably put me, if he could.” She took a last long drag on the cigarette, burning it all the way to the filter, then ground it out in a clear glass ashtray on which a phoenix bird had been painted. Nice bit of advertising, Tessa decided, wondering if she was expected to take the ashtray home with her at the end of her stay and leave it out on the coffee table for her friends to see.
Everyone knew addicts had junkie friends. Putting decals on ashtrays was certainly a cheaper way to get the word out than those television ads Phoenix House ran, which showed a beautiful blonde in a flowing dress sitting in the rose garden.
“No one ever mentions she’s going to be expected to prune those fucking roses herself,” Tessa muttered as she lit another cigarette and drew the smoke deep into her lungs. The nicotine calmed. But not enough.
As she continued to pace and smoke, Tessa plotted her escape.
Molly was gone when Tessa let herself into the apartment with the spare key she’d stolen from Molly’s kitchen junk drawer. She was relieved that her sister wasn’t home. Relieved and a little disappointed.
She dialed the number she knew by heart.
“Hello?”
At the sound of that all-too-familiar deep voice, Tessa began to shake. No, some little voice deep in the far reaches of her mind counseled. You don’t really want this man back in your life.
