Starks' Reality

by Sarah Storme

  “Want me to prod them along a little?”

  “That would help.”

  “Done.”

  “Thanks again.”

  ~~**~~**~~

  Coop chased scrambled eggs around his plate half-heartedly, and then dropped his fork.

  Heather studied him while he ate, wondering what he was thinking. When he looked up, she realized she wasn’t even sure what she was thinking.

  “Deuce, I’m real sorry about last night.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  He looked down. “I...don’t know. I felt so—” He sighed. “I was scared. There are things I don’t want to remember. It’s just easier when I’m drinking.” He looked up again and met her gaze. His eyes brimmed with tears. “In some ways. God, I hate seeing the disappointment on your face. It tears me up.” His voice cracked.

  Her heart broke and she hurried to him. “Oh, Coop,” she said. He grabbed her and pressed his face to her stomach. She cradled his head and shoulders. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

  As Heather held her father, she thought about Jake. He said he’d been through this. Who had comforted him when he’d stumbled?

  Maybe he hadn’t stumbled. She couldn’t imagine him so vulnerable.

  After a long time, Coop sat back, wiping his face. “I’m sorry.”

  Heather leaned over, kissed the top of his head, and then wiped her own face. She carried the dishes to the sink before she returned to the chair beside her father.

  “I love you,” she said. “I want to help.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  “Hey, they’re your genes,” she said.

  He studied her face for a long time. “Deuce, what’s up with you and the chief?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, is it serious?”

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.”

  She looked down at her hands. If she admitted how she felt out loud, even to her father, it would be too late to ever take it back.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “It’s not serious.”

  He nodded slowly. “Please be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.”

  Coop sighed and Heather stood.

  “Are you ready to see if we can salvage anything?” she asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Okay. And then we need to get the bar open before we miss the lunch crowd.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  After cleaning up the kitchen, Heather started toward the bathroom, but stopped at the sofa where she’d spent the short night in Jake’s arms. What would he do if he discovered how she really felt about him?

  ~~**~~**~~

  Jake broke a sweat just sitting in the shade. Stifling inland air clung to the ground like invisible fog.

  He’d been in place under the scrub oak for nearly four hours, and nothing had happened. Tanner Radisson’s house lay two hundred yards in front of him. No one had gone in or out of the gate, and only Eileen Murphy had stepped outside for a short swim two hours earlier.

  Jake wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find, or why he even sat there, but his gut told him Radisson was involved in something that wasn’t on the up-and-up, and he wanted to know what.

  He’d also wanted to spend a little time alone to sort out his thoughts. The whole thing with Heather unnerved him. Standing in his kitchen, she’d looked like she belonged in his world. Or maybe he belonged in hers. Either way, it sure as hell didn’t fit with his plan not to get attached.

  Jake brushed an ant from the top of his boot.

  Heather had asked about his marriage, but there were things he’d never tell her.

  Things he’d never tell anyone.

  Things he’d always hate himself for—like the night he got Serena pregnant with Karen. He remembered it clearly, even though he’d been loaded at the time. As he closed his eyes, the night started like a movie in his head, complete with smell and touch.

  Serena walked in the front door, surprised to find him home.

  He’d been on desk duty while IA investigated him for shooting a street punk who’d robbed an old woman at gunpoint. It was a clean shoot—the punk fired first. Still, he’d been riding the desk for a week and he hated it. Unable to stand it for another second, he’d lied to his sergeant about feeling sick and sucked down a pint of Jim Beam on the ride home. When he got there, he’d found the house empty at eight o’clock at night.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he asked.

  Serena narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing home?”

  “What difference does it make? I’m home and you’re not. Where the hell were you?”

  “I was at a movie,” she said, dropping her purse into a chair by the door. She kicked off her heels, picked them up, and started upstairs.

  “At a movie?” He watched her climb the stairs in the blue silk dress she saved for special occasions. A movie didn’t sound like a special occasion. He bounded up the stairs after her and caught her at the top. He grabbed her arm, jerked her around, and shoved her against the wall. “Who did you go to the movie with?”

  She turned her face away. “You’re drunk.”

  “Not that drunk.” He grabbed her face and turned it back. “Who are you screwing?”

  If he’d been sober, he might have seen the swing coming and ducked. She slapped him hard enough to send him backwards a step. As he stumbled, she broke free of his grip, ran up to their room, and slammed the door.

  When he recovered from the surprise, he ran after her, driven by rage. The locked door presented only a minor obstacle. He turned sideways and charged it, shattering the frame.

  Serena stared at him from across the room. At first her eyes registered fear, but the fear turned quickly into defiance. He marched to her, grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her to the wall.

  “Where’s Becky?” he asked.

  “What do you care? You’re never here. You don’t even know what she looks like.”

  “Is she coming home anytime soon?” Anger strangled his voice.

  “No.”

  “Good.” He reached down and ripped the dress open. “I don’t want her to hear you scream.”

  At that moment, he truly hated Serena. He planned to do something he’d never done in his life—he planned to take her by force. She would suffer for deserting him.

  He pressed her to the wall and reached between them to remove the rest of her clothes. She struggled, trying to kick him, which only made him more determined. Before he was done, she’d have to beg for mercy.

  Then she quit struggling. Very calmly, quietly, she said, “Jake, don’t do this.”

  Something about the way she said it was like the hand of death closing on his heart. He froze, holding her wrists to the wall above her head with one hand, feeling her heart beat against him.

  It wasn’t her he hated at that moment. He hated himself. He’d become one of the lowlifes he worked every day to put away.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  He released her wrists, wrapped his arms slowly around her waist, and fell to his knees, pulling her with him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, choking on the shame, his face buried in her neck.

  She put her arms around him, but didn’t answer.

  They’d had sex on the floor. He’d thought, at the time, that they were making love. Thinking back on it, he realized she had simply given in. For whatever reason, she hadn’t resisted. Maybe she’d been afraid to resist. It had been so long since he’d been with her that it hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, in spite of the alcohol. Then he’d stumbled to the bed and passed out.

  The next morning, they’d both acted like nothing had happened.

  That had been the last time they were together until after Karen was born. He didn’t even sleep in Serena’s bed for those nine months.

  With a sigh, Jake o
pened his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t thought about that night in years. It was easier to live with himself when he pretended it hadn’t happened.

  No, Heather would never know how much he’d changed.

  And what if he hadn’t changed? The question sent a chill up his spine. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ever hurt Heather.

  Jake stood and brushed dirt from his pants. He was wasting time. The best thing he could do was get back home and see if Kazinski had uncovered anything during his investigation of the fire.

  Then maybe he’d pull Heather into the back room and kiss her until his lips were numb.

  He put on his hat as he pulled open the car door.

  Before he could climb in, however, a growing noise caught his attention—the sound of a car coming up the road. He eased the door shut and returned to his post.

  A vehicle sped by, fifty feet in front of him, skidding to stay on track. Jake raised the binoculars.

  The car stopped at the gate, which immediately opened. After parking in front of the house, the driver jumped out just as the front door opened. Radisson emerged from the house, hands on his hips, frowning. The driver, a big man, pulled off his hat and slapped it against his leg in anger. His full head of red hair looked downright fiery in the sunlight.

  “Shit.” What was Red Daily doing out of uniform, arguing with Radisson in front of the man’s house? It couldn’t be police business.

  The two men argued for several minutes on the doorstep. Red looked around as if he felt Jake’s eyes on him, then he motioned toward the house and followed Radisson inside. The door closed with a thud that echoed across the dry ground.

  Jake put the glasses down and considered the situation. He couldn’t leave in front of Red and run the risk of Red catching up to him before they reached the main road. Instead, he’d have to wait for Red to leave first. He draped his left arm over his knee and sighed.

  What the hell was going on?

  CHAPTER 15

  The house smelled like a five-star restaurant. Jake closed the door and turned to find Heather in the kitchen.

  “Hey,” she said. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”

  “Great.” Jake walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the side of her neck. “What are we having?”

  “Gumbo, baked redfish, and asparagus.”

  “Really?”

  She turned her head to look at him and smiled. “Yep.”

  He stole a quick kiss from her heated lips, and then smacked her bottom as he walked away. “I’ll take a four-minute shower.”

  Washing off the sweat, he thought about how nice it would be to have Heather to come home to every evening. Was it possible for him to lead a normal life? At the moment, it seemed that way. Unfortunately, he knew how deceiving the moment could be. They hadn’t faced hard times together. He hadn’t had a really bad night with Heather in the house. She didn’t know just how dark his darkness could be, or how tentative his hold on his temper sometimes was.

  If she knew, would she leave?

  If she was smart, she would. And Heather was definitely smart.

  But the arrangement wasn’t permanent, so why not enjoy it? When she left, he’d have to adjust to being alone again. He’d done that before.

  Jake hurriedly dried off, dressed, and combed his hair. Before leaving the bathroom, he pulled several packs of condoms out of the box under the sink and tucked them into his back pocket. One thing for sure—he wouldn’t get caught unprepared.

  Coop sat at the kitchen table. Heather placed a steaming platter in the middle of the table and sat near her father. Jake sat across from him.

  “How did it go today?” Jake asked.

  Coop shrugged. “We salvaged what we could. It wasn’t much, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re both welcome to whatever I have.”

  Coop smiled. “Thanks.”

  Jake couldn’t believe how incredible the meal tasted. Skeet’s gumbo, of course, was fantastic. But Heather’s cooking talent surprised him. Hmm, an engineer chef.

  “Good thing you aren’t here permanently,” Jake said.

  Heather stiffened in her chair and looked at him.

  “I’d have to double my workout time,” he said.

  If her father hadn’t been there, he would have made an obscene comment about the kind of workout he had in mind. Heather looked down at her gumbo bowl and blushed, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

  “Have you heard anything from the fire chief?” Coop asked.

  “I called him a little while ago,” Jake said. “He’s pretty sure it was arson. He found signs of an accelerant, probably gasoline.”

  “Oh, man. I can’t believe this shit. First I get arrested for murder, and now someone burns down my house.” Coop pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead.

  “You ought to go ahead and file the insurance claim,” Jake said.

  “Yeah,” Coop said, “I’ll call them tomorrow.”

  Jake caught a glimpse of a frown on Heather’s face, but it vanished quickly.

  They finished the meal in relative silence. Heather started to gather dishes, but Jake took them from her. “You cooked, I’ll wash.”

  She acquiesced. “Then, I think I’ll check on Dolores and Skeet. If it’s not too busy, I want to close early tonight. We’ve all worked hard enough today.”

  “You want me to go with you?” Coop asked.

  Heather kissed her father’s cheek. “No, I’ve got it covered.”

  Jake filled the sink with soapy water.

  “I’ll be back,” Heather said from the door.

  Jake glanced at her and nodded.

  The dishes didn’t take long.

  “Can I get you something?” he asked Coop.

  “No, thanks.”

  “How’s everything else going?”

  Coop didn’t answer right away. Jake drained the sink, dried his hands, and returned to his seat at the table.

  The older man sighed heavily. “It’s been rough.”

  “It’ll get rougher.”

  Coop didn’t respond.

  “You know,” Jake said, “I’ve been thinking about last night. Maybe you weren’t seeing ghosts.”

  Coop grimaced. “You think I really saw Viet Cong on the beach?”

  “No, but maybe you really saw two men dressed in black. You couldn’t actually see their faces, could you?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, I guess not. It just felt like…well, like it did then.”

  “Coop, I think someone believes you saw something the night Tran was killed. I think they’re trying to warn you off, or maybe get you out of the way.”

  “Saw what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the killers.”

  “Oh, shit.” His eyes widened. “You think Heather’s in danger?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll go over and help her close up when the crowds start to leave. Obviously, whoever it is doesn’t want to be seen.”

  Coop nodded.

  Jake continued. “I’d like to have you both stay here until we get this figured out. At least, this way, I can keep an eye on you.”

  Coop frowned. “You’re sleeping with my daughter.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Jake swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

  Coop sighed again. “I guess you’re both adults.” He turned a steady gaze on Jake. “Don’t break her heart.”

  Jake leaned back in his chair. “You know as well as I do the future’s impossible to predict.” He rose, walked a circle, and leaned forward with his hands on the back of the chair. “I care about Heather. If anyone’s heart gets broken here, it’s liable to be mine.”

  Coop didn’t say anything, but Jake felt the man’s eyes on him as he crossed the room.

  “I’ll lock the door behind me,” Jake said. “If anything happens, there’s a loaded twenty-five semi-automatic in the top drawer of my dresser. The first round is chamber
ed and the safety’s on.”

  Outside, he pocketed the key and slowly walked the path to the road.

  What he’d told Coop was truer than he wanted to admit; his heart really was the one in jeopardy.

  ~~**~~**~~

  Jake sat in his usual seat. He looked fantastic in his gray T-shirt and jeans. The white cotton shirt he wore to cover his gun hid very little of his muscular chest.

  Heather filled a mug with coffee and placed it in front of him. When he started to pull change out of his pocket, she waved him off.

  “You can’t pay for coffee while you’re giving us a place to stay,” she said.

  Jake tossed quarters on the bar, and then leaned forward and spoke softly. “I’d rather not announce where you’re staying. And, as long as I’m chief of police here, I’m paying for coffee.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Then you better leave a decent tip.”

  He grinned wickedly. “I plan to take that out in trade.”

  “Oh?” Her face warmed in spite of her best effort to appear nonchalant.

  “When are you closing?”

  “Soon.”

  “Good.”

  Heather fought the urge to run everyone out. Fortunately, the last customer left shortly after ten. Dolores had gone home at nine, and Skeet didn’t stick around, once he saw that Jake planned to stay. That left the two of them alone in the bar.

  Jake kept a close eye on her, but he didn’t make any advances. Instead, he helped her lock up and followed her out the back door. As she started around the building, he caught her hand and pulled her back.

  “This way,” he said.

  “Jake.”

  He ignored her protest and dragged her behind him through tall grass.

  “Jake, where are we going?”

  “To the beach,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to be alone with you.”

  She jerked on his hand as she stumbled in a hole. “Then, let me lead,” she said. “I know where the trail is.”

  Once she got them onto the trail, progress was easier, but she purposely walked slower than he had. It was rare to have control when she was alone with Jake; she planned to enjoy it. He gripped her hand tightly, and she glanced back to find the moon reflected in his eyes.

  When they reached her private beach, they walked all the way to the edge of the water. A white foam line preceded a wave as it crawled up the sand and stopped at their toes.