by Gunn, Jenna
“I’ll be glad when I’m finished with all these forms.” I grumble.
“No, I meant, are you okay with what went down today? I don’t know how you and that guy know each other, but I know it bothered you. It’s hard to have someone arrested when there are ties.”
My hands hover over the keyboard for a second, “Yeah, it’s a fucked up situation. I’m seeing his sister…”
He drops into the rolling chair at the desk beside me. “Oh, dude. That’s harsh. Sorry, I know that has to suck.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, now I have to tell her I was the one who busted him.”
Jeremy scrunches his nose. “That’s a conversation no one wants to have. But it’s better to come from you than him, I think.”
“Of course, I totally agree. I don’t think Cameron will get a call for a while, so I have some time to get my shit together. But in the meantime, I’ve got another nightmare to deal with.”
With wide eyes he says, “I hate to even ask.”
“I don’t know if you remember Samantha, a girl I dated a long, long time ago...”
“I don’t think so.”
I sigh. “Well, let’s just say she’s a walking disaster, trouble follows her like a cloud waiting to scorch you with lightning. She called me this morning and asked me to drive her to rehab because her husband won’t do it.”
He chuckles, “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh, but boy, you’ve had a hell of a day.”
I drop my head into my hands, “Tell me about it. And it’s not even over.”
He flips open the laptop. “Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
I groan, “Say a prayer or a whatever for me.”
When I finally shove open the back door and step into the parking lot, it’s nearly seven thirty. I can’t believe the day I’ve had.
Once I’m closed in the cab of my truck, I cue up my voicemails. Bishop sound like a mad yellow-jacket, but fails to say exactly what he’s mad about. Great. One more thing to deal with.
I dial his phone. He answers, “About time. Hold on.” He covers the phone, his next words are muffled. A screen door opens and closes. I recognize the creaking sound. He’s at Anya’s.
“Where are you?” He asks.
“I’ve been tied up with a mountain of paperwork at the office.”
His voice is biting? “Yeah, is that true?”
“What the fuck, I thought we just went over this truth between brothers thing.”
“Alright, so maybe you are telling the truth about work, but I think you need to get to spilling about what the hell is going on. Are you fucking around with Samantha?”
I bark out a laugh, “What do you think?”
“Man, here’s what I think, if you’re fucking around with Samantha, I’ll never let you near Anya again.”
I grip the steering wheel so hard with my free hand the damn thing might snap off. I knew dating a friend of my brother was going to be a major fucking headache.
“You dick. I’m not sleeping with Samantha. How did you know she contacted me? Did she call you too?”
I’m about to be really pissed if he had the opportunity to head Samantha off at the pass but didn’t. Although, I’m not sure reasoning is possible with the girl.
He hesitates, “No, she didn’t call me. Anya knows she got in touch with you.”
What the hell? How does she know?
Then I remember, my phone was lying on the table...she must have seen.
“Goddammit.” I grate out. “She saw the messages, didn’t she?”
“She didn’t say that. She just said she knew.”
“I’m on the way. I’ll be there soon. Don’t go anywhere.” I disconnect the call as I start the truck.
I am such an idiot—I should have just told her what was going down, because now she probably thinks the worst.
God, how could I not have seen where this was heading.
Only now… now we have to deal with this, and with what’s happened with her brother.
I park behind Anya’s car in the driveway, leaving room for Bishop to leave even though I don’t know if I’ll be leaving or he will be.
The door creaks as I walk inside, not bothering to knock. Bishop and Anya are sitting at the table eating Chinese takeout when I walk in. Her eyes are full of hurt when she turns them toward me.
Before she has time to speak I say, “I’m sorry, I should have talked to you this morning.”
She blinks back the moisture that suddenly starts to load up on her lashes.
“I’m an idiot. I should have known that it would just be better to tell you why Samantha was getting in touch, but you already have so much shit to deal with, and honestly, I just wanted it to go away. I thought I could just call her and be done with it.”
“It feels like you’re cheating on me.” She bites out.
Bishop’s stone silent. Then he suddenly moves to stand up. “I’ll be outside.”
“You might want to stay, for support, for me and her both,” I say quietly. He lowers back into the chair.
“I’m sorry, I know it probably does seem like I’m cheating. I promise you with everything I am that I am not. I would never do that. You mean too much to me. Samantha called me because her husband won’t drive her to rehab. But she’s the least of our worries—”
I drop down into a squat, pull Anya’s hands into mine. “I have something I have to tell you, and you might want Bishop here for this. I know he’s been a friend for longer than I have.”
Her face pales, her eyes widen. She shrieks, “Oh my god. What? It’s Cam, isn’t it?”
Nodding, I quickly say, “Cam is safe, but he’s in jail. And I’m the reason he’s there.”
Tears that had barely been held back burst out of the corner of her eyes. She flushes red, then pale again. Her breathing is jagged and painful to watch. She shoves the chair back, jerks her hands away from me.
She’s shaking, her eyes wide, shining with tears now, clinging to the kitchen counter. “How? What did you do?”
I take a step toward her. “Anya, please, try to calm down.”
She screams, “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down. Wh—what happened?”
Bishop stands up, “Back off, Brandon, give her some room.”
“You got my brother arrested?” She sobs as she folds over at the waist, holding her arms tightly around her middle.
My insides are shredding into a million fragments of glass. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t like that. He was transporting—”
“Stop!” She shrieks. “Just stop…” Then her voice trails off as she wails, folding into herself.
My hands clench so hard that my fingers feel like they will snap off.
The field of my vision is just a haze of emotion when I see Bishop moving toward her. He kneels down on the floor beside her. His voice is low and calm. “Just take some breaths.” He does his best to sooth her and I just stand by, helpless.
When her crying eases, he says, “I think we need to hear exactly what’s going on.” His hand rubs along her back as he looks at me over her head. For a moment I see anger for me there, then something shifts, maybe he sees the agony I’m in, sees the desperate regret-filled tears that are burning down my face.
His eyes soften and he looks away. He pulls Anya against his chest, cradles her cheek against him. “Shh…”
The sight of him holding her nearly splits me in half.
It hurts like someone’s twisted a blade right into the apex of my heart to see her in his arms. I believe they're just friends, but it doesn't make it any easier to know that he’s the one who will be helping her now. There’s no way she’ll ever look at me the same.
“I’ll tell you what happened, then I’ll leave.” I say, choking out the words as if they were chunks of rock.
“Cameron was transporting a shipment of drugs, I guess. The boat he was using broke down. I was on the Rescue Boat that answered the dispatcher’s call. Someone spotted him drifting with the
engine’s cover up. When I got there, he needed some mechanical help. I got on the boat with him. That’s when I found the stash by accident.”
I draw a breath, my chest shaking with emotion. “I subdued him, we called the county police boat. They took him away.” I ram my hand into my hair as I watch Anya pressing her hands hard to her face. When her fingers fall away, she flicks her shattered gaze back to mine.
The looks she gives me are enough to eviscerate me.
If ever I’ve felt like a complete failure, it’s in that moment.
The words I say sound pathetic, but I say them anyway. “I’m sorry. It was my duty.”
Bishop’s eyes are steady and almost kind when he meets my gaze this time. “You did the right thing.”
I nod, knowing it was the right thing, no matter the wake it cuts through my heart.
“I’m sorry, Anya. I know this hurts like hell. I just couldn’t do anything else.”
Anya unsteadily rises to her feet. She pulls free of Bishop. Without looking at me, she passes by.
I’m surprised as hell when the front door opens. I figured she was heading to her bedroom for some privacy, but maybe she needed some air.
Bishop silently rises to his feet, shaking his head. His expression is hard, like he so often wears now. Ever since his divorce he’s been a changed man.
Matters of the heart are fucking brutal. I wonder if I’m destined to wear my pain like that too.
There’s a sudden sound outside. An engine is being gunned.
Both our eyes suddenly whip to the front of the house.
I pull my truck keys from my pocket, “did you leave your keys in the truck?”
Bishop scrunches his face. “Damn. I guess so.”
“I think she just took your ride.” I shove the door wide, we burst onto the stoop. She’s long gone down the street.
Bishop groans, “What the hell?”
“I guess she took it since her’s was blocked in. She’s probably on her way to the jail.”
“I just hope she can see straight enough to drive.” He mutters as he opens the passenger door to my truck.
24
The road is one big wavy mess in front of me. I blink and blink, but the tears keep coming.
Everything inside me hurts, like my heart has turned into a hundred jagged shards of glass. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think.
Blindly, I steer Bishop’s truck toward the county government center, where the county jail is.
When I picked Brandon up here, I never imagined I’d be returning so soon. If only this were as simple as bailing Cameron out for disorderly conduct.
Bitter anger courses through my veins, right alongside the charred remnants from my broken heart.
Broken by Cameron once again. Broken by Brandon now too, for doing what was right. Of course he’s a man of honor. That’s one of the things I appreciate most about Brandon, but when that honor is turned against me, what I thought I wanted in a man becomes the double-edged sword.
But none of this would be happening if Cameron didn’t do the stupid things he does. And now. Here I am, left to pick up the pieces again. Only this time, I’m afraid it’s bigger than I am.
Which makes me mad as a cornered jackal. It’s a good thing Cameron is going to be locked up because I might just rip him limb from limb if I could get my hands on him.
What was he thinking?
If he pulled this stunt to get the money for Carlos…
What a way to dig yourself into a hole you can’t get out of.
How much is bail for something like this? If there even is bail?
I’ve never dealt with anything so serious. “Damn it, Cam,” I growl.
The parking lot is almost as empty as it was at three in the morning. I park Bishop’s truck, lock it up, and make a beeline to the reception area. The same man who greeted me last time raises his eyes up from a crossword puzzle and peers at me through the bullet-proof glass.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Cameron O’Reilly.”
He opens a laptop and taps a few keystrokes. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you any information.”
“Is he here?”
He closes the laptop and crosses his arms. “Sorry. Nothing.”
I drop my head, rub my hands over my aching eyes. “When will I be able to find out something?”
“Someone will be in touch.”
My insides start to shake. A dry sob escapes me. I just want to wake up from this nightmare. Wake up about twenty years ago when nothing like this existed in my world.
Behind me the glass doors woosh open. I know it’s Brandon because his smell washes over me. Damn my hormones for recognizing him. And of course his brother is with him.
Of course they would know where I am.
But I am not happy to see them.
I can’t talk to Brandon Archer...unless I’m yelling. My emotions are like lava, waiting to fill the sky with vitriol.
I have more than half a mind to march right out the door and get in the truck again. I shoulder past the two tree trunk size brothers. I’m halfway to Bishop’s truck when Brandon catches up to me. He gets in front of me, but doesn't touch me.
Smart man. I might explode in a very ugly way if he does.
I glare at him. “Out of my way.”
He walks backwards, staying in front of me. “I know you’re super upset.”
“Really? You think?” I snap.
His jaw hardens, “Wait a minute, please.”
I try to get around him, he just inserts himself in my path again.
My words come out like broken glass, “I don’t want to see you.”
“Anya, listen to me. Bishop’s calling his friend, the District Attorney.”
I make it to the truck and click the fob, I try to jerk the door open but Brandon puts a hand on the doorframe, stopping me. I jerk against him, but can’t move the door, even when I try with all my might.
“Out of the way, you big ass.” I growl.
His blue eyes narrow, the bright blue darker than I’ve seen them, but he doesn’t say a word. He just holds the door frame. Calm and collected. Like infuriatingly always—perfectly in control of his emotions.
Finally, I shove the key fob into his chest. That’s when I realize I don’t have my phone. Which is just freaking great, because Cameron might be trying to reach me. I huff, “Fine. I’ll just get the deputy to call me a cab.”
I whirl around and head for the building. But of course… he follows me.
Infuriating man.
This time he does touch me—he grabs me around the waist. Which sets my fuse off. I start cursing.
His voice is hot and angry against my neck. “Will you just hold on a fucking minute?”
I twist around, shove at his arms. “No. Let me go or I’m going to start screaming for help.”
Bishop starts marching toward us and he holds up a finger as if to say one more minute.
I don’t give a damn what either of the Archers say right now.
“Let me go!”
A cop car pulls in and parks a dozen spaces away. The deputy gets out, adjusts his gun belt, his eyes steady on me. “Everything okay here?”
Brandon drops one arm, but pulls me under his wing. “Just fine, Ramsey.”
The officer narrows his eyes, “Oh hey Brandon. I didn’t know that was you.”
“Yeah, Bishop’s here too.” He nods toward the other side of the lot where Bishop is pacing, talking on the phone.
“You guys need something?”
“A friend got arrested, we’d like some information if you can find anything out. Cameron O’Reilly is his name.”
The officer nods, “Sure thing. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Thanks, man.”
He turns and walks toward the building, leaving us alone.
I shrug away from him and walk away. Everything in my brain sizzling with anger, hurt, confusion.
I finally lower myself down on the curb across the lot
from Brandon. Bishop’s still on the phone. I can’t look at Brandon. Something inside me splinters more when I do.
Time drags on.
Finally, the deputy comes out of the building. Bishop seems to hang up at the same moment. Both he and the officer walk toward Brandon. I rush over.
“Ramsey,” acknowledges Bishop.
The deputy nods, “Alright, I have some information. He’s here. He’s not eligible for bail yet. He’s going to get a county attorney assigned to him.”
Bishop speaks up, “Yeah, I just talked to my buddy who’s the D.A., he said that he probably will not be let out on bail.”
“But, he’s never been charged with anything before…” I interject.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
I swallow down the bile that’s choking me. “What can we do now?’
The deputy, with a sympathetic look in his eyes, says, “Nothing but wait right now.”
I press my lips together tightly, holding in the sob that threatens to devour me whole. I nod and turn away.
The men’s voices are low behind me as I walk numbly to Bishop’s truck.
After a few minutes, Bishop opens the driver’s door. “I’ll take you home.”
I’m numb. Broken. Brandon appears outside my window, when my eyes meet his I wish I could say something that conveys my hurt, my fear, my uncertainty, but I can’t.
Looking away, I feel lonelier than ever.
“Let’s go, please.” I say to Bishop.
25
Bishop’s truck is parked in the driveway of Anya’s house, next to her car, like mine should be.
Seeing that is like sticking an ice pick in the open wound in my gut.
I should leave. He’s obviously the person she needs tonight. And I’m not.
I should go home. But I can’t.
The night’s blackness fills the cab of my truck, as I sit, silently. Dying from the pain in the center of my shattered heart.
A thousand times I’ve put my hand on the door handle, only to pull back, to remind myself she doesn’t want to see me.
Or talk to me. Maybe ever again.
I’m staring off into space, when a sudden ring of my cell phone startles me.
Fuck. Samantha’s calling.
