Don't Breathe a Word: Includes a bonus novella (Texas Justice Book 2)

by Christie Craig

  Now, for the first time, he believed them. “Look at me,” he told Vicki. “Don’t start blaming yourself. I did that. I took the blame for Angie’s and the baby’s deaths. Right now, knowing you are about to do the same thing makes me realize how wrong I was. How wrong you’ll be to take that on. Don’t do it.”

  He held her and let her cry. It took almost twenty minutes before she stopped. But she didn’t move and neither did he. It was another ten minutes before he heard Bell call out. “Mama?”

  “Right here.” Vicki jumped up and brushed the tears off her cheeks. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “I need to use the bathroom.”

  Vicki disappeared down the hall. In a few minutes, she walked back in. “She’s a little nervous. I’m going to sleep with her.”

  Standing, he went to Vicki and pulled her closer. “You okay now?”

  She nodded. He knew she was lying, but he didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. As he watched her move back into the bedroom where Bell was, he hoped it didn’t take her three years to shed the guilt.

  Sweetie came up to him and barked.

  “You gotta potty, too, huh?”

  She danced from side to side. He found her leash and his gun. Right then his phone dinged with a text. He grabbed his phone and stepped outside.

  It was from Jody again. He read it. More bad news.

  She’d talked to Noel’s shooter. He claimed he didn’t know Esparza, but when asked about Pablo Valado, he admitted knowing him and even gave the alias the man had been using.

  Jody had checked flight records and found the man had flown to Texas this morning.

  Fuck. He dropped his phone back in his pocket. Knowing for sure the man was in Texas sent a shot of adrenaline to his gut.

  * * *

  A noise out on the bedroom patio had Juan jackknifing out of bed. Fear shot pain through his veins. He snatched his gun off the bedside table and went to the sliding glass doors. The second he pulled back the curtain, he saw a raccoon haul ass across the railing.

  Breathing too fast, Juan glanced at his phone on the bedside table. It was three. He hadn’t slept a wink.

  He remembered how devastated Vicki was hearing the news about Jefferies. Was she sleeping or, like him, wide awake worrying?

  He walked out of the bedroom. From the hall, he could see a light on in the other bedroom. He eased the door open. The lamp on Vicki’s side of the room was on. She had her back to him, so he couldn’t see if she was asleep or awake. Silently, he moved into the room.

  Her eyes were closed. She lay so close to Bell, he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. In fact, Vicki’s arm rested across Bell as if to protect her. That had him remembering how the child had screamed in her nightmare on the drive up here. Damn, if the need to protect her didn’t swell in his chest as well.

  The golden hue from the bedside light made them look like a painting. A Norman Rockwell painting. Even when they were asleep, the love between these two was apparent.

  Juan’s chest grew tighter. Part of him wanted to crawl into the bed, become a part of the picture, to be a part of a family and love. Then he remembered he’d had a family. Almost had one. Closing his eyes, he envisioned Angie, her stomach round with his daughter.

  He left and walked back into his bedroom. He stared at the pile of clothes on the floor. The guilt from when he and Vicki made love returned and had his lungs feeling as if they might explode.

  “Damn it!” He stood up, grabbed a blanket, a pillow, and his gun, and went to sleep on the sofa.

  * * *

  At six-thirty Saturday morning, Pablo sat in the hotel’s restaurant, his computer on, nursing a cup of coffee and a foul mood. Neither Sam’s nor Vicki’s phones had come online. But fuck, he was losing patience. Fury burned his stomach, while lack of sleep burned his eyes.

  He was half tempted to go back to California and kill Sam’s wife and child. Right now, killing someone would feel good.

  The waitress moved in and set a plate down. He looked down. “What the hell? I didn’t order scrambled eggs.”

  The waitress smiled. Smiled. “Oops, sorry.”

  “Sorry? I fucking told you I wanted my eggs sunny-side up.”

  “I-I’ll get you a new plate.” Her frown tightened, and she reached for his plate.

  “Hurry, and I’m not fucking paying for it. And refill my coffee. It’s cold.”

  Scowling while still smiling at him the way only a Southern woman could, she backed away.

  He’d been about to ask for her manager, but something on his screen flickered. He pulled it closer. “Finally!”

  Vicki’s phone was on. “Where are you?” He held his breath, waiting for a location to pop up.

  Finally, a Google map came up. He studied it. Where the hell was Piney Lakes, Texas? Then again, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was she was there. And he’d be there soon enough.

  * * *

  Vicki woke up at almost eight that morning. The emotion in her chest felt too heavy. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, go back to sleep and forget.

  “You finally awake?” Bell asked, stuffing her things back in her backpack.

  “Almost,” Vicki said. She’d been aware that Bell had been awake for a couple of hours.

  “Did you see the book about bugs that Mildred gave me?” Bell held up a book.

  Vicki gave her niece a forced smile. “No. I didn’t see it.”

  “You want me to read it to you?”

  “Let me wake up and we’ll do it later. Okay?”

  Bell nodded, looked at the book, then frowned. “I remembered something.”

  “What?” Vicki asked, worried it was about Bell’s father.

  “About me having a dream in the car. Do you think Juan thinks I’m a baby for waking up and crying?”

  Vicki’s heart suddenly felt swollen, and each beat made it feel more bruised. The child had no idea how brave she was, considering all that had happened. “No. He understands it was just a nightmare.”

  She reached over and took Bell’s hand in hers. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Uh-huh. Do you think Juan loves me, too?”

  Damn. “Why wouldn’t he?” she said, again aware this was going to hurt Bell when things ended. Vicki kissed her. “I’m going to go see if I can find some coffee to make.”

  * * *

  “Wake up,” Bell said in a singsong voice.

  “Bell!” Vicki, sitting at the kitchen table, scolded when she saw the girl kneeling beside the sofa next to Juan. “I told you to play silently and let him sleep.”

  “He opened his eyes before I said anything.” Her little-girl whine came with an extended lower lip.

  “She’s right. I was awake.” Juan sat up and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. His dark eyes met hers and she remembered crying on his shoulder last night about Dan. Dan, who was probably dead. She recalled Juan telling her she couldn’t harbor the guilt. His words had helped more than he knew. But with that relief came another memory and a pang of regret. She remembered him calling her Angie when they’d made love.

  A mix of emotions pulled apart the happiness and the hope she’d clung to the last few days. She looked away from him and at Bell, who stared at the floor as if Vicki had hurt her feelings.

  “I’m sorry,” Vicki said to Bell.

  Juan touched Bell’s shoulder. “It’s all good, isn’t it?”

  Nodding, Bell asked, “You want me to read to you? It’s about a girl who hates bugs. I know all the words but a few.”

  Juan smiled. “Do you hate bugs?”

  “A little. You want me to read it to you?”

  “Let me make some coffee and then you can read it to me.” He ruffled Bell’s hair, and the sweet gesture sent an ache to her chest.

  Vicki watched as he stood, giving Bell his back, and bent down to pull a gun out from under the cushion. No doubt he thought seeing the gun might scare Bell. He was right. It scared Vicki. Seeing it remi
nded her that they were still in danger.

  With the weapon against his bare abdomen, he walked into the kitchen and put it in a cabinet, high above Bell’s reach.

  Turning, he sniffed the air and looked around. “You made coffee?”

  “Yeah. I found it in the cupboard.”

  He faced her. Her gaze went to his bare chest. Then, so as not to stare, she glanced at the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I plugged in your computer.”

  “Of course not.”

  She stood, poured him a cup of coffee, doused it with cream she’d found in the fridge, and held it out to him.

  “Thank you.” He took the cup but continued to study her as if trying to read her emotions. “You sleep okay?”

  “Yeah. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll get the donuts out.”

  “Okay.” He reached up and ran his finger between her brows as if pointing out her worry line. The touch doubled the lump of achy pain in her chest. The kind that usually came when someone you loved touched you when you were angry.

  She reminded herself of two things: One, she didn’t love Juan. She couldn’t. And she’d keep telling herself that for as long as it took to believe it. Two, she couldn’t be mad at him. Who knew what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been here these last few days?

  “You sure you’re okay?” His words came out as a whisper that brushed against her sore heart.

  “Fine.” She stepped back.

  * * *

  Five minutes later, they were all at the table eating donuts. Juan had downed six mini powdered donuts and was still hungry. Vicki hadn’t finished two. She sipped coffee without talking. Bell never stopped talking, about Sweetie, about bugs, and asking him about all the different fish on the posters on the wall. He tried listening, but he found himself watching Vicki and worrying. Her silence bothered him. Was she feeling bad again? Or was the niggling thought that she was upset at him right?

  “Did you take your antibiotic?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Juan stood, grabbed the coffeepot, and refilled their cups.

  “Are you ready for me to finish reading the book?” Bell asked while dusting off the sugar from her fingers.

  “Let him drink his coffee,” Vicki said.

  “But he said—”

  “Bell, let him drink his coffee.” Impatience rang in her voice.

  “Okay.” Bell scooted off the chair and moved back into the living room. “I’m going to draw a picture of a bug for Mildred.”

  “That’s good,” Vicki answered.

  “Mom?” Bell called two seconds later.

  “What, hon?”

  “What’s the date today? I’m signing and dating this picture like a real artist.”

  “September tenth,” Vicki answered.

  “Shit,” Juan said. “No.”

  “You owe me a dollar,” Bell said.

  He ignored Bell and snatched his phone up to see the date, praying Vicki was wrong.

  She wasn’t.

  Guilt filled his lungs. Yesterday, he’d had sex for the first time. He’d had sex twice. Yesterday of all days. On his and Angie’s anniversary. “Shit.”

  “Ooh,” Bell said.

  “Bell, stop.” Vicki’s gaze cut to him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing!” He got up and walked out of the cabin.

  He stood out on the porch, the sun burning in his eyes, guilt burning his chest.

  The door behind him opened.

  “Juan?” Vicki said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.” He didn’t look back.

  Her hand came to rest on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just need a minute.” His tone wasn’t angry but impatient, and he instantly regretted his words.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  He turned around. The hurt he’d heard in her apology showed in her eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I just…” He ran both hands through his hair.

  “I know Bell’s a lot to handle in the morning.” Frustration filled her voice.

  When he realized she thought he was upset with Bell, he felt even guiltier. “No. It’s not her. I just…realized that yesterday was Angie’s and my anniversary. And instead of honoring that day, I…”

  “Slept with me,” she finished for him, her voice flat.

  He nodded. “I’m sorry. Look, this isn’t about you. It’s…”

  “You’re right. It’s nothing to do with me.” She walked back inside so fast that he felt the wake of her departure.

  He stood there, hands gripping the porch railing, and realized how bad that sounded. He wanted to explain, but how could he when it didn’t make sense to him? He wanted Vicki, he cared about her. He had every right to move on, yet it didn’t change the fact that he felt guilty.

  Walking back into the cabin, he still wasn’t sure what to say, but he couldn’t leave the tension in the air like this.

  Bell wasn’t in the living room. Vicki sat at the kitchen table, looking at the computer.

  He sat down beside her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound…angry. I’m not. I just—”

  She looked up. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I think I do.” He worked hard to sound patient.

  “No. You don’t. I get it.”

  “What do you think you get?” he asked.

  Silence hung in the kitchen for at least a minute before she answered. “You love your wife.”

  He couldn’t deny that. “That doesn’t—”

  “Stop. You don’t have to explain. I get what this is, Juan.” She drew in a sharp breath.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This thing between us. It’s not…serious.”

  “Wait. I didn’t say—”

  “Stop worrying, Juan.” She stood and opened the fridge.

  His mind raced for the right words.

  “We need to go to the store for some food,” she said.

  She continued to stare in the fridge. He was unsure what felt colder, the appliance or her.

  “Vicki, can we please talk? Come sit down.” He motioned to the empty chair where she’d been sitting.

  Right then, his gaze shifted to the computer. He read the words across the top of the screen: Apartments in Los Angeles: Let us help you find the perfect place.

  He read it again. “What are you…?”

  She looked back. He motioned to the laptop. “What’s this?”

  “Just looking.”

  Emotions reeling, he stood up. “You’re moving back to Los Angeles?”

  “When it’s safe.” She blinked. “It’s…it’s where I can make the most money.”

  “So…you can just walk away from this?” He motioned between them. “From us?”

  Her eyes tightened. Her lips thinned. “There is no us, Juan. You made that clear.”

  “I never said…” He stood up and went to her.

  She held out her hands and shook her head. “Yes, you did.”

  “No. Look, I know it sounded bad, but—”

  “You called me her name.” Her words came out gnarled with hurt and anguish.

  “What?”

  “When we made love. You called me Angie!”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry. It wasn’t…It’s not like—”

  “I feel like I’m the other woman. And I refuse to be the other woman.”

  A noise echoed from the front porch. The squeak of the screen door opening sounded too loud. Damn, he hadn’t even shut the door.

  Juan shot across the room and grabbed his gun.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Finger on the trigger, he swung for the door. When he saw his brother and sister-in-law, his breath caught, and he immediately lowered his gun.

  “Hi?” Ricky’s eyes widened.

  If he had any doubt whether his conversation with Vicki had been overheard, it vanished when his sister-in-law said, “I think this might be a bad time. We should go.” She gave her husband’s arm a tug
.

  “No,” Juan said, and then, “Yeah, probably.” Juan’s mind spun.

  His nephews’ voices sounded from the porch. They walked in, each holding a handle of a big ice chest, and dropped it on the living room floor.

  “Hi, Tío,” Ricky Jr. said.

  Bell, with Sweetie barking and dancing on her leash, ran out of the bedroom. “I think she needs to go…potty.” Her eyes went round when she spotted Juan’s family.

  Juan glanced back at Vicki. She blushed as if embarrassed. Hell, he felt it, too. His gaze shifted to Bell.

  Had they been talking loud enough for the kid to hear? “Bell, this is my brother and his family. Why don’t we take Sweetie out front for a minute.” When he headed to the door, he motioned for Ricky to follow him.

  * * *

  Pablo had sat in his car in the parking lot of Lakeside Shores, palming his gun. She was here. Somewhere. Vicki’s phone had come on, then gone off before his program narrowed down the exact location. But it appeared she was on the northwest side of what looked more like a fishing or weekend getaway place than a full-time residence. He got out of his car.

  Only a few minutes into the walk, he remembered why he hated Texas. The sun beat down on him and the air felt thicker than syrup. If not for the heat, he hated this place for the damn bugs. He swatted at an insect buzzing close to his ear.

  He’d done a quick Internet search of the area. The two-mile area contained about a dozen or so cabins. His mind raced trying to gather a plan, but there were just too many unknowns. Was Vicki alone? With his daughter? Or was the owner of the man’s shirt he’d found in her bedroom with her?

  The good news was the cabins appeared to be two- or three-acre lots, so no close neighbors to hear any screams. And he definitely planned on making her scream. The graveled road forked. Left or right? He managed to get the Google map pulled up on his phone.

  The map was useless. It didn’t show the two roads.

  He stared out to see if he could spot a cabin down either road. He couldn’t. But if it was set back in the woods, he wouldn’t be able to spot it from here. Taking the right fork, he walked down the road.

  Five minutes into the walk, he heard footsteps. He ducked into the woods and pulled out his knife. Some brush blocked most of his view, but not so much that he didn’t notice that the person coming toward him was a woman. Was it her?