Burning Ache

by Adrienne Giordano

  He shook his head, let out a sigh and looked down at his feet, shuffling them against the brick. Shuffle-shuffle. Shuffle-shuffle.

  Way gave him a second. Grief, like these mean streets, was a bitch, too. No matter what kind of trouble Chad Hopkins got into, he was still loved.

  An idea circled in Way’s mind, looping and looping, but not fully forming. He glanced back at Roni, who held his gaze, then gave a subtle jerk of her chin. Clearly, she wanted him moving on, so he went back to Cody.

  “What about Reggie?”

  Shuffle-shuffle. “He smokes a little weed, but he’s into boosting cars and running with the Dragons. He’ll get caught one day. Nothing I can do about it anymore. Damn, these boys.”

  “What about Chad? You think you’ll find out who did it?”

  Cody shrugged. “The street’ll eventually talk and Reggie’ll hear about it. He can’t keep his nose out of anything. Just like Chad.”

  The kid appeared in the window again and Way’s thoughts finally stopped spinning. If he could help this guy get his family out of this shit hole… “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, his eyes still on the little girl.

  Cody let out another frustrated snort. “I’m not big on deals. I tend to get screwed.”

  Way shook his head. “Not this time. Here’s the deal: You pass on any info about Chad’s murder. If it leads to me finding out who’s messing with these bullets, I’ll set up a trust for your kid. Get her into one of the private schools in the area. That work?”

  The man cocked his head, stared at Way with narrowed eyes that screamed of mistrust.

  Cody needed a push. A reason to buy in. “I want information,” Way said. “That information is worth a lot to me and keeping your daughter out of trouble is worth a lot to you. It’s a win-win scenario.”

  Ten minutes later, after pounding out the details of Way’s offer, Roni and Way climbed back into the Tahoe.

  “That was quite an offer you made.”

  Roni snapped her seatbelt on and hit him with a direct gaze. He’d play this off. No problem. “Not really. He has something I need. I gave him incentive.”

  Roni laughed. “Oh, okay. Incentive. Great. Do you even know what private school costs? You didn’t have to go that far.”

  “Says who?” He fired the engine, then waved a hand. “Look around. Kids are living in this. Is it any wonder Reggie turned out the way he did?”

  “You can’t fix them all. Believe me.”

  “Never said I wanted to. I see this and it makes me realize how lucky I was. My mom worked hard. She wasn’t around a lot, but we always had food in our bellies and discipline. I grew up in paradise compared to these kids. That little girl is young. I can’t get her out of this neighborhood, but a better school gives her a shot. And if I can help, I’m all in.”

  “You are something else."

  He pulled from the curb, using it as an excuse not to look at her. Really, he didn’t want to discuss this. All he could think about was that little girl in the window and how it could have been Roni.

  Roni had found a way out. This little girl deserved that same shot. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “As you should. Just be ready in case they start feeding you bogus information.”

  “If it’s shitty intel, he gets nothing.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  “I guess we will.”

  10

  West Waylon Kingston is turning out to be a nuisance.

  I’m sitting in my crappy rental, parked down the street from a place called Blues, Brews, and Books, a quasi-bar, restaurant, and coffee shop located in small-town Steele Ridge. It’s my first visit and as I pretend to fiddle on my iPad, just another stranger passing through, I keep my eye on Kingston’s black Tahoe parked three cars down in front of a boutique.

  This town is…quaint. Something you’d see in a tourism magazine with freshly painted storefronts, vintage and recently renovated brick buildings, and gleaming streetlamps that remind me of a Dickens novel.

  I can see why folks live here. There’s a peacefulness to the place that stems from belonging to something far greater than oneself. A sense of connection.

  I despise it with a fury that tears my gut apart and burns straight through to my skin, eating at my flesh.

  Anger does that. Erodes the insides until there’s nothing left but the rubble of a failed existence.

  Steele Ridge, is a fucking fairytale-esque mirage that transfixes folks, fools them into false security and happy-ever-afters. I’d like to stand in the middle of this cute little town and tell every one of these idiots that life, in and of itself, sucks.

  It sucks and then you die.

  Deal with it.

  Something I’m now doing. With my mission slowly spinning from my control, reconnaissance on Way Kingston, a man I don’t need nosing around in my business, takes priority.

  Fifteen minutes ago, Mr. Kingston walked into the coffee shop and has yet to exit. Whether he’s met someone or not, I can’t know and I’m not about to walk in there and check.

  My early peek at the comings and goings of Kingston indicates he has a surprising partner in one Veronica Fenwick. Between the two of them, their combined skills are a problem.

  Unfortunately for them, I’ve spent a career slicing and dicing issues bigger than them. I glance at the seat beside me and my briefcase containing my Colt .45.

  Whatever I need to do today, I’m ready for it.

  It would be a shame really. Two do-gooders in the world shouldn’t be a bad thing. But I can’t have them jeopardizing my mission. No matter how innocent Kingston and Fenwick are, public safety comes first. If they keep digging around, they’ll blow this whole thing.

  I’ll chalk them up to collateral damage. A loss suffered in pursuit of justice. It happens.

  The mission is the mission.

  Movement from the coffee shop catches my eye. Kingston. An older woman on the street stops him and he pauses, smiling down at her.

  From what I’ve gathered, he’s a loner, but a good Southern boy, always willing to lend a hand to a neighbor or an animal in need. Good for him.

  Collateral damage.

  He breaks away from the woman, hops into his SUV, and backs out of his parking space heading away from me. I give him a thirty-second head start, then back out of my own spot.

  His years in the military give him above-average evasion skills and in this fantasyland of a small town, strangers don’t stay strangers for long.

  I shift the car to drive and lightly press the gas, hanging back a good distance as he turns left off of Main Street.

  Ahead of me, he cruises along, drawing me past ranches and craftsman-style homes, some with gleaming porches. Others show their age and despite sagging gutters hold a certain charm inherent with older communities.

  In a different time, I’d have loved this town.

  Kingston’s brake lights flash and—tsk-tsk—he does a rolling stop onto Elm Street. His sister the sheriff wouldn’t appreciate his lack of respect for the stop sign.

  The streets are quiet so I ease onto my brake, slowing enough to give him plenty of room. The farther he gets from town, the more opportunities I have to eliminate him. My pulse echoes in my ears and I inhale deeply, forcing my body to navigate the adrenaline rush.

  At the corner, I peer to my right where Kingston pulls into a parking lot. The Forever Home animal shelter. From what I’ve gathered, this is his favorite of the places he provides support for.

  He never visits with the animals. Only drops off supplies.

  Do-gooder.

  Collateral damage.

  I let out a sigh and turn left. Killing a man in front of an animal shelter is beneath me. Even I can see that.

  Way Kingston has earned himself another day.

  For now.

  11

  Family dinners, to Roni, meant keeping her mouth shut and clearing her plate. That’s how it worked in the foster system. You were thankful for the sl
op on your plate because the alternative, being on the street and turning tricks for meals, wasn’t a good option.

  That changed in college when a friend had invited her over and she’d been comfortable enough to become a regular.

  All those dinners prepared her socially to the point where she no longer feared family gatherings. Even when it wasn’t her family.

  When Maggie had called two hours ago to invite Roni to her parents’ for the evening, Roni knew enough to expect good company and an even better meal.

  Now, she rode shotgun as Maggie swung into the driveway of a large farmhouse that lit up a dark sky. Porch and interior lighting offered a nonverbal welcome and Roni rested her head back, mourning the loss of her own childhood home.

  Someday, she’d have a place like that again.

  Maggie parked behind a black Range Rover and pointed.

  “Jay is here. You’ll get to meet him finally. Roni, I swear, he’s so hot I go up in flames every time he looks at me.”

  Maggie. Had to love her honesty. “I guess that makes you a lucky girl.”

  “It sure does.” She pushed the engine button and scooped her keys from the center console. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

  Of course she had. Any extra time spent with Way would only help her cause. And looking at the man certainly never hurt. Where she stood with this case, she couldn’t quite figure. They’d spent the morning tearing apart notes, comparing facts, and building timelines. They’d wound up with a lack of aha moments, but after reviewing all that evidence, she had no doubt the shootings were connected by Way’s bullet design.

  Either that, or someone had gotten really lucky and designed the same frangible ammo.

  Which she doubted.

  All she knew was that when she checked in with Karl an hour ago, she’d left out the part about spending the morning sharing notes with Way and visiting Chad Hopkins’s brother.

  Maggie slid out of the vehicle and they strode along the brick-paved walk to the front door. “Be warned, my family is a little nuts.”

  “Ha. I grew up in the system. They can’t be any more nuts than what I’ve seen.”

  “True. Just to be clear, they’re not dysfunctional nuts. They’re wacky. These dinners get so competitive, it’s frightening. No one dares bring subpar food. Way is the unpredictable one. We never know what he’ll whip up.”

  “Really?”

  “He inherited my father’s palate. I swear, they put together the kookiest ingredients and somehow it’s always fantastic. He drives me insane.”

  Good looking, smart, and balls of steel. On paper, he might be Roni’s perfect mate.

  Another place, another time.

  As they walked, Roni leaned sideways, bumping Mags. “He’s your brother. From what I’ve heard, they’re supposed to be challenging. He seems…nice.”

  Maggie nodded. “He’s a good guy. An enigma.” She laughed. “I’m always trying to get inside his head and he never lets me.” She paused at the base of the porch and set one hand on the white railing that gleamed under the porch light. “I’ll tell you, though, I’m a little jealous of his life. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “I saw his motorcycle earlier.”

  “Yep. He’ll take off on that thing for weeks at a time.”

  “Weeks?”

  “Thus, why I’m jealous.”

  The front door opened. In the doorway stood a tall man with dark blond hair and a close-cropped beard. Even without the chiseled muscles hiding under a long-sleeved pullover, Roni recognized the famous Jayson Tucker. The man’s face had been on just about every gossip magazine circulating. Roni had only ever seen him on television or in photos, and she dared say the man was better looking in person.

  And way more formidable.

  “My girl,” he said, smiling at Maggie. “You’re late.”

  “I know.”

  She climbed the stairs and hit Jayson with a liplock that fired Roni’s cheeks. Her? Embarrassed? Since when?

  Maybe since she’d been lusting over Maggie’s brother.

  Maggie broke away from the kiss and leaned into Jay, resting her head on his chest in a gesture so soft and sweet a piece of Roni’s rock-hard heart broke off. Would she ever experience that bond? That deep-seated, unconditional love?

  If she got lucky—and found a way to lighten up—she would. In her own defense, after her father, her opportunities to love and be loved always came with conditions. For years, fear and mistrust left her wary of opening up. And all that baggage made it easy to sabotage relationships.

  “Roni, this is Jay. The absolute love of my life.”

  Jay flashed a movie-star smile and kissed the top of Maggie’s head.

  “Lord,” Roni said, “you guys really do want me to die of envy.”

  She climbed the porch stairs and stepped inside, holding her hand out to Jay. “It’s great to finally meet you. Maggie talks about you all the time. It’s just too damned bad you don’t have a brother.”

  “Yeah, sorry. It’s just me and Sam.”

  “Mags?” A man yelled from inside. “Hurry up!”

  Jay jerked his chin. “Cash skipped lunch. Major crab so far. Plus, he made a cheese appetizer that won’t hold up if not eaten at the perfect temperature.”

  “Good. Then we’ll stall.”

  At that, Roni snorted. “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “Remind me to tell you about his overuse of bacon. Then we’ll talk cheating.”

  “And let’s not forget the time he had Micki hack into my security system and spy on us to make sure I wasn’t doing the cooking.”

  Roni gawked. “No way.”

  Maggie let out a low whistle. “I have never seen Jay so mad. I seriously thought he’d kill my brother.”

  Jay laughed and shook his head. “Competition is one thing. Invading my privacy is another. He’s lucky I understand motivated competitors.”

  “God,” Roni said. “He’s sweet, rich, and he cooks. Someone shoot me.”

  At that, Maggie let out a laugh. “You’re too funny.”

  “Finally!” The same male voice thundered the second Maggie stepped into the kitchen. “She’s here. Everybody dig in. Use the pumpernickel for dipping. This is freaking amazing.”

  “Hang on,” Maggie said, clearly intent on stalling. “Before you start stuffing your faces, I brought a guest. This is my friend Roni.”

  Maggie stepped sideways and gave Roni the full view of a large kitchen filled with—one, two, three—eight people. All of whose hands stopped midway to a plate of sliced bread while a chorus of “Hi, Roni” sounded.

  Two dogs, one of which looked to be a retriever puppy, scrambled toward her, leaping at her feet. The border collie stood back and eyeballed the scene.

  “Off, Charley,” Maggie said. “Nicksie, go. Beat it.”

  An older woman, light-haired and wearing jeans and a periwinkle cashmere sweater, approached. She held out her hand. “I’m Sandy, Margaret’s mother. Welcome to our home.”

  Roni shook her hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Margaret, do the introductions while I get your dad. He’s getting the fire pit ready. We thought we’d have dessert outside.”

  Dessert around the fire pit. They really were a modern day Brady Bunch.

  As instructed, Maggie handled introductions while Roni noted different characteristics of each family member. Riley with the funky glasses. Cash with the big shoulders. Coen with the crystal green eyes.

  As a kid moving from foster home to foster home, the trick had served her in helping to remember names.

  Rising from the table, a man with shaggy brown hair nodded. The golden retriever at his feet peered up at Roni with soft brown eyes and she instantly wanted to curl into him.

  “Hello,” the shaggy-haired guy said. “Your tank top is very tight. I like it.”

  A round of sighs filled the room and heat swarmed Roni’s cheeks as she fought the urge to button her over shirt.

  “Sh
ep!” A horrified Maggie turned to Roni. “This is my brother, Shep. I should have warned you about his lack of filter.”

  Across the kitchen, Way leaned against the counter and shook his head while his gaze locked on hers. If she wasn’t mistaken, Shep wasn’t the only one who appreciated her tank top.

  “Joss is gone one day,” Way said, “and already he’s flirting. Well, Shep-style flirting, anyway.”

  Shep’s mouth dipped to a frown and the look in his eyes, that glassy veil of confusion, nearly broke Roni’s heart.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I—”

  Roni held up her hand. “No apology necessary. Thank you for the compliment.”

  Clearly approving her response, Way nodded. “Nice. Now eat before you miss out on this supposedly spectacular cheese concoction.”

  “Call it whatever you want,” Cash said. “I’m winning this time.”

  Roni moved farther into the room, joining Way by the counter just as Mrs. Kingston returned from outside.

  “Way,” Maggie said, “what’d you bring tonight?”

  “Oddly enough, I went with a cheese dish as well. Reggiano hashbrowns.”

  “Bastard,” Maggie muttered.

  “Margaret!”

  Eyes wide, she turned to Jay. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “Sure did, babe,” he said.

  Maggie held up two hands. “Sorry, Mom. But I’m going to reiterate my request to handicap this event. Way is better than all of us in the kitchen. If I can’t use Jay for help, we should somehow limit Way.”

  Wow. These people didn’t mess around when it came to food.

  Way leaned right, bumping Roni’s shoulder. “She’s mad because the only time she won is when Jay cooked. We busted her.”

  “That may have been the best rack of lamb I ever made,” Jay said.

  Riley dug a fresh slice of pumpernickel into the cheese dip. “That’s how we knew she didn’t cook it.”

  At that, everyone—including Maggie—broke out in laughter. This was family. Good-hearted teasing and all.

  The kitchen door opened once again and in stepped an older man. “Hello.” He held his hand out. “I’m Ross Kingston. Welcome.”