True as that was, his two friends weren’t going to be keeping him company tonight. Matt was back in Santa Barbara and probably still angry; Lana was recovering from surgery because of him.
Maybe it was time to put all the cards on the table. “Look, you don’t have to pretend to like me.”
Reilly arched an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”
“After what I did? Are you kidding?”
A pointed look landed on the blood caked on Nate’s clothes. “What you did was try to save my sister’s life.”
“It’s my fault she’s here. That guy was aiming for me.”
“From what Branden said, that guy was after her long before you showed up.”
“But she was shot pushing me out of the way.”
“She got shot saving me, too. It’s who she is.”
“I get why she’d save you, but why me? I’m not some good guy who deserves it. She knows that. Why would she save someone–” He clamped his lips shut before he could say something he’d regret.
A grin slid across Reilly’s face. “You know what, my friend? You just witnessed the love of God.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I’m talking about a cross on a hill two thousand years ago. When Jesus took what we deserved by dying in our place. What you saw in Lana today is a dim shadow of what God did for you, for her, for all of us.”
Huh. He’d never heard it explained like that before.
More than that, he’d never had such a clear visual before now. Could there be something to this whole Jesus thing?
But if there was, shouldn’t God have done something to keep this from happening in the first place?
A ding echoed in the room.
Reilly pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Looks like there’s another update. Sure you don’t want to join us?”
Much as he’d love to hear the latest, he shook his head. “Thanks anyway.”
“Okay. Well, if you change your mind, we’re just down the hall.”
Reilly was almost out of the room when Nate spoke the words that burned in his throat. “Thanks. For everything.”
Vague as it was, Reilly seemed to understand. He nodded. “Stick around. I know Lana will want to see you.”
If only that was true. He nodded.
Exhaustion drowned him. A glance at his watch showed it was almost midnight.
He looked down at the blood on his clothes. Maybe he could use it to his advantage. Get the nurses to update him on Lana’s condition. Then he could go back to his motel, change out of these clothes, and collapse into bed.
Changing out of the clothes might erase the visual reminder, but he had a feeling that the images burned in his memory, not to mention the guilt, would be much harder to banish.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
Lana tried to find the strength to reach for her Bible, but her muscles felt like water.
Had it really been a day and a half since the shooting? That’s what the nurses had told her. And her family. They all claimed she’d slept a whole day away.
Pain killers made her brain fuzzy and her eyes heavy, but she was tired of sleeping. Actually, she was tired of being tired. When would she regain some of her energy?
It’d taken some doing, but she’d finally convinced her family – all of them – to leave and grab some dinner. No doubt they’d return soon, and in force, but for now she had time to think. Time to decide what to do about Nate.
Stevens. Not Nate. How could she have been so stupid?
She’d have to turn him in. What other choice did she have? He was a killer without conscience and she had sworn to uphold justice.
But the weird thing was that she’d witnessed evidence of a conscience in him.
Sleep threatened a hostile takeover. Her eyes slid closed.
Squeak.
She recognized the sound of sneakers on tile. Probably a nurse. With more medication, no doubt. Would they leave her alone if she pretended to be asleep?
Doubtful.
It took almost all her reserves of strength to turn her head.
Standing inside the doorway, looking like he couldn’t decide whether to enter or run, stood Nate.
In spite of her exhaustion, she managed a smile.
“Nate.” Her voice scratched from an impossibly dry throat. The water glass on the table beside her bed called her, but she lacked the ambition to reach for it.
He crossed the room, holding a vase with a large tropical arrangement in front of him. “How are you?”
“Thirsty.” The word escaped before she’d thought it through or could stop it.
He blinked, his gaze shifting to the water glass. “Oh. Let me set this down.”
The large display overshadowed the other flowers on the shelf opposite her bed.
Picking up the glass, he maneuvered it to her waiting hand. After taking a few sips through the white bendy straw, she offered the glass back to him.
Could he really be Stevens? Looking at him now, it seemed so impossible.
Maybe none of that had really happened.
But she knew better, didn’t she?
Before she’d been shot, he’d been trying to tell her something. He deserved to be heard out.
She leaned her head back. “Back in the parking lot, before Young… what were you trying to say?”
“I’m not Stevens.” He dropped heavily into the chair beside her bed. “You have to believe me. I’m not.”
As much as she wanted to believe him, too many things didn’t add up. “You called me.”
“I had to warn you, but I didn’t know how else to get through to you. So I pretended to be him.”
This didn’t make sense. “How did you even know? About Stevens, any of it?”
He hesitated. A moment too long. “I, uh, I know him.”
The pieces clicked into place. “Matt.”
“He’s not a bad guy. Just had some rough breaks.”
“He’s a killer. And you’re an accomplice.”
“No. I swear I had nothing to do with killing.”
“But you knew what he was doing. In the law’s eyes, that makes you an accomplice.”
He slumped back in the chair. “I told myself that his targets were bad people. Drug dealers, gang bangers, murderers, rapists. People who deserved to die. I convinced myself he was doing what the cops couldn’t. Like a vigilante.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t understand.” Suspicious dampness glistened in his eyes. “Growing up, Matt did everything for me. He protected me when no one else would. I owe him.”
She didn’t know what to say.
After all, he was right. She didn’t know what it had been like for him growing up. The constant abuse and bullying. How much of that Matt had absorbed for him.
But that didn’t excuse the things Stevens had done.
Or relieve her of her responsibility to turn them both in.
To what end? They’d never confess. And Stevens had always covered his tracks well enough that there wouldn’t be any evidence to solidly tie either of them to any crimes.
It would be her word against theirs.
Her energy lagged.
Arresting him would have to wait. She couldn’t even move, much less call the police or put him in cuffs. Not that she wanted to do either.
“Why’d you save me? You thought I was a killer and you still pushed me out of the way.”
“You’re not ready to die.”
“And you are? You’ve got more reasons to live than I do.”
Man, was she tired. But this was important. She had to stay focused long enough to share the truth. “If I die, I wake up in heaven. Can you say the same?”
After studying her silently for several heartbeats, he pushed himself to his feet. “You’re beat. I should leave.”
No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she didn’t have the energy to continue. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stay awake.”
“Don’t sweat it. Just get better.”
Fading fast. But she couldn’t let him leave on that note. “Maybe we can continue this later.”
“Maybe.” He paused at the doorway and turned back to her. “Thanks. I’ll never forget what you did for me.”
Something about his words felt very final, but she didn’t have the energy to figure it out. Her brain screamed at her to stop him from leaving, even as her eyes drifted closed.
Twenty-Seven
Ginger Rosetti poured herself another glass of wine. So what if she’d already had three glasses. She might as well enjoy it while she could.
That imbecile Freddie Young had taken her name and phone number with him when he’d gone after Tanner’s sister. The FBI had already questioned her once; it was only a matter of time before they returned to arrest her.
She was pretty sure they were outside now. Probably waiting for her to do something ridiculous like flee the country or open fire in a crowded place.
Well, they could watch all they wanted. There wasn’t a thing they could do to stop her.
A scream slashed her throat as she flung her glass with all her strength. The glass shattered against the wall, the wine streaking the white paint like blood. Crystal rained on the thick carpet, sparkling in the dark red wine as the liquid soaked in, no doubt creating a stain that would never come out.
Who cared? After today, it’d be someone else’s problem.
She snatched another of the exquisitely cut glasses from the wet bar and filled it almost to the brim. Self-control was a joke, especially on a day like today.
“Ginger?”
Wine sloshed over her hand and onto the highly polished cherry wood bar as she started. Slamming the bottle next to the puddle, she cursed and tried to shake the excess liquid from her hand.
“Everything okay?” Joe Wolfe, a man whose intense blue eyes lived up to his name, stood in the doorway.
Taking everything in, no doubt.
Dang it. She’d forgotten he was here.
Regardless of the fact that he’d lost Al’s case, he was still one of the best defense attorneys in town. Not to mention an old friend. She’d called him as soon as the FBI left.
“Ginger?” he repeated, his tone gentler.
“Why wouldn’t everything be okay? My husband’s been arrested, the FBI’s parked outside my house, and I’m being fingered for the attempted murder of a US Marshal. Things have never been better.”
“I heard… never mind.” The thick carpet muffled his footsteps as he crossed to stand in front of her. He took the wine glass from her fingers and set it further down the bar. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“No! I’ve not had enough. If I’m going to prison, I might as well enjoy myself before I go.”
“No one’s going to prison. So Young had your name and number. Big deal. You said yourself that he decided to go after her on his own. No money exchanged hands. We’ll beat this thing, no problem.”
“Didn’t you say same thing about Al?”
His lips tightened into a thin line. “Al’s case was different. Lots of evidence, plus a long history of allegations.”
Silence descended. Suddenly she didn’t feel so hot. She pulled out one of the padded bar stools and sat heavily, leaning her back against the bar.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Joe’s voice broke the stillness.
“Not unless you can get Frank out of prison.”
“Give me time. By the time this thing goes to trial, I’ll have more than enough to create reasonable doubt.”
Right. She’d believe that when it happened.
“Can I call someone for you? A friend, family?”
Ginger shook her head. “I want to be alone.”
Warm fingers captured her chin as he took a step closer. “That include me? I’ll stay.”
The tender smile he flashed at her left no room for speculation. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “And what’d you tell your wife?”
“I always think of something.”
His sky colored eyes, which usually looked as hard as gemstones, now invited her in. Made her want to say yes. Forget the past and ignore tomorrow.
But he’d led her down this road before.
“You should go.”
Instead of leaving, he came closer. Placed large hands on the bar on either side of her and leaned down to look into her eyes. “I’m worried about you. I’ve never seen you drink more than one glass and here I come in to find you drunk.”
“I’m hardly drunk.” Yet. If he only knew her plans, he’d have good reason to be concerned. She looked away.
He traced a finger down her shoulder. “Don’t know why I ever let you go.”
“You didn’t let me go.” Knocking his hand away, she jerked to her feet and pushed him aside. She took two steps then whirled to face him. “You made your choice, remember?”
Sure, he’d had fun fooling around with her, but at the end of the day, she wasn’t the one to whom he’d wanted to come home. It’d all worked out okay, though. She’d met Al through him, and Al had introduced her to Frank.
He slowly straightened. “Okay, I’ll go. Promise me you’ll put the alcohol away. And that you won’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“Of course. Go on home to your wife and don’t worry about me.”
“Okay.” Skepticism in his eyes told her he didn’t believe her; however he had no choice but to take her at her word. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t worry. We will get you out of this.”
She forced a smile that felt as artificial as her innocence. “Tomorrow.”
“I’ll stop by in the morning on my way to meet with Frank.” Ah, the courtroom voice. The one that inspired confidence and made people want to agree. If she didn’t know him so well, it might’ve worked. “In the meantime, if you need anything, I want you to give me a call. You have my cell, right?”
“On speed dial.”
He crossed the room, pausing on the threshold. “Anything else I can do before I go?”
Actually, now that he mentioned it…
She plucked an embossed cream envelope off an end table. “Maybe give this to Frank when you see him tomorrow?”
A pause. For effect, no doubt.
He stared at the envelope, lifted his gaze to hers. “This a goodbye letter?”
It was, but she’d never tell him that. “If you’re going to get him off, why would I need to say goodbye?”
No response. Not an agreement, a question, an argument.
The fear in his eyes almost shattered her resolve.
Her throat felt seared from the tears she worked so hard to contain. “It’s an explanation. If I’m arrested in a day or two, I might not be able to communicate with him for a while. I want him to understand why.”
After several more seconds, he slowly nodded. “I’ll see that he gets it. Now you aren’t planning anything rash, are you?”
“I’m not suicidal. Besides, I’ve always trusted you.”
That last part was true, anyway.
With a nod, he started down the hallway. As he approached the front door, she halted him. “Joe, thanks. You’ve always been a good friend. To me and Frank.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said the words with determination, as if he could make it happen by sheer force of will.
But he knew. She could hear it in his voice.
Tears swirled his suit into a navy blue blur as he stepped into the sunshine and softly closed the door behind him.
Time might be short. He might get to his car and decide he had to stop her. Maybe even call 911 before she had a chance to do what she needed to do. She rushed to the front door, locked the knob and the deadbolt and slid the chain in place.
Retrieving the wine glass and the bottle, she hurried upstairs to her bedroom and sank onto the edge of her bed.
A slight tremor afflicted her hand as she opened the drawer and removed a bottle of pills. Just days old, the prescription
had been written by her doctor to help her sleep.
So the FBI thought they could keep her here by camping across the street, did they? She’d show them. No one could make her do what she didn’t want to do. Soon they’d learn that she alone decided her destiny.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
“You sure you don’t need help unpacking? Or making dinner? I can hang out for a while.”
Patience.
Lana tried her hardest, but after dealing with airports and spending hours on a plane back to Florida, patience was in short supply. If Reilly didn’t back off soon, she might have to pull her gun. “Will you stop already? I’m not an invalid.”
“I never said you were. But the doctor said to take it easy and I know you.”
“You already put my suitcase in my room, so all I have to do is unzip it and take things out. For dinner, I’ll order a pizza or something. Seriously. How much trouble can I get into?”
He arched an eyebrow. “You really want me to answer that?”
Probably safer if he didn’t.
Just like it was better if she didn’t tell him that she wasn’t hungry. That would certainly earn her a lecture. “I’ll call you if I need anything, okay?”
“You better. I don’t care what time it is, I’ll be here.”
He headed for the door and stepped out into the early evening sun. After giving a small wave, she locked the door behind him.
Unpacking took very little time, but depleted her energy reserves.
Not that she’d had much left after a day of travel. Man. How long would it take for her to feel normal again?
At least she was in her own home. Everyone in her family had pressured her to stay with someone, but she’d finally convinced them she could handle things on her own. She didn’t need as much help as they all obviously thought she did.
She’d just stowed the suitcase in the closet when her doorbell rang.
What the…? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Had Reilly returned?
It’d be just like him to circle back to make sure she was doing okay. If he thought he was going to check on her every hour, he had a tough reality check coming. Older or not, he needed to give her some space.
Normally, stretching up to look through the peep-hole wasn’t a big deal. Today was another story. She stood to the side of the door. “Who is it?”
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