GAGE BUTLER'S RECKONING

by Justine Davis

  "Hello…"

  She said it tentatively, and he had the distinct impression she'd stopped there because she couldn't decide what to call him. The best he could hope for was Butler, he supposed. The worst… Well, she would have to go some to top what she'd said the other night. But he supposed she could.

  "About the other night," she began, then paused.

  "Don't start in on me again," he said. "I don't need it."

  "I was angry—"

  "No kidding," he said, cutting her off. "And over something that should be ancient history. Tell me, do you hold a grudge over every little thing that long?"

  He saw color tint her cheeks. "It wasn't a little thing to me."

  He thought of all the kids he'd tried to save but had lost, kids who lost the battle to stay safe and alive in a world that seemed to have no place for them. Kids who had faced abuses of the worst kind, who had battled drugs, violence and the betrayal of those who should have loved them the most. Kids to whom a street shooting was a little thing, because it happened every day.

  "I'll bet it wasn't," he said, unable to stop himself. "I'll bet it was the worst thing you've ever had to deal with in your entire sheltered life. But you'll have to excuse me if I don't have much sympathy or patience with your idea of tragedy. Grow up … Miss Templeton."

  Her eyes widened, and the blush faded as she went strangely pale. He was surprised at the apparent depth of the nerve he'd struck. For an instant he felt guilty, but the memory of her verbal attack on him assuaged it quickly. If she couldn't take it, maybe she should think twice about dishing it out.

  After a visible effort to shake off her reaction, she said very coldly, "I know quite enough of tragedy, thank you. I buried my sister six months ago, after her car was demolished by a truckload of drunken, stoned kids."

  Her sister Lisa was my best friend in school. She … couldn't be here, so Laurey came … in her place.

  Caitlin's words came back to him, and he felt a chill sweep through him. God, he hadn't known. No wonder she'd broken up when Elena had spoken of dying too young.

  "I didn't—"

  She cut off his apology as quickly as he'd earlier cut her off. "And I deal with it every week at the youth rehabilitation center I volunteer at." The look she gave him then was icy.

  "I started that job to help keep kids from getting busted by sneaky cops."

  He let out a weary breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know about your sister. Caitlin only told me you came because your sister … couldn't."

  She looked away, and he saw her blinking rapidly. It was obviously still very close to the surface for her.

  "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I … know how you feel."

  "Oh, sure you do," she muttered, starting to turn away from him.

  "I do," he said, surprising himself. "I … lost a sister, too." She glanced back at him then, a startled look in her eyes. She didn't speak, as if waiting for him to elaborate. He wouldn't—he couldn't—and he wished he'd never said the words he so rarely did. He couldn't quite believe that he had. It was something he usually kept buried deep, so very deep…

  He shook his head sharply. "I didn't mean to … probe a raw wound," he said rather lamely.

  Still she didn't speak, and he supposed he'd managed to make her hate him even more. And once again he hated the fact that that mattered to him.

  "You'd better get inside," he said brusquely, ignoring the odd hollowness he was feeling. "Caitlin may be a miracle worker around here, but this still isn't any neighborhood to be standing out on the street."

  She gave him an odd look that was strangely intent, then nodded sharply and began walking toward the Neutral Zone's front door. He watched until she reached it safely, a habit so long ingrained he doubted he would ever break it. After she'd pulled it open, she glanced back over her shoulder toward him. He quickly got into the driver's seat and started the coupe, wanting to get away from here and the fiasco that seemed to occur every time he encountered Laurey Templeton.

  He pulled away from the curb, ordering himself not to look in his mirror to see if she were still standing there.

  He drove down Trinity Street East

  , thinking he would take it all the way until it turned to West, then turn off at—

  Something caught the edge of his vision, and he looked to his left, toward the alley he was passing. He had a couple of seconds to register that the van was brown and had no front license plate before it hit him.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  She'd meant to apologize to him, Laurey thought as she glanced into the bustling Neutral Zone. She really had. She'd meant to apologize for what she'd finally had to admit was true, exactly what he'd just said, that it should have been ancient history. She wasn't quite sure how she would have explained it without confessing to her silly crush on him all those years ago, but—

  The sound of an impact and the screech of tires froze her fingers on the doorknob, stopped her foot in the act of stepping inside. She jerked around and saw a bulky dark van careening down the street, listing as if it had blown a tire. The car it had obviously hit sat at an angle in the street, the driver's side ominously crumpled.

  She recognized the car. She had just been standing next to it, remembering that Caitlin had told her Gage drove the old, beat-up coupe because he spent too much of his own money helping people to buy a new car. Without another thought she began to run toward it, vaguely aware of shouts as someone near the grocery store on the corner yelled that they had called for an ambulance. There were a few kids on the street, but they were watching warily, apparently not moved to help. She nearly skidded and went down when her booted feet hit a puddle of some liquid leaking from the car, as if it were bleeding.

  Her heart was pounding; she'd seen pictures of her sister's accident, and the very sight of a crumpled car made her ill. But something kept her there, and she held her breath as she peered through the window. The safety glass was shattered, making it difficult to see, especially in the darkness of this neighborhood, where as many street lamps were shot out as were intact. But she thought she saw the sheen of light on blond hair, oddly, on the passenger side.

  Quickly she ran to the other side of the car; there had been no hope of opening the driver's door anyway. But she was able to yank open the passenger door easily and saw that Gage was sprawled sideways, his head and shoulders in the passenger seat, his torso bent awkwardly across the center console, his legs still on the driver's side. She would have thought he'd been thrown there were it not for the seat belt that was still tangled around his legs.

  She sucked in a breath, then made herself reach out, terrified of what she would find. She hadn't been at the scene of her sister's death, but in the nightmares that had plagued her for weeks afterward, she had seen every grim detail. Every bloody, awful, grim detail. And she was afraid she knew, from those gory images, what she would find now.

  Before her trembling fingers could touch him, he groaned. Then moved.

  Her breath escaped her in a rush; he was alive. She nearly wept her relief; she might not like Gage Butler, but she would never wish such a thing on him. Not after Lisa. If someone had been there for her…

  "Gage," she said, aware that his name felt strange on her tongue even as she decided that calling him anything else at this time would be colder than she could manage. He was hurt and needed help, and this was no time to be detached.

  He shifted so that he could turn his head and look up. He seemed to see her, his brows lowered, and he said quietly, almost wonderingly, "Laurey?"

  "Help is coming," she said. "I heard somebody say they'd called an ambulance"

  He moved sharply then, raising himself up on one elbow. "The van…"

  "I saw it. It kept going—" she gestured down the street "—that way."

  She saw the sudden change in him, alertness pushing aside the dazed look he'd had. The quickness of his recovery amazed her. "Did you call it in?"

  "Someb
ody already called an ambulance," she repeated, thinking he'd been too shaken to take it in the first time she'd said it.

  "Not that, the hit-and-run. The van description. Did you give them that?"

  "No," she said, a little bewildered. "Someone else called. I thought I should—"

  "Damn," he muttered, and began to twist around until he was almost sitting up.

  Laurey heard rapid footsteps approaching from the direction of the corner grocery but didn't look toward them. "I'm sorry," she said, an edge creeping into her voice now that she saw he obviously wasn't seriously injured. "I thought you might be hurt and that that was more important."

  He had the grace to look chagrined. "That wasn't aimed at you. Just … the situation."

  "The paramedics are on the way."

  The breathless words came from behind Laurey, and she turned to see a small man with a fringe of gray hair edging his bald pate. He was the one she'd heard shouting, she realized as he bent over to peer into the car.

  "Are you all— Gage?" the man interrupted himself in startled recognition. "Oh, no, I did not know it was you! Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, Mr. Cordero. Just a little rattled."

  "But you are bleeding."

  Laurey's breath caught. He was? She hadn't seen any blood. She crouched back down to look again at Gage. He was gingerly touching his neck, where now she could see a dark rivulet staining the collar of his shirt.

  "Just a little flying glass, I think," he told the old man reassuringly. "Thanks for calling it in, but I don't need the paramedics."

  "They should check you," the man said sternly. "You will sit here and wait."

  "Yes, sir," Gage said, so meekly Laurey couldn't help smiling.

  "I told them to look for that maniac in the van. I did not see the license, though," the man said regretfully.

  "Didn't have one," Gage said, wincing as he pulled himself totally upright. "At least, not in front. No make, either."

  Even the old man had thought that way, Laurey mused. Just like Gage, one of his first thoughts had been to catch the bad guy. Perhaps she was the one who was out of step here, putting his welfare above catching the hit-and-run driver, she thought wryly. It seemed that her attempt to help hadn't been much help at all.

  She heard the wail of sirens approaching. Gage grimaced. "I don't need anybody code three," he muttered.

  "I'll go get Caitlin," she said, beginning to straighten up, thinking that having a good friend around would be more help than her own presence.

  "No," Gage said quickly. She stopped, looking down at him questioningly. "We're a couple of blocks away, and with the noise level in there, they probably didn't hear anything. Let it go."

  "But she—"

  "She'd be upset. She worries about her friends. And she doesn't need any extra stress right now, not when she's pregnant."

  "You are right," Mr. Cordero said, nodding approvingly. "A woman and her child should be protected at this time."

  "But she'll find out anyway, won't she?" Laurey asked.

  "I'll have Quisto tell her. Tomorrow, maybe. So long after the fact that it will be pointless for her to get upset."

  She found it oddly touching that he was so concerned. And Caitlin did worry about her friends. She worried a lot. So perhaps she was right and it would be better if she didn't see him now.

  "I will go flag down the paramedics," Mr. Cordero said as the sirens neared, and he strode off with a briskness that belied his apparent age.

  "She'll want to talk to you personally, you know," Laurey said, remembering how Caitlin had insisted on talking to her every time she'd called her parents' house after the funeral, to hear for herself that Laurey was hanging on in those dark days. Laurey had never forgotten how, in the midst of her own pain and at a time when she was just beginning her marriage, Caitlin had never forgotten the others who had loved Lisa.

  Gage nodded. "I'll stop by and see her tomorrow." He grimaced then, shifting with obvious discomfort. "Or maybe call. I have a feeling I'm going to turn some interesting colors by morning."

  "At least you'll be here to do it," she said.

  He looked up at her, and she saw a dark swelling over his right temple where one of those bruises he'd mentioned would no doubt appear.

  "Wishing you could trade?" he asked.

  There was no mistaking his implication, and color flooded her cheeks.

  "No!" she exclaimed, horrified that he could believe she would think that. Not that she wouldn't trade just about anything to have Lisa back, but she would never wish death on anyone else to do it.

  "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing at his head in a way that told her he must be hurting pretty badly. "That was a cheap shot."

  She steadied herself. "You're entitled, at the moment," she said, glancing over the damage. "When I saw the car, I thought you were going to be…"

  Her voice trailed away; she was unable to say it. And then the paramedics were there, and a bustle of activity began. One of the assisting firefighters ran a flashlight over the driver's side of the car and let out a low whistle.

  "Boy, if I didn't see you sitting there talking, Butler, I wouldn't believe it. Why the heck aren't you dead?"

  Laurey fought the chill that came over her at the grim joke. Apparently gallows humor extended to the fire department, as well. She supposed it was as necessary for one as for the other.

  "Too stubborn, I guess," Gage quipped back.

  "Yeah, well, if you were a cat, you'd be down to about three lives on this alone," the man returned. "What happened?"

  Gage gestured toward the alley. "Van came out of there. Never stopped. But I saw him in time to dive for the passenger side. Barely."

  "Good reflexes saved your ass, then," the paramedic poking at Gage's temple said.

  "Cops are looking for the van, but you know how that goes," the other medic said as she ran through the standard pulse, respiration and blood pressure checks.

  "Yeah, I do," Gage said, his tone a bit sour.

  At that moment a marked police unit pulled to a halt a few feet away. Laurey instinctively turned to look as the officer got out and scanned the wreckage, and an instant later she saw his gaze narrow sharply and saw rather than heard a low oath escape him. Only then did she realize that it was Quisto Romero. He took off at a run toward them, slowing only when he saw Gage sitting upright and obviously alive on the passenger seat of his ruined car. Gage looked up and saw who the officer was, and his mouth twisted into a wry grimace.

  "I heard the location come out on the air, so I came over," Quisto said, "but I never expected it to be you." Concern showed in his darkly handsome face, and Laurey thought once again that even their wedding photos didn't do Quisto Romero justice.

  "Neither did I," Gage said, wincing as the paramedic pressed on one of those tender spots a bit too hard.

  Instinctively Laurey winced in turn and drew Quisto's sharp, dark-eyed gaze. "Laurey?"

  "Hi," she said, rather awkwardly.

  "She was the first one here," Gage said, then glanced at her. "Thank you for … checking on me."

  "Yes," Quisto agreed, his eyes never leaving her. "I know your instinct was probably to … avoid an accident scene."

  Laurey looked away swiftly, unable to deal with the gentle perceptiveness in his steady regard. As he pulled the handheld radio from his belt and notified Trinity West that it was one of their own, she tried to calm herself. It was to be expected, she supposed, that he would know. Caitlin would have told him. Lisa had been her best friend, and who else would she have turned to for comfort? Who else would she have shared the grim details with?

  "Damn."

  It was low and heartfelt, and Laurey looked up in surprise when she realized it had come from Gage.

  "I didn't think of that," he said to her softly. "After your sister…"

  Laurey jerked back. She didn't want him feeling sorry for her. Not him, of all people. Not the man who had—

  She broke off her own thoughts, a litt
le startled at how quickly she'd fallen back into blaming him for that ancient history. It had, apparently, become routine. And it seemed quite out of place now, when he was hurt, when he was looking at her with such gentle compassion.

  Compassion? Gage Butler? Rattled, she looked away from him, and found herself confronting Quisto's interested gaze. Finished with his broadcast, he shoved the radio back into its belt holder before he spoke.

  "How'd you end up here?"

  "Just passing by on my way to see Caitlin," she said quickly, glad for the diversion. Quisto drew back, a furrow creasing his brow, and she hastened to add, "She doesn't know." And then, because he deserved the credit for his thoughtfulness, she gestured at Gage. "He didn't want to upset her, so he wouldn't let me go get her. He said you could tell her later, when it seemed right."

  Quisto's gaze switched to Gage, who met his look steadily. There was an oddly tense moment as something almost electric passed between the two men. Then Quisto nodded.

  "Thank you, my friend," he said quietly.

  Gage smiled, nodded in turn, then shrugged, wincing as the movement clearly caused some pain. "I'd just as soon you kept it quiet at Trinity West, too. I don't really want everybody hovering."

  "I won't put out an all-points bulletin," Quisto agreed with a grin. "But I'll have to tell the chief. You know how he is when one of his people gets hurt."

  "Yeah. But … can you wait until I get through at the hospital? So it doesn't turn into … a big deal?"

  "If it doesn't, I'll wait," Quisto agreed.

  "Thanks," Gage said, wincing again as he inadvertently turned his head too sharply. Then he quickly changed the subject before Laurey could voice the suggestion that he shut up and go to the hospital. "Anything on the van?"

  "Not yet. Although," Quisto added, eyeing the mangled coupe, "with the amount of damage it must have, it may not be as hard to find as we thought. Did you get a look at the driver at all?"

  Gage began to shake his head, but stopped when the paramedic ordered him to be still. Another police unit arrived, this one marked Accident Investigator, and after the officer came over and satisfied himself that Gage was functional, he began to make notes on his metal clipboard.