by Jane Graves
Chapter 14
Renee lay in John’s arms, in complete and total awe of what she’d just experienced. She’d never felt such an assault on her emotions, never believed for one moment that making love could be anything like what they’d just shared. Lying here with him now, she could almost forget the awful situation she faced and pretend, just for a little while, that everything was absolutely normal in their lives, that they were free to explore just how far a relationship between them could go.
God, how she wanted that.
Maybe it would happen. He was going to help her. Already he’d discovered that the testimony of the robbery victim could be discredited. What other evidence could he discover that might lead a jury to find her innocent? She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly, feeling her worries slip away. With John on her side, she could almost allow herself to believe that everything was going to be all right.
She laid her hand against his chest and felt its rise and fall, soft and measured, and she wondered for a moment whether he’d fallen asleep.
“John?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“No. I’m not asleep.”
A long silence ensued. She felt a twinge of apprehension, then decided maybe he was just tired. She certainly was. What the walk out of that forest hadn’t taken out of her, making love with him had.
Then she realized how tense he seemed. Or angry. Or both.
She rose on one elbow and looked down at him. He closed his eyes and looked away.
Oh, God. She’d done something wrong. But what?
“John? What’s the matter?”
He didn’t respond. She felt a rush of panic. This was just what she’d been afraid of. Somehow she’d disappointed him.
All at once it was as if her rose-colored glasses had been ripped off, and she was looking at their lovemaking in an entirely different light. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. He’d given her so much, and she’d responded like some kind of self-centered nymphomaniac, giving him next to nothing in return.
“I’m sorry, John,” she said, feeling as if she were on the verge of tears. “It’ll be better next time. I promise.”
Instantly she knew she’d said the wrong thing. He’d never said there would be a next time. Maybe she’d made too much out of this. Maybe he had no intention—
“Better?” he asked, his voice incredulous.
“It’s like I told you. I-I don’t know what to do...you know, how to please a man. The way you touched me...I know I should have done something for you, but I just didn’t know—”
“Renee.”
She stopped and stared at him. He rested his palm against her face, stroking it with his thumb.
“It couldn’t have been any better, sweetheart. I enjoyed every minute of it, and I’d do it a thousand times more if I could.”
“Then what?”
He sighed softly, his hand falling away from her face. “You know there’s a chance I’ll never find enough evidence to help you.”
Renee closed her eyes. “Please don’t talk about that now. Please
“We have to.”
No. She didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to slap her hands over her ears and beg him to let at least this night pass without reminding her of the terrible situation that had brought them together. Just for tonight, she wanted to pretend—
“I just want to make sure you understand that the time will come when I’ve done all I can. You’ll have to turn yourself in and hope for the best. Are you going to be able to do that?”
All at once Renee realized she’d been deluding herself. She’d let herself assume that as long as John was on her side, everything was going to be okay, but now he sounded so unsure of things that she felt apprehensive all over again. All at once the cold, hard reality of the situation struck her—the reality she didn’t want to face: she could still end up in prison. If she turned herself in.
“I-I don’t know, John. If the time come… She exhaled, shaking her head. “I just don’t know.” Then she looked at him hopefully. “But I don’t think it’s going to come to that. We’ll find some evidence. I know we will. Maybe we’ll even find the person who did it. You say it’s not likely, but it’s possible, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I thought you were going to help me!”
“I am! But there’s only so much—”
“Don’t you understand? I can’t go to prison, John. I just can’t!”
“Are you telling me you’d run again?”
She swallowed hard, her voice coming out in a raspy whisper. “Are you telling me you’d stop me?”
As soon as she said the words, the air between them filled with tension, and silence stretched on endlessly as she waited for his denial. It never came. Instead, he turned and pulled the handcuffs off the nightstand.
At first her sex-numbed brain didn’t comprehend what was happening. Then all at once the fragile cocoon of warmth and safety she’d felt only moments before shattered into a million pieces.
She sat up suddenly. He reached for her wrist, but she yanked her arm away.
“After all this?” she shouted. “After everything that’s happened between us tonight, you’re handcuffing me back to the bed?”
“It’s for your own good.”
The betrayal cut right to Renee’s soul. “It’s because I told you about my juvenile record, isn’t it? Now you think I really did commit that robbery!”
“No. I don’t think that at all.”
“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t told you!”
“Listen to me, sweetheart. I know now just how scared you are of going to prison, and why you’re scared. I can’t say for sure you won’t run, not because you’re guilty, but because you’re afraid, but if you do, your life will be over. Do you understand that?”
“I’m not going to run! I swear I’m not!”
He took hold of her wrist.
“Don’t do this to me, John. Don’t do it!”
She tried to yank her wrist free, but he held it tightly.
“I trusted you!”
“You can still trust me.”
“Like hell I can!”
“Renee,” he said softly. “Please.”
She pulled hard against him, her teeth gritted. He merely held her in a persistent grip until she was forced to stop fighting him. The moment she relaxed, he pulled her arm over and snapped the cuff around her wrist. Tears burned behind her eyes.
“Damn you!”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if waiting for the insult to pass over him, then opened them again. “I just don’t want to wake up and find you gone.”
Then, to her surprise, he held up his own wrist and snapped the other cuff around it.
“Just stay with me tonight, Renee, and we’ll get through this somehow. I promise.”
I promise. Why was he making promises? Didn’t he know that the minute he reached for those handcuffs, she’d stopped believing a word he said? Stay with me. As if she had a choice in the matter?
He rested his head back down on the pillow. Still sitting up against the headboard, she yanked the covers up over her naked body and turned abruptly away from him.
“Renee,” he whispered. “Lie down.”
“Go to hell.”
A long silence passed between them. She didn’t look over at him, but she knew he was still awake. How could he do this to her?
“I know you don’t understand,” he murmured. “But I’m doing this because I care about you.”
“No. You’re doing this because you’re a cop who doesn’t believe people can change.”
“If that were true, you’d be on your way to jail right now.”
Renee fought her tears tenaciously, determined to show no more weakness in front of him. She’d bared her very soul to him, and clearly that meant nothing. Suddenly she felt as if they were a millio
n miles apart, when only a few moments ago she’d felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to a man before.
Finally she lay down, but only because sitting up all night wasn’t an option. He reached for her. She flinched and moved away to the extent the handcuffs would allow. He expelled a breath of frustration.
“Just trust me,” he whispered. “Please.”
“I did trust you, John. Right up to the time you snapped this cuff on my wrist.” She paused. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”
“Aren’t they ever going to leave?” Paula whispered to Tom as she pulled yet another plate of nachos out of the microwave. “I thought they were going home after the game. It’s nearly nine o’clock!”
Tom sighed. “Do you want me to say something to Steve?”
She knew Tom would do that, if it was what she really wanted. But as usual, guilt set in. Steve and Rhonda were about to drive her nuts, but he was Tom’s cousin. It was the one thing—the only thing—that she and Tom had ever disagreed about. She’d tried to be understanding, though, knowing that Steve was the only family Tom had.
Actually, Steve wasn’t so bad. It was his cheap blond bimbo who drove her nuts.
Paula sighed. “No. It’s okay. How much longer could they possibly stay, anyway?”
“Oh, look!” Rhonda squealed from the living room. “The Creature from the Black Lagoon is on! It’ll be so cool on the big-screen TV!”
Oh, God.
Paula had the sudden feeling that Steve and Rhonda were never going to leave her apartment, that they’d be here through the rest of eternity, flopping on her sofa, eating her food, and hogging her TV remote. Occasionally Rhonda would get up to head to the bathroom, where she’d blot that fire-red lipstick of hers with toilet paper and leave it lying on the counter, then envelop herself in a fog of that cheap perfume she wore. Then she’d come back out, flop onto the sofa, and start the process all over again.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “Do you think you can put up with them a little while longer?”
Paula sighed with resignation. “Sure. I love The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Really.”
Tom smiled. “You’re a really bad liar. But I love you for it.” She picked up the plateful of nachos and they went back into the living room.
Steve was sprawled out on the sofa beside Rhonda. He was almost as handsome as Tom, but not quite, his hair more sandy than blond, his features not as sharply defined. But when it came to personality, they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Steve was quiet and brooding, while Tom was upbeat and friendly. Still, Steve was a handsome man, who would have been even more handsome if not for the bruise on the side of his face, the laceration on his cheek, and the split lip. When Tom asked him how it had happened, he’d said he’d gotten smacked around trying to help break up yet another bar fight. Paula had wanted to scream. If he had any pride at all, he’d be working somewhere nice instead of in those disreputable clubs. Then again, if he had any pride at all, he’d be dating somebody besides Rhonda.
“Here you go,” Paula said, setting the plate down on the coffee table with a forced smile. “More nachos.”
Rhonda flicked her coarse, pseudo-blond hair over her shoulder and looked down at the plate, huffing with disgust. “Did you have to put beans on them this time?”
Paula stood very still. “I didn’t know you didn’t like beans.”
“Well, now you do.”
“Come on, Rhonda,” Steve said, his gaze never leaving the TV screen. “You’re too picky. Just eat the damned nachos.” She gave him a dramatic eye roll. “Fine. I’ll eat them.” She picked up a nacho, then proceeded to disengage every single bean from it, leaving them in a pile on the plate, before stuffing the half-naked nacho into her mouth.
Incensed, Paula turned around and went back into the kitchen, wondering if she’d be a bad hostess if she shoved every one of those beans up Rhonda’s nose.
Tom followed, holding up his palms. “I know. She’s a pain in the ass. But I think a lot of it is the withdrawal, you know? Steve says she’s going cold turkey. Once she gets off the stuff—”
“Gets off it? Are you kidding? She did a line of coke in my bathroom ten minutes ago!”
Tom slumped with resignation. “Okay. So maybe it’s the coke that makes her cranky.”
“Breathing makes her cranky!”
“Just try to tolerate her, okay? Steve will come to his senses pretty soon, and he’ll dump her. I know he will.”
Tom inched closer to Paula. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss that made her knees weak. Not only did she suddenly feel inclined to tolerate just about anything out of Rhonda, she was having a tough time even remembering who Rhonda was.
Tom nuzzled her neck, sending little shivers of delight racing down her spine. “Why don’t we continue this in the bedroom?”
“Now? With them still here?”
“They’ll barely notice we’re gone.”
He took Paula by the hand and led her back to the living room. “Hey, Steve. Paula and I are going to bed. You and Rhonda watch whatever you want to and lock up on your way out.”
Rhonda ignored him completely, still focused on her systematic nacho dismemberment. Steve merely grunted.
Tom led Paula by the hand into the bedroom. She closed the door behind them. “Why do I get the idea that they only love me for my big-screen TV?”
“Come on, Paula,” Tom said with a smile. “This isn’t like you. You always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Even sleazy, drug-addicted smart-asses like Rhonda.”
Paula couldn’t help smiling back. He was right. She’d always been one of those excessively optimistic people who tried to see the good in any situation. But lately, since Renee’s arrest, she’d had the feeling that maybe things didn’t always work out for the best.
“Do you remember how we used to watch the Rangers last summer?” she asked Tom. “You and me and Steve and Renee?”
“I remember.”
“I had this crazy idea that we’d all be together forever.” She sighed with regret. “I wish that had worked out. Not that I would have wanted Renee to stay with Steve, but—” Paula stopped short, then expelled a breath of frustration. “I’m sorry, Tom. I don’t mean to put Steve down, but—”
“It’s okay. I know Steve has his shortcomings. I’m just hoping someday he gets smart enough to find someone like Renee rather than someone like Rhonda.”
Paula sighed. “I miss Renee so much. Do you think she ever made it to New Orleans?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’ll call soon.”
“But she can never come home. She’s the closest thing I’ve got to a sister. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”
“Will you stop thinking about Renee? It only makes you crazy.”
Tom sat her down on the bed and grabbed his guitar from where it rested in the comer of her bedroom. She settled back against the pillows, sighing with pleasure as Tom sang for her. He had such a beautiful voice, and every time he shared it with her she felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She closed her eyes, letting the sound of his voice flow over her like a gentle tide on a deserted beach, washing away all her worries....
“Hey! You people wanna keep it down in there? We’re trying to watch a movie out here!”
Paula’s eyes sprang open. Rhonda. Shouting at the top of her coarse, vulgar lungs.
Tom’s fingers froze on the strings. Then he smiled at Paula, and in spite of Rhonda, or maybe because of her, they started to laugh. Tom set his guitar aside and took Paula by the hand, pulling her around until she fell onto her back on the mattress. They laughed harder, and then he was kissing her as only Tom could, and she wondered how she’d ever gotten through life without him.
From the living room, she heard the rumblings of The Creature from the Black Lagoon, laced with Rhonda’s theatrical squeals of fear.
“Hey!” Tom called out. “You wanna keep it down out there? We’re trying to have sex in here!
”
“Tom!” Paula said.
He gave her a wicked grin.
“You’re so bad.”
“Actually, no. I’m good. Very, very good. You want me to show you?”
And then he kissed her again, and she saw that he wasn’t exaggerating in the least. But as he started to make love to her, Paula felt the old doubts come creeping in again. No matter how good things were between them, Renee’s warnings were always in the back of her mind.
He cheats on you. Get a clue, will you?
Tom had always had a reasonable explanation in response to Renee’s accusations—a friend dropped by, or maybe some woman had come to the wrong apartment and was just leaving. And Paula believed him. She loved him. How could she not believe him?
When does he plan on paying back the money you’ve loaned him? Like, never?
Paula refused to think about that anymore. After all, hadn’t they talked about it just a few days ago? And what had Tom said?
I have this feeling I’m going to come into a little money pretty soon.
Paula didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, only that he hadn’t forgotten he owed her, and he had every intention of paying her back. And in the end, that was all that really mattered.
When Renee awoke the next morning, she felt disoriented, and it was a hazy moment before she remembered where she was. Then she turned and saw John. His head rested against the pillow, a stubble of a beard on his cheeks and chin, his dark hair sleep-mussed. She had a sudden, intense flash of how incredible things had been between them, how she’d felt things with him she’d never felt with anyone before.
Right before it had all fallen apart.
She looked at their wrists bound together by the cuffs, and she had to swallow hard and grit her teeth to keep from crying. How could he have done this to her? How could he have made love to her, then handcuffed her again, as if what they’d shared together had meant nothing?
Because he didn’t believe she was innocent. Oh, he said he did, and that this was for her own good, but when it came right down to it, telling him she had a juvenile record had changed the way he looked at her. For all she knew, she’d be in jail before the day was out.
