Flashback

by Cait London

  “How did you know that—? Kyle, did you go to see Shane?”

  “We talked,” Kyle stated briefly, “and don’t ask about what. Let’s just say that I didn’t sling a teapot with hot tea at him.”

  Rachel shook her head and walked with Kyle to a wooden lawn chair. She decided not to add fuel to Kyle’s dark temper by telling him about the drugged tea. “That wasn’t smart. You’re in no shape to do anything now, much less take on a man—he’s strong, Kyle. How did the interview go?”

  “Let’s stay on how you know that he’s so strong—dear. How do you?” When Rachel didn’t answer, Kyle’s lips tightened, his eyes narrowed. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I handled it.”

  “Not by yourself anymore—got that? This relationship thing we’ve got going—the one you told the police about—requires trust, not you leaping into dangerous situations without me at your side. If you’re leaping, you’d better let me know…. As for the investigation, I’m at the top—maybe the only name on the insurance guys’ list of arson suspects. By the way, I’ve turned in the handgun as missing in the fire. There’s no reason to involve you in that respect, although they asked about our relationship. I said we had one…it seemed to be the thing to do, since you said we had one last night when you were telling the officer off. Let’s go take care of that right now—our relationship, I mean.”

  “You’re going to use this relationship thing as blackmail, aren’t you? Me, running to you every time a lead pops up? My protector, that sort of thing?”

  “I am bigger than you, honey. Sometimes you like that.” Kyle wiggled his eyebrows, leering at her. But Rachel understood that he was trying to lighten the long hard day and the job ahead of her—telling her mother about Mallory’s tape, and just maybe, Katrina….

  “Don’t even think about staying anywhere but my apartment, Kyle-dear,” Rachel ordered.

  Kyle frowned slightly. “Gossip can mark a woman. Bob isn’t going to like this.”

  “I need protection, don’t I? Isn’t that just why you laid that word, ‘relationship,’ all over me?”

  “You’re going to boss me around, aren’t you?”

  “Just watch me.”

  Kyle’s expression was wary. “Now, get this straight, honey. We’re in a short-term relationship and I’m just in it for the sex. Which is good, by the way. Right now, it’s working—as long as you don’t go off half-cocked again. We get this guy, pin some real evidence on him, and everyone is free to go their own way.”

  Rachel studied Kyle, the man who in his drugged pain had said he loved her, but that she deserved better. “Did I ask for anything else, Scanlon?”

  “I’m feeling better,” Kyle murmured against Rachel’s throat at five o’clock the next morning.

  “Mm. You’re feeling something, Scanlon,” she returned drowsily as he moved over her, easing into her.

  Kyle bent to kiss her, and tried to keep his body from running ahead of the tenderness he wanted to give Rachel. “Hard day, yesterday, huh?”

  Trina had been stunned that she had a granddaughter, and devastated as she listened to the tape with Jada and Moses. Rachel had made the connection between her attack and the tape as briefly and coolly as possible. She’d revised the attack, softening it, but the impact still widened Trina’s eyes and she’d paled. “You actually think that Mallory was protecting us? You think it was Shane? I’ll kill him. I…will…kill him.”

  It had taken two hours to settle Trina, to make her believe that waiting was better, pinpointing whoever used Mallory with hard facts that couldn’t be denied. Jada and Moses had taken her home, and from Moses’s steady look at Trina, he’d found a woman who interested him; he had nodded to Kyle, a silent indication that he would be safeguarding the two women. Later, Rachel had seemed distracted and quiet and remote.

  Around midnight, she’d started tossing and her restless murmurs had become screams of terror: “Don’t! Don’t touch me…don’t! Mallory? Mallory, are you still here?”

  Kyle had soothed her, but she had good reason to be upset, the past leaping upon her—she’d finally fallen asleep, curled next to him with Pup and Harry on her other side.

  Now Rachel adjusted her hips, lifting for his deeper access, moving slowly, dreamlike. Her hands smoothed his chest, his shoulders, his face. “You look awful,” she whispered, drawing his face down for those amazing light kisses all over it.

  “Thanks. A little to the left, Everly.”

  She complied and brushed her lips against his jaw. “You’re a heavy-beard man, aren’t you?”

  He stilled, not wanting to hurt her and started to ease away. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel arched toward him, her internal muscles tightening, her hands drawing his lips to hers. “Not a chance, Scanlon. You’re not going anywhere. I thought we were just in this for the sex, right? Your payment is overdue, Scanlon.”

  He relaxed, pushing down on her, luxuriating in that tight warm moist clench, the stroke of her thighs moving around his, her insoles rubbing his calves. “You’re all nice and hairy and warm and appealing right now.”

  Kyle looked down to where their bodies met, hers long and soft and pale against his. “Ditto.”

  “Hey. I shave my legs on a regular basis.”

  “But you’re warm—hot, really—and appealing.”

  On the aftermath of a hard, stress-filled, emotional two days, Kyle intended to take his time pleasuring them both and placing the problems outside this room, this moment with Rachel. His hands slid down her sides then back up, his thumbs toying with her breasts. “You always sleep naked?”

  “When I’m hoping to get made.”

  “Mm. You just might get your wish.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Feels like it, partner.”

  Kyle gave her a “please, you doubt that I can?” look, and Rachel laughed softly, the sound catching him. He smoothed away the stand of hair from her face, studying that dimple on her cheek, kissing it. “I like the sound of that—you laughing.”

  “Well, you’ve just got it, you know.”

  “I’m going to get it.” Then Kyle started moving and forgot everything but the sweetness of making love to Rachel.

  “That was nice, big guy. Sweet,” Rachel said as he managed to breathe again and eased from her. She turned her head on the pillow and stared at him in the bedroom’s shadows. “Now, why did you think that Mallory chose me to take over this place?”

  “You’re her sister?”

  “Bull. Why do you think?”

  “Tell me what you’re holding, why you were so quiet last night, and what you were thinking about, and then we’ll talk. You had nightmares for most of the night and—”

  Rachel jackknifed upright and wrapped a sheet around her. Kyle gripped it in his fist, holding her imprisoned. “Give, Rachel. You’re too much woman to let a freak like Shane bother you. You could have reported him, and you didn’t. You should have,” he corrected, angry with her and with himself for not protecting her.

  “You’d better not have pulled any macho stuff about avenging me with Shane. I take care of my business.” She struggled against Kyle’s grip on the sheet. “You’re still pretty bruised, Kyle. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Try.” She didn’t trust him enough to tell him everything…. “We’re in a relationship, aren’t we?” he stated harshly to remind her of her statement to the police.

  Rachel turned to him, her eyes flashing. “It’s just sex, you said so.”

  His own words, flung at him in the aftermath of lovemaking, hurt. “Sure. That’s what I said.”

  She flattened her hand on his chest, and Kyle allowed her to push him down on the pillow while she sat on the edge of the bed. But he held the sheet tight and waited, locking his stare with hers.

  Rachel spoke finally, “You’re afraid of the picket fence, the kids’ swing in the backyard, and the whole picture, aren’t you? Maybe you’re af
raid of commitment, of letting someone take care of you once in a while. You’ve been giving me hell every time I wanted to help you, tough guy.”

  No one had pushed Kyle like Rachel; no one had gone that deep into his scars or his fears. Years of his early fight to survive surfaced automatically. “I am not afraid of anything.”

  “You’re afraid you won’t fit. Coward. My gosh, what would happen if people found out how much good you do? What would that do for your tough-guy, loser profile then? I had a little chat with Moses—an ex-wrestler who can’t stand blood and I just found out that you got him a job as a personal trainer, no blood involved. Iris and Patty adore you, for good reason. They weren’t just showgirls, were they? They did a little more than that, didn’t they? Before you started playing big daddy and helping them out?”

  “Busy girl,” Kyle stated darkly as he released her sheet, and lay back, his hands behind his head. “What else do you know?”

  “Just that you’re probably the one who helped Mallory with her mortgage-down money.”

  Kyle chewed on that. Only Rachel had been able to piece that bit of information together. “Like I said, busy girl.”

  “While I was in your books, checking on those phone bills for your girls, I found several big cash withdrawals that matched Mallory’s initial deposit. You helped her quite a bit through the years. You helped her with childbirth and every other thing in her life, but you couldn’t save her from herself, could you?”

  He’d stopped giving money to Mallory when her drug habit had deepened and when so many male visitors had climbed those stairs to her apartment. She’d started buying exotic negligees and sex toys and she’d drawn away from Kyle—except when she really needed him, then she would call….

  “Okay, I helped Mallory. John Sr. helped me, and I was just passing it around a little bit. I knew when someone really needed a boost, and not just for the money either—but for pride’s sake. Mallory was at the lowest point I’d ever seen her—she’d given away a baby and she’d come face-to-face with what she was, that she might never be a suitable parent—that she could endanger her own child. I saw how she struggled to redirect herself, throwing herself into that business, the pride she took in being able to help with Katrina’s support…. But what’s up with you, Rachel? What are you chewing on?”

  Rachel stood and slid into her jeans and Kyle’s summer shirt. “I’m going downstairs.”

  Kyle waited at the open stairway door until he heard the billiard balls click against each other; at her side, Pup would bark, signaling any disturbance. Rachel wasn’t playing for pleasure, she was deep in thought and she’d barred him from whatever troubled her. Harry rubbed against Kyle’s jeaned legs, purring loudly for his morning food. “So that’s how she got you,” Kyle said, bending to rub the cat’s ears. “You came to her when she needed you, and you probably saw everything, right? Care to tell me what happened, from a cat’s point of view?”

  Kyle brewed coffee and took their mugs downstairs. He sipped quietly as Rachel shot, coldly, expertly, intently focused on the balls. She leaned down low, formed a bridge, her body outstretched, elbow high at that 90-degree angle and fired the cue ball into the pocket. “Tell me why Mallory wanted me to have this place.”

  “Because you can handle it. Because she knew that you’d bring this guy out in the open and because you’d get him and keep Katrina safe. Evidence, Rachel. She knew you’d get him and she was too far gone, with a reputation that would damage anything she tried to make anything stick.”

  Rachel rounded the table, collected the balls and racked them. The morning sunlight penetrated the bamboo blinds she had lowered, catching the ferns, and outlining her body beneath his shirt. Kyle settled into watch Rachel work off steam, fighting something inside her that she didn’t want to recognize. She shook the rack grimly, seating the balls against each other. “She’s still here, waiting. I feel her. She wants something.”

  “Maybe.”

  Rachel suddenly tossed her cue stick onto the table. “I’m going to the beach.”

  “Am I invited?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be there anyway. I’ve watched one woman go through whatever it is tearing you apart, and I don’t like watching another—especially when I know you are about ready to do something that could mean a whole lot of trouble. Mallory took it, but you’re not waiting, are you?”

  “No. I just need some thinking space, and when you’re with me—” Rachel moved into Kyle’s arms and held him tight. “I need you, Kyle. I need you to understand.”

  He tried to make light of his tumbling, uncertain emotions. Rachel wasn’t including him in her thoughts; she didn’t trust him, or she’d be forthright. If it had anything to do with her nightmares, it wasn’t pleasant. “I don’t. But if you need to go to the beach, I’ll keep my distance.”

  She raised to look at him. “You don’t mind?”

  “Hell, yes, I mind. Just don’t make a move without me.”

  Later, when he stood watching Rachel walk on the beach, picking up pebbles and tossing them into the ocean, a vast backdrop against her body, Kyle ached for her. He reached to pat Pup, whose drool spindled in the wind as he looked up at Kyle and whined softly.

  “Stop it, Mallory. Stop driving Rachel,” Kyle whispered into the wind as Rachel made her way up to him.

  She searched his face and Kyle waited for just that heartbeat before pulling her into his arms, bending his head to hers. “We’ll get through this, honey.”

  Her body was tense against his, her arms locked around his waist. She was shaking and Kyle knew he had to wait for her to speak; all he could do was to try to understand whatever she was mulling. She snuggled her face to his throat, tears damp against his skin. “When you hold me, your hands are open,” she noted quietly against the roaring tides and ocean winds.

  “That’s because I’m trying to cop a feel,” he lied against her temple.

  “You’re smoothing my back, not copping a feel, Scanlon. You’re rocking me. That says you care, doesn’t it? That there’s nothing sexual in this moment?”

  “There could be. Give me a minute to work it up.”

  Against his throat, Rachel shook her head. “When we make love, then you are very careful, too.”

  Kyle didn’t like where this conversation was going and he tried to lighten Rachel’s mood. He held her away, cradled her face and smoothed her tears with his thumbs. “Hey, is something wrong with my technique?” he asked gently.

  Rachel leaned close and her expression tore him apart. “Kiss the side of my face.”

  He frowned and complied. “What’s going on?”

  “That was a friendship kiss, right?”

  The question was odd, disturbing him. So was her next direction, “Now hold me, as a friend would do with a hug, and kiss the side of my cheek.”

  Kyle complied and then took her cold hands, warming them between his own and bringing them to his lips. “I can do better.”

  “You fold me into you. You care. There’s nothing sexual going on,” she rapped out as if logging facts into her mind. Rachel shook her head as if to clear it and then leaned her forehead against his chest. “Let’s just go home.”

  Kyle thought of the appointments he had, the calls he needed to make, the repairs to the garage, and said, “Sure.”

  In the apartment, Rachel moved automatically, preparing sandwiches, flipping through the television channels, and feeding Harry. But she held her body protectively, rocking as she looked out of the windows onto Atlantis Street. Kyle ached for Rachel; he went to stand behind her and drew her back against his body as he kissed the side of her cheek. “This is not good, is it? What you’re going through?” he asked.

  Rachel shook her head. “Not good at all.”

  “Can I help?”

  “When I’m certain—” She turned to him. “Let’s make love, Kyle. I need to feel you against me, in me, the way you touch me.”

  “I think I can manage that,” he said, bendin
g to lift her into his arms. If he couldn’t give her support now, if she didn’t trust him to explain the darkness that had come over her, he could give her love with each kiss, each caress….

  “I’m going to Mom’s office,” Rachel said when they lay sated and entangled, together and yet apart. “By myself. I need to talk with her…privately.”

  “Sure. ‘Privately’ says you don’t want me there, so this must be good because I know just about everything, don’t I? Except what you’re holding now? What you’ve been thinking about constantly since yesterday? Don’t ever let me inside, Rachel. Don’t let me get too close.”

  Kyle sat up in bed and looked down at her. Anger blended with pain as he spoke, “And don’t ever, ever trust me. Right? Just you, handling things on your own, wading through whatever goddamn mess you’re trying to sort out? Want to give me a hint? Is it Shane? I told him not ever to come close to you again—”

  “It isn’t Shane. It’s just something I have to work out.”

  Kyle jerked on his jeans. “Well, that’s just great. You go work it out. Come back when you’re ready. Everything on your terms, right?”

  “I’m sorry—”

  Rachel looked so shattered and vulnerable that Kyle instantly regretted his anger. “Okay…okay. I’m just frustrated and I want to help and you’re shutting me out. If this has to do with Mallory—”

  He knew then, by the quick way Rachel looked away, that it had everything to do with Mallory. And he could only wait…. “Be careful. There’s someone out there who tried to kill me and someone who drove Mallory to suicide. You’re going after him and I know it,” he said finally. “Let me know if I can help, fearless crusader.”

  But Rachel wasn’t sparring, her challenging attitude gone as she stared up at the circling blades of the ceiling fan. “I don’t think anyone can help this, Kyle….”

  Then she turned, curled into a ball and held Harry close to her, and there was nothing Kyle could do, but wait for Rachel to share her troubled mind with him—

  He knew then, that the worst war a man could wage was that of waiting, when he wanted to help, wanted to tear out the secret that Rachel held so close.