“I take it the groom was white.”
“Yes.”
“And the bride wasn’t?”
“No. She was half black, half Asian.”
“And Nadine?”
“Also an invited guest. And in the bathroom because her daughter had taken violently ill. There were no prints on the bomb. And no one could trace it.”
“So maybe she really didn’t do it.”
“They have videotape of Nadine putting something in the corner of the bathroom.”
“Then they do have evidence. At least against her.”
“The videotape was seized illegally. Without a warrant. It was thrown out as evidence.”
“Let me guess. Miller seized it.”
“The report didn’t name the officer responsible.”
Cuddled up to Michael, Sara wasn’t cold anymore. But she shivered anyway.
And he hugged her closer.
* * *
MICHAEL DIDN’T LIKE the look of the newcomer. He wasn’t as big as a couple of the other guys who’d arrived over the course of the past hour, but he was tall. He traveled lighter than most, with only a worn-looking green blanket slung around his neck. Wearing old beat-up fatigue pants with a button-down shirt missing half the buttons, he looked kind of like a soldier down on his luck. His shoes were mismatched. But he stood upright. Walked with purpose. He clearly didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
* * *
NINE O’CLOCK HAD come and gone. There were twelve people hanging out under the pier. A couple of loners, the rest in groups. No one who resembled Nicole.
The card players were still at it, though the laughing had ceased. A couple who’d been sharing a bottle were asleep about six yards away from Michael and Sara. Sara wanted to sleep. She’d laid her head against Michael’s shoulder, but she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes closed long enough for sleep to find her.
She watched the flames. Listened to the sound of the waves as they bumped up against the cement pier again and again. Tried to lose herself in the rhythm.
To pretend that she belonged in Michael’s arms.
“If Nicole is still part of the Ivory Nation, if she still wants that life, why would she run?” she whispered when the darkness produced more demons than she could fight on her own.
“Because she’s only fulfilled her purpose, served her cause, if her son is raised within the brotherhood. Her purpose for birthing a boy is to produce a pure soldier for the cause.” Michael turned his head, resting his forehead against hers so that their moving lips were shielded. Sara could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke.
She licked her lips and said, “Then, why didn’t she run to her father? Robert would have helped her.”
“She’s afraid of him,” Michael said. “You said so yourself.”
Nicole had told her that her father had once pulled her arm out of its socket because she’d disobeyed him. She’d intimated that there had been many other such injuries when she was growing up.
And what had Nadine said? Something about doing what her father told her to do? Following his rule?
“So why wouldn’t she go to another member of the brotherhood?” She didn’t trust Nicole’s story. Wasn’t as certain anymore that the woman was the victim here, but she wasn’t sure she wasn’t, either. One thing was for certain. Most particularly after speaking with Dr. Anderson that day, she absolutely could not wrap her mind around the idea of Trevor Kramer as the victim.
Michael wasn’t talking. So she continued, “If Trevor left the Ivory Nation, the brotherhood would be against him, not loyal to him, right? Nicole is lovely. She’s Robert’s daughter. And she has a son. What unattached brother wouldn’t go for that? Surely, if she lived in that society her entire life, she’d have met a man or two she found attractive. Found decent. Maybe even trusted...”
She found Michael attractive. And, in spite of his lies, decent. Did she trust him?
“If she’s still dedicated to the cause, that is...”
“You have a point,” he said.
“Which leaves us where?”
“I have an open warrant. I have to find her.”
“If we don’t bring her in, he’ll kill her.”
They were where they’d started. Right down to the desire that just wouldn’t leave them alone.
Michael didn’t say a word. And neither did she. Not for a long time.
She felt him, though—was aware of every breath he took. As though their bodies were one.
When he moved, only slightly, and she felt his lips slide over hers, her response was as natural as breathing.
And she didn’t ever want his tongue to stop doing those delicious things to her.
She clung to him. Felt her underwear get wet.
And remembered where they were.
* * *
WHEN SARA TURNED her head, Michael came to his senses. She was trembling.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Not your fault,” she said.
And because he was so desperate to get them out of the minefield he’d just put them in, he gave voice to something that had been becoming pretty evident to him over the past couple of hours.
“I think it’s pretty clear that the Ivory Nation is a player here. More than just Robert calling a friend for a favor.”
“I don’t want to think that.”
But she didn’t deny it, either.
“Why else would each of the two halves of a couple be so adamant about getting their child—this perceived godlike heir—away from the other? If they’ve both shunned the Ivory Nation, why do we have a fugitive on the run, willing to risk her life to kidnap the child, and a parent afraid to stay in one place with his child?”
“If the Ivory Nation isn’t involved, why do we have a police officer issuing warrants on bogus charges, or offering personal protection of an ordinary, nonthreatened member of society?” Sara’s words came slowly, as if they were occurring to her as she spoke.
But Michael knew better. Her mind had been as busy as his.
“So the question is, which one of them is still a member of the Ivory Nation?” He voiced the question they’d both been avoiding.
“Which one is trying to save Toby and which one still believes he’s the chosen one?” Sara’s whisper touched his lips.
“Which one does the Ivory Nation want dead?” He laid the truth baldly in front of them.
“Are Robert and Nadine involved?” Sara asked.
“How much danger are we in?” He couldn’t let her hide from this.
Another long silence fell. One or both of them could die that night...
They moved again, turning their heads toward each other. That time Sara kissed him. And Lord help him, Michael kissed her back.
* * *
“YOU NEED TO GO.” Michael’s words against her lips had Sara shaking her head again.
“I’m not leaving you.” She heard what she’d said and added, “Nicole. If she gets here and just sees you, she’s going to run.”
She was glad he didn’t try to deny the truth of what she’d said. They couldn’t afford the dissension. “We have to come together on this, Michael. Who do we trust?”
“I trust you.”
His softly spoken words, the humble way he dipped his head, brought tears to her eyes. And it was as though a dam burst forth inside her when she said, “I trust you.” And recognized the bone-deep truth in the words.
Michael was a good man. A decent man. One who would risk his life and go up against the most dangerous, desperate criminals to save innocent lives.
He was a man who’d been given rotten lemons and still managed to make lemonade.
The Lemonade Stand’s motto came to m
ind. When you’re given lemons, you make lemonade. Right now, the words gave her faith in him.
“We have to figure out who’s got the brotherhood working for them and who’s got a marker on his or her head,” she said. “I think it’s pretty clear, with Miller obviously being dirty, that Trevor is likely still in the brotherhood.”
“Unless the brotherhood is blackmailing Trevor, strong-arming him, refusing to let him go. Maybe those things that Trevor used to frame Nicole, if that was even true, were acts engaged in by other Ivory Nation brothers who framed Trevor. Maybe Miller is just what Trevor says he is—his protector.”
“Then why do you still have an active warrant against Nicole? I know for a fact that it was dismissed. The LAPD was on speakerphone with Officer Sanchez when the call came through.”
“I didn’t call Miller to verify the status of the warrant this morning. I just called the switchboard.”
“I’m sure there’s a warrant. I’m also sure it was issued by Miller or someone he put up to it. And that it’s bogus.”
“I’m not saying you aren’t right. But if Trevor is still a part of the Ivory Nation, and he has his son, why doesn’t the brotherhood just quietly get rid of Nicole? They’ve had plenty of opportunity, and we both know they don’t hesitate to shed blood. With Miller’s help and their experience and community, they could easily make it look like an accident. Or make a body disappear.”
“I don’t know. Because she’s Robert’s daughter?”
“She was raised Ivory Nation,” he repeated for the umpteenth time. “It’s more likely that she’s the one who’s still in. I just find it uncomfortably coincidental that she ran here, to Santa Raquel, where her parents just happen to live.”
“I don’t feel comfortable about that, either. Not anymore. But if she’s in with her parents, why would Robert tell you where to look for her?”
“I don’t know.”
She rested against him, shoulder to shoulder, cheek to cheek. Pulling the blanket up to shield her mouth. Both of them were alert now, looking around them. Another person had joined the crowd. Not Nicole.
“What are we going to do?” Sara couldn’t help but ask the question.
“We’re going to sit here and wait for Nicole to show up. And when she does, you’re going to follow my lead and do exactly as I tell you.”
“Okay.” Sara didn’t even think about arguing. Somehow the two of them together were stronger than either of them alone.
She trusted Michael, the man who’d admittedly lied to her many times, with her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EVERYONE WAS LYING. That was the only fact that Michael believed about his current case. Nicole was not the innocent she’d portrayed to Sara. And Trevor was not the decent man he’d shown himself to be.
He could call Nicole’s doctor to verify the facts of her miscarriage, but he didn’t need to do so. Because there was another truth that had come home to him.
He trusted Sara Havens. And she’d verified the doctor’s information.
So they’d wait. He expected Nicole sometime before midnight. If she was coming at all. He couldn’t be sure. He’d factored in lies as truth and truth as lies.
But his instincts were telling him she’d be there. She needed community. Community that was set apart from the rest of society. Hence, her seeking cover at a women’s shelter.
A religious sect would work, but it might be too much like the Ivory Nation. If Nicole had really shunned the brotherhood for good, she would more likely seek solace in a place where she felt free. It didn’t get much freer than out on the street.
Running the facts over and over in his mind, Michael watched the various sorts gathering around them. They were up to eighteen, counting him and Sara. Mostly, he kept the tall man in his sight. Wanting to know where he was at all times. He was currently sitting by himself, arms over his knees, gazing out at the water.
Waiting?
Or passing time like the rest of them?
Had Nicole miscalculated? Did the Ivory Nation somehow know she was going to be there that night?
Michael hadn’t told anyone.
“Did you tell anyone where we’re going to be tonight?” he whispered without moving. Sara should be asleep. He knew from her breathing that she was not.
“Yes. Of course. In case we need backup.”
“That guy over by the graffiti rock...”
“The one with the fatigues.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t belong.”
“You know him?”
“No.”
“Could he be one of yours?”
“I wondered. The Santa Raquel police have extra officers alerted to our situation. They could easily have sent someone here.”
“I need to get close enough to see if he’s tattooed.”
“Right, and how do you intend to get that blanket off from around his neck?”
“I was planning to wait until he turns in and is using the blanket.”
* * *
STIFF FROM SITTING too long in one position, from sitting on the hard ground, from the chill in the air, Sara tried not to let fear control her. “You said you wanted to look at his tattoo,” she said after nearly twenty minutes of silently eavesdropping on other’s lives. “That would imply you suspect he’s from the Ivory Nation.”
“How would he know to be here if he was?”
“Exactly.”
As normal, he’d told her nothing. As usual, she didn’t push.
“I don’t think he’s Ivory Nation,” he said after several more minutes of silence. “I am just open to, and keeping myself aware of, any possibility at this point. He doesn’t fit in. I want to be prepared for all worst-case scenarios.”
He wasn’t just a man. Just Michael. He wasn’t even out of his element. He was a bounty hunter who faced danger as a way of life.
The reminder should have put distance between them.
It didn’t.
* * *
TEN O’CLOCK HAD come and gone. Michael’s watch was in the brown bag with his brown bottle filled with water. He couldn’t afford to lose track of time. To get disoriented in any way. He’d dozed off a couple of times. For ten to twenty-minute spurts. Enough to keep him going all night if he had to.
Adrenaline would provide what sleep could not.
There’d been another arrival. A threesome. All teenagers. They were loud, obviously on something and disruptive. They definitely weren’t Nicole.
One of the card players turned and said something to them. They snickered, but quieted, then headed up toward the cliff where Sara and Michael lay.
Tensing, he wrapped his arms more tightly around his companion. The threesome gave them a dismissive glance and turned back the way they’d come.
“You can loosen up a little.” The voice in his ear sounded slightly strangled.
He wasn’t holding her that tightly.
Just tight enough to feel good. Damned good.
After that night, he was probably never going to see her again. They both knew it.
Even if the rest of their stars aligned, she wasn’t going to mother another woman’s child again. Not when that child belonged to a man who could take the child away from her.
She’d probably tell him so if he pushed for a dinner date when this was all over. But they didn’t need to talk about it. Her signals had been completely clear.
There’s always adoption. Peanut would have said that. She was always looking at the positive side of everything. His burning attraction to Sara aside, Michael was not all that eager to fall in love again, though. Sara could die tonight. Or in a car accident. He’d lost the love of his life. He wasn’t going through that again.
He closed his eyes. After they found Nicole, he was never g
oing to see Sara Havens again.
“You ever think about what might have happened if we’d finished what we’d started that night in your hot tub?” The question slipped out of him some time later.
His tongue had missed the sleep memo. He didn’t want to think about what his penis was doing. Again.
“No.” She sounded wide-awake.
“You’re lying.”
“Yeah.”
“So you have thought about it. You and me. You know.” He moved. Pushing his hip against hers as he lifted his butt off the ground.
Sara moved, too. Almost imperceptibly. But he knew it was no mistake when her breast rubbed against his elbow.
“You want to do it?”
“Now?”
“I’m not saying we will. Just wondering if you want to.”
There was something about spending the night under a blanket on the beach. That had to be it. Or lying for hours, knowing that your life could be in danger.
“No.”
“You’re lying again.”
“Yeah.”
At least they knew where they stood.
There was good in that.
* * *
HE WAS STRETCHED OUT there thinking about having sex with her. About pulling off those ridiculous pants, showing her if he wore boxers or briefs, taking those down, too, and giving her a piece of himself. Where it counted most.
That was the story Sara told herself. She imagined him sliding his hand up under the hideous dress she wore. Finding out that she wore a silk thong. Running his finger along the material where it disappeared in her butt crack.
It was better than wondering if a member of the Ivory Nation was on the beach watching them.
The insidious flames of desire that shot through her body and pooled in her center were far better than the fear that threatened to take her over.
She’d be ashamed in the morning for having such thoughts. Her mind had certainly never run so freely before. But she was out of sync with her entire life, afraid of what might take place in the hours ahead.
And lying next to a man she’d wanted to have sex with since the first day she’d met him.
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