by Jo Davis
The driveway, and that was using the term loosely, was rutted and muddy, more weeds poking valiantly between the tire grooves. A detached garage was out back, so he headed there and wasn’t surprised to see the big, shiny new Escalade Drew had mentioned parked inside. So, the bastard was home and was either sleeping or ignoring Shane. He was betting on the second option. Which meant he was likely being watched.
“Hello? Mr. Eastlake?”
Acting as though he wasn’t snooping, he made a show of looking for the man, calling out his name occasionally while scoping out the place. The garage was the typical jumble of auto parts, paint, tools, and a lawnmower and cleaning supplies that had obviously never been called upon to serve their purpose. Nothing stood out as a red flag, but then, he hadn’t exactly expected to find bags of cocaine lying around in the open.
“Hello?”
The backyard wasn’t much of one. Half the fence was gone, and the one poor tree looked dead. Again he wondered why the hell Drew was hanging out with this kid, Ty. What was he getting out of this friendship? Nothing positive so far.
“Can I help you?”
Turning around, he pasted on a friendly smile. “Oh, hey. You must be Mr. Eastlake.” Moving forward, he extended his hand. As the man grasped it with a hand that couldn’t have seen a bar of soap in a week, Shane vowed to douse his own with bleach at the first opportunity. “I’m Shane Ford, Drew’s guardian.”
In a glance, he took in an older version of Ty, without the black hair dye. The man was about four inches shorter than Shane and wiry. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown and streaked with premature gray from presumed hard living. His jeans and T-shirt hung off his frame, but for all that, he didn’t look weak.
He appeared mean and tough, like a half-starved Doberman.
The man dropped his hand, giving him a blank look. And didn’t return his smile. “Who?”
“Drew, from the high school,” he said, carefully avoiding the boy’s last name. “Our boys seem to have become friends, and they got into some trouble last night.”
Eastlake’s expression cleared. “Oh yeah. Ty mentioned once that he had a new friend, but I haven’t met him. I’m not home much.”
You don’t say. He was glad, though, that the man didn’t appear to know who exactly Drew was. “Oh. Well, I just thought I’d come over and introduce myself, since Drew can’t stop talking about Ty.” Jesus, he sounded like the president of the PTA. “And I wanted to find out when you think is a good time for them to start on the painting they need to do for the man whose barn and house they tagged.”
He was careful not to mention Johnson by name. Wouldn’t do any good to put Eastlake on alert. Remember, you’re a dad, not a cop.
Eastlake peered at him, scratching his chin as though observing a strange species of father—one who gave a damn. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t care if they do it or not. Johnson’s an asshole.”
“But if they don’t, he’ll press charges.”
He chuckled at that, then spit on the grass. “Nah, he won’t. He knows I’d kick his fuckin’ ass.”
“So he’s a friend of yours?” he asked, pretending ignorance.
“Wouldn’t call him that, exactly. More like an acquaintance who doesn’t want to screw with me.”
“Is that so? I’ll bet he knows who’s boss.” Shane chuckled as though commiserating with the prick when what he wanted to do was punch him in the face. The man actually smiled at that, so he played it up a bit more. “In any case, my boy could use the practice with that brush arm so I can put his lazy butt to work at home next. If you want yours to do the same, I’d be glad to give them a ride out there and back until they’re finished.”
“You know, that’s a good idea you got there. The place could use a fresh coat of paint. I’ll take you up on that, Ford.”
Paint, hell. It could use a bulldozer.
“Great. I figure they can work after school this week and this coming weekend. Give them something to do besides get in our hair. Right?”
“You bet.” Eastlake waved a hand in dismissal. “Pick the kid up whenever, I don’t care. He gives you any lip, just remind him what’ll happen if daddy gets pissed off.”
Bastard. “Sure thing. Nice talking to you.”
The man grunted and turned back to the house. Shane wondered as he returned to his truck whether Ty was inside, nursing the effects of What Happens When Daddy Gets Pissed Off, and it made him see red.
He was cursing as he pulled away. Sooner or later Eastlake would get what he had coming.
Shane hoped he’d be around when that happened.
• • •
Daisy sat at her desk, reviewing case files of the juveniles she was currently working with. Or trying to, anyway.
It was only Monday, and her concentration was shot. She had a sexy cowboy of a cop to thank for that, once again. She hadn’t really come to terms with the first time he’d screwed her over—in every sense—and she’d gone and fallen for his smooth talking again.
She was more than a little angry with herself, too. Sure, his sad story had touched her. Who could hear of his parents’ deaths and how he had to take care of Shea in the aftermath without understanding where he was coming from? He didn’t want responsibility for anyone but himself, and who could blame him?
There was Drew now, though, and while she knew Shane loved the boy, he couldn’t possibly want to take on a relationship with Daisy, or any woman, on top of that. The man’s fatal flaw was that he was a serial bachelor.
Except now he was chasing after her like a hound dog on a scent. The first time he’d turned on the charm months ago, she’d lapped the attention, and him, like cream. Then he’d broken her heart and sent her reeling. And damned if she hadn’t fallen right back into bed with him at the first crook of his finger!
“I’m an idiot,” she muttered.
But a sexually satisfied one.
Opening another file, she attempted to keep the moodiness off her face. Unlike Shane and a couple of the other senior detectives, peons like Daisy were assigned a desk out in the main room among all the other desks. When you worked with people every day, you learned how to read their moods, and these guys were like vultures. They’d pick her clean in seconds if they smelled blood.
She was managing her calm facade pretty well until she heard a familiar, hated whine of a voice—and Shane’s answering laugh. Her fingers tightened on her file as she looked up.
Shane was in his office, leaning against his desk as he smiled at something Leslie Meyers was saying. Leslie was a uniformed officer who’d worked for the department for a long time. She was short, redheaded, fit, and good-looking enough—thanks to a nip and tuck job that removed a few years from her face. But every time she laughed, Daisy thought a goat had somehow found its way into the station.
The female officer leaned toward him, laying a hand on his arm as they yukked it up. Leslie trailed a finger down his chest playfully, and Daisy started to feel more than a little homicidal. A few seconds later, the woman winked and sauntered out.
“It’s a date!” she called, making certain the entire squad room heard. Or probably just Daisy, if the smirk she shot in her direction was any clue.
Daisy fumed silently, glaring back. A date? What the hell?
Leslie made a point to walk by her desk, and paused. “How’s kiddie patrol, Daisy Duke?”
She gave the woman a sweet smile. “Same as slut patrol is for you, Leslie Botox.”
The cop’s mouth dropped open. That was mean, but the woman deserved it. She walked around the department like she ruled the roost, and many of the guys who hadn’t slept with her were intimidated by her. Not me, bitch. Everyone knew that if you called Daisy by that hateful nickname, the gloves were off.
The other woman quickly composed herself, though her cheeks sported red flags. “Men appreciate a woman who takes care of herself. Especially Shane.”
Daisy lowered her voice in a conspira
torial manner and winked. “Oh, I know.”
A flash of anger went across Leslie’s face; then she recovered, snorting. “Right. Gotta go. I have real work to do—before I have dinner and a nightcap with a certain hot detective. Guess he’s wanting a repeat performance, and I can’t wait.”
As she strutted away, Daisy wanted to tear off her head. Then Shane’s balls. Dinner? Nightcap? Repeat performance?
Shane chose that unfortunate moment to leave his office and appear at her desk with a smile on his face. “Hey, sugar. I really enjoyed Saturday ni—”
“As much as you’re going to love dinner with Leslie?” she asked coolly.
His smiled faded. “What?”
“Dinner. You know, that thing a man and a woman do when he’s feeding you a total line of bullshit to go with dessert?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” she hissed. “Have you or have you not slept with that ho?”
“Whoa! Lower your voice,” he said, glancing around. The few officers around were studiously pretending not to listen. “What’s gotten into you? Did she say something to you?”
She stared at him. “Nice work, Detective. Of course she said something! You have a lot of nerve. You know that?”
“What do you mean?” To his credit, he appeared at a loss.
Gathering her purse from the floor, she stood. “After Saturday, I had hopes that you’d change, that things would be different. Then I told myself how stupid I was, and it turns out I was right—I’m a moron. I come running every time you beckon, and yet you still can’t let your poodles off their leashes.”
“Leslie?” he asked, looking dumbfounded. “She’s not my poodle, or my anything else! I mean, yes, a couple of years ago we— we—” He broke off at her murderous glare. “Well, that doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m not interested in her!”
“Then why is she gloating that you’re taking her out? I believe a nightcap and a repeat performance came up.” I will not throttle him.
“It’s lunch, not dinner!”
She could tell that the instant it left his mouth, he knew that was precisely the wrong thing to say. He stammered as she stabbed his chest with one fingernail.
“You know what? Fuck you, Shane! Fuck you!”
“Wait! It’s not what you think!”
As she swept past, the others were done pretending not to stare. They goggled openly, glancing between the woman who’d dressed down the golden boy of the department, and Golden Boy himself. Let them—she didn’t give a crap!
As she stalked past Chris and Taylor she heard a snippet of conversation.
“You owe me twenty bucks.”
“Twenty more says they make up.”
“You’re on!”
Fuckers. Every one of them. She heard Shane call out again for her to hold up, but she kept going. Where, she didn’t know or care. Maybe she’d swing by the high school, check on a few of her juvies. Look in on Drew while she was at it, make sure he was in attendance and behaving himself.
She cared about that boy, even if she was never destined to be with his guardian. That thought hurt badly, but she wouldn’t try to change any man. He had to want to be with her, and he must be faithful. That was a deal breaker. She didn’t deserve less than what her own parents had—a solid marriage of almost thirty years.
Trust. Dedication. Love.
Daisy Callahan didn’t cling to any man. She refused to be that girl.
And she refused to shed another tear over that man. Really.
• • •
Shane stared after Daisy, mouth open.
“You’re gonna let the flies in,” Chris said. “You look shocked, though I can’t imagine why. Man, you really know how to screw things up with her, don’t you?”
“What did I do?” He was completely baffled. “She’s acting like she’s jealous of Leslie.”
“You think?” Taylor snorted. “You banged Leslie, man.”
“Two years ago!”
“That don’t matter to women. Especially when they’ve got their claws out and their sights on the same guy.”
“But Leslie’s not interested in me,” he insisted. “She just asked me to be on the committee for the police department ball this spring, and I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted to put in the time.”
Chris smirked. “Let me guess. She offered to give you the deets over lunch.”
“Well, yeah. Except she suggested dinner first, but I said lunch because that felt too much like a date.” He frowned. “Why is that a big deal?”
Both of his friends laughed, and his cousin smacked Shane in the side of the head. “Because, you big dumb-ass, she doesn’t give a rat’s hairy ass if you join the committee! She’s trying to get into your jock again!”
“No way.”
“He’s hopeless,” Taylor said.
Chris finally looked sympathetic. “Cuz, it’s a female thing. They toss out a line and use ordinary excuses, like meeting about the policeman’s ball, to reel you in. The fact that you were either stupid enough to fall for it or insensitive enough not to care told Daisy that she can’t trust you.”
“What? That’s crazy,” he protested. “I’ve never cheated on a woman in my life! I can’t help the mean little games they play with each other.”
“Sure you can, by being aware and not falling for them.”
He thought about that. Dammit, the guys were right. Leslie had been after him for a while now, wanting another round. And he’d handed her the ammunition to piss Daisy right the hell off. “Shit. What should I do?”
Chris propped his feet up. “Cancel this lunch with Leslie and tell her to find someone else for the committee, pronto. Then go to Daisy and beg. If you really want her, that is.”
With a sigh, he went back to his office and buried his face in his hands. He’d laugh if it wasn’t so damned sad. When he’d opened up to Daisy on Saturday night, he’d thought she had understood him. He’d never told a woman some of the painful things he’d shared with her about his family and their losses. How he felt. Wasn’t that what women wanted? Truth and sharing from their lover?
He’d done that and she still didn’t trust him. Disappointment squeezed his chest. He didn’t know what to do other than what Chris suggested. He’d keep trying because Daisy was worth the fight. He’d hurt her once, and it seemed she wasn’t going for a second round of heartache so easily, no matter how good in bed they were.
He’d just have to make sure she knew, once and for all, that he wouldn’t break her heart again. Because that would be the same as breaking his, too.
• • •
Carl pulled his ride into Johnson’s yard and shut off the ignition. The prick had better be home, because they had things to discuss.
Climbing out of his SUV, he strode to the front porch, glancing around. All was quiet out here, but that was about to change. On the porch he knocked and waited.
The door swung open, and the man stood staring at him balefully. “Carl. Whatcha want?”
“What do I want? What do you think I want, you moron?” Pushing past the man, he stomped into the living room. Frustrated, he spun to face his partner. “Has the product been moved?”
“No. Why?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. “Because you got two nosy teenage boys on their way out here this afternoon to paint the barn! And what’s in the fucking barn, stupid?”
“Don’t bitch at me, Carl! It’s your fault that useless little sperm deposit of yours came snooping around here in the first pl—”
Grabbing Frank by the front of his shirt, Carl walked him backward and slammed him into the wall, shaking the framed pictures there. “My boy was defendin’ his daddy like he ought. Which he wouldn’t have been forced to do if you could keep your mouth shut and do as I say. You dis him again and I’ll gut your fat fucking carcass from your dick to your neck. Got it?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Sorry.”
&n
bsp; “You are sorry, that’s for sure.” With a last shove, he let the other man go. “Get that shit moved, and do it fast. I don’t care where you put it, just do it. Let me know when it’s done, and give me the new location.”
“You’re not gonna help me? This is your operation!”
“That’s right, I’m the boss. And you’re the lab rat, so get movin’. Call Irvin if you need a hand.”
With a last glare, Carl stomped from the house. Johnson was getting to be too much trouble. If he kept on, he’d end up right where Holstead had.
In a ditch with a hole in his head.
8
Daisy walked through the halls at the high school, dodging students rushing from one class to another, plus the ones hanging in groups, clogging the flow of foot traffic.
The place hadn’t changed much. Just the hairstyles and the technology. It was familiar, yet made her feel old at the same time.
The office had told her this was Drew’s lunch period, so she headed for the cafeteria. The big dining area was packed, and it was hard to tell if he was there or not. So she went down every aisle of the long tables, scanning each kid. No Drew, and she was starting to get worried when she glanced out the wall of windows to her left and spotted a familiar figure hunched over a picnic table in the outside commons area.
As she moved to the door leading outside, she saw that Drew was alone, the table he’d chosen off in a corner by itself. She hated to see him isolate himself this way. He was staring at the table, head down, the picture of misery. As she approached, a tall brown-haired boy walked up to him.
“Hey, why don’t you come sit with us? Or are you too good to be seen with us?”
Daisy recognized it for the invite it was, even if it was thrown out like a challenge.
“Fuck off, Alan.” Drew didn’t even look up.
“Dude, you’re a head case. You’ll hang with that creepazoid, but not us? Whatever, man.”
