Unfiltered & Undone

by Payge Galvin

  “I’m going to have you wait out here while I check inside.”

  She nodded and unlocked the door. He went in. A few minutes later, he came out and escorted her inside.

  “There’s no sign Chandler got in,” Declan said. “But after we talk, we need to go to the station. The camera in the car caught him issuing threats. The campus cops might be willing to take his side in a dispute, but they won’t destroy evidence for him. Especially now that he’s hiring armed guys to come after you.” He shook his head. “I knew he was nuts, but that’s—”

  “It wasn’t Chandler,” Jess said as they moved into the living room.

  Declan paused. He slid a careful look her way. “I know you don’t want to think—”

  “No, believe me, after what he did to you, I don’t doubt he’s capable of hiring someone to threaten me, but that wasn’t what happened. It was…” She lowered herself onto the sofa. “I mentioned there’s something happening in my life. It’s connected to that.”

  Declan’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? Someone other than Chandler—?”

  “I don’t think it was Chandler in the vacant lot or at my door yesterday afternoon. It’s…” She exhaled. “I did something. Something bad and—”

  “And you need help.”

  Yes. That’s what she wanted to say. I need help. Please.

  Instead she shook her head. “I can’t get anyone else involved.”

  “And if I want to get involved?”

  “You don’t even know what—”

  “Then tell me.” He crouched in front of her and put his hands on her knees. “Tell me what’s going on, Jess.”

  She swallowed. “I can’t. That’s the problem. Once I tell you, you’re involved—”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “You don’t understand. This isn’t like finding out I’m pregnant. I did something. Something horrible. I—” She got to her feet, bent and pulled a laptop bag from under the sofa. She opened it and showed him the money inside. “This isn’t mine.”

  He nodded, slowly taking it in. “You’re holding it for someone. Drug money or—”

  “No. I mean, yes, it’s probably drug money, but I’m not holding it. I took it. Stole it.”

  His brows furrowed, thinking it through. “You found it. Found the money, took it, then realized what it was and knew you couldn’t just turn it in at the campus lost-and-found. That’s why this guy is after you.”

  “No. I mean, yes.” She let out a soft growl of frustration. “Yes, this is why he’s after me. But it was given to me after… something happened.”

  “Given to you? Okay, so you didn’t take it.”

  “It’s the same. I took it.”

  “No, it’s not the same, but I won’t argue. What you’re really telling me is that you accept responsibility. You won’t blame someone else. You’re being honorable.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Honorable, ethical, whatever the word is.” He pushed the bag back under the couch. “You were involved in something, and this money was part of it, and someone made you take a share, and I bet you haven’t used a single bill.”

  “I—”

  “In fact, I’ll bet you’ve already planned how to give it away.”

  She flushed. “Yes, but… the money’s only part of it, Declan. I did something. I really, truly did something horrible, and if you knew, you could go to jail just for knowing.”

  “Okay.”

  She pushed to her feet. “You aren’t taking this seriously.”

  “No, I’m being perfectly serious. You’re saying if you tell me, I’ll be an accessory to a crime. And I say, ‘Okay, then I’ll add it to the list.’” He took her hand and tugged her to sit with him on the sofa. “People tell me things, Jess. They always have. They need to tell someone, and maybe they can sense I’ve got enough secrets of my own that I won’t spill theirs. I’ve had friends tell me about things they stole, drugs they sold, people they beat the shit out of. I’ve had a stranger in a bar tell me about the homeless guy he hit with his car. The only time I’ve broken a confidence is when some asshole tried to hire me to kill his ex-wife. I could stop a crime there, so I did. Otherwise?” He shrugged. “Maybe someone would say that people ought to know the truth, and those people should be punished, but no one who confesses to me is bragging. They’re all paying the price, just like you are.”

  “It happened Saturday night.”

  He eased back on the sofa, as if preparing to hear her story, but she didn’t go on.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Sunday morning I called to say I didn’t want to take any more lessons at the club.”

  “Okay.” He stopped. “Guns. It involved a gun. You…” He looked at her, and there wasn’t any repulsion in his eyes, just understanding mixed with surprise. “You shot someone.”

  She nodded.

  “What’d he do?”

  “What makes you think—”

  He leaned toward her. “I don’t need to think, Jess. Not very hard, anyway. If he didn’t do anything, then you’re telling me you shot some random drug guy for his money, which is crazy. Not you. Not ever. Something happened, and there was a gun, and he was going to hurt you—”

  “Not me.”

  “Someone else, then, which makes even more sense. He’s going to hurt someone and you get hold of his gun—”

  “It was her— I mean, it wasn’t his gun. He had one, though, and I thought…” She swallowed. “I panicked.”

  “No, you made a split-second decision that may or may not have been completely warranted, but under the circumstances, was totally justifiable.”

  “I haven’t even told you what happened.”

  “You don’t have to. I can figure it out.” He looked her in the eye. “Am I figuring it out, Jess?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you haven’t told me anything, have you? If I’m an accessory to a shooting, it’s because I figured out what happened. Now this guy has recovered and he’s after you—”

  “He… There’s…” She swallowed. “It’s not him.”

  Silence, then, “You killed him?” And that’s when she got the look, the one she’d been dreading: shock. She stumbled to her feet, but Declan caught her arm.

  “Jess.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Jess.” He turned her to face him. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. If I seem confused, it’s because I’m trying to figure this out. If the guy is dead, it should be in the papers and I know there hasn’t been a shooting in Rio—”

  “They covered it up.”

  “What?”

  “There were others there. People I don’t know. Not really. Everything happened so fast and before I could even really understand that I’d killed a man, he—the body—was gone. Taken away to be cremated and everyone had cleaned things up, and then there was the money and they split it and I didn’t want any but they insisted, and so I had to take it, and I didn’t have the option of calling the police.” She swallowed hard. “I know that sounds ungrateful. They tried to help me. But I would have liked the option.”

  “Of course you would.” He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. “So it’s a justifiable shooting—”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Someone was under threat by a guy with a gun. He did something—raised it or whatever. You had a split-second to react. You shot him. Right?”

  She nodded.

  “Then it’s justifiable. You’d still have been charged and maybe stood trial and had your life fucked up.” Another brush-back of his hair with a deeper exhale. “Shit, Jess. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing they did. Fixed it for you. Cleaned it up. Afterward, though, yeah, I would have realized that wouldn’t be what you’d want. You’d rather face what you’d done. I know that. But now you can’t, and that wasn’t your choice, and all you can do is accept it and move on. As hard as that is.”

  She nodded, and he put his arms around h
er in a hug, unexpectedly fierce, as if he could squeeze away the guilt and the remorse. And it felt good, so damned good, like it had in the library, just feeling him there, his arms around her, holding her tight, that embrace saying, better than any words, It’s okay. Everything’s okay.

  He knew now. He knew what had happened, and she hadn’t blurted it out, unburdening herself only to burden him. She’d told someone and hadn’t seen horror or judgment or revulsion. She’d seen empathy. Concern. Most of all, understanding.

  She put her arms around him and hugged him back, and he kissed her. And that kiss? It was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. It was gentle and it was strong, it was kind and considerate and yet, under it, a little bit hungry, Declan reining that in, trying to keep it light and sweet, but she tasted that hunger and thought, That’s what I want. That’s what I need. Like a hot bath after a long day of cold Seattle rain. Wanting to lose herself in it, immerse herself in it. So she kissed him harder and deeper, pressing against him and feeling him respond, hearing him respond, that soft, stifled groan.

  He scooped her up and carried her into her room, and laid her on the bed and crawled in and started kissing her again. Kissing and hugging and bodies entwining and fingers tugging at clothing. A hesitation. A careful, “We don’t have to…” and, “I want to. Please.” And then, God it was sweet. Not pulse-pounding, delicious sex, but true lovemaking, like nothing she’d ever had before. Warm kisses and soft touches and quiet moans and the feeling of him inside her, part of her, his face right over hers, gaze locked on hers, the look in his eyes the sweetest thing of all.

  It ended with a quieter release, a slow release that seemed to go on forever, waves of pleasure that seemed to have no end, simply slowed into more kisses and whispers and embraces.

  “I’m crazy about you, Jess,” he whispered.

  “Well, that’s good.” She smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Because I’m crazy about you, too.”

  “So we’re good.”

  “Very good.”

  “Does that mean…”

  He hesitated, and she could tell he was trying to figure out a way to word it, to be sure of what she was saying.

  “If you’re asking me on a date, the answer is yes.”

  He chuckled. “And if I’m asking you for more than one?”

  “Yes, yes and yes.”

  “So, three dates?”

  “Yep. And all the nights in between them. If you’re up for that.”

  He grinned. “I can definitely be up for that.”

  He leaned down to kiss her… and someone pounded on the door.

  Declan cursed and raised his head.

  “Pizza delivery?” Jess said.

  “Sadly, I doubt it.” He rolled from bed and pulled on his jeans as the pounding continued. “Just wait here.”

  Chapter 20

  Jess

  The police were at the door. The campus police. They’d reviewed the tape in their cruiser and decided the person they really needed to talk to was Chandler. They didn’t say much about what they planned to do—That’s under investigation and review, miss—but they’d spoken to Chandler and he’d decided Declan was right, that it’d been more of a mutual altercation than an attack. No charges against Declan would be forthcoming.

  They went to dinner after that. Their first official date, though Declan joked he might space the next two as far apart as possible, since she’d promised him three and all the nights between. He took her to a little Mexican place he liked, and Jess felt completely relaxed for the first time since Saturday night. The problem wasn’t fixed. It couldn’t be fixed. And she still had to worry about that mystery guy coming after her. But she felt a sort of peace after her confession. And she had Declan, which was amazing in ways she was only beginning to realize.

  After dinner, they went back to his place. That seemed safer. They were still talking through options on what to do next. Jess would be done her intensive in a week, and since Declan didn’t have many students for summer term, he was considering taking some overdue time off so they could spend a few weeks in Phoenix while he commuted to Rio Verde to keep up his lessons. That would help keep anyone from following Jess. Plus, as he’d rightly pointed out, she could use some distance from the campus.

  For tonight, they stayed at his place. They had sex. Incredible and exhausting sex, and Jess hoped that would be enough to give her a sound and dreamless sleep. It wasn’t. The nightmare returned. Declan in the ring. Declan being grabbed by the man from The Coffee Cave. Jess shooting. Jess hitting Declan instead, the bullet going into his stomach, the shock on his face as he fell, dead—

  She woke, gasping and trying to scream. Declan already had her, holding her tight, telling her to wake up, that it was just a bad dream, nothing but a bad dream. It took a few minutes for her to get her breath. When she did, he said, “It’s the shooting, isn’t it? That’s what you dream about.”

  “Worse,” she said, before she could stop herself.

  “Worse?”

  She took a deep breath, and then told him. When she finished, her cheeks heated. “You were… kind of on my mind just before it happened, and I keep confusing the two and thinking I’m shooting you.”

  “Why in the stomach?” He paused. “Not that it matters, but they say dreams are important, and that might mean something. Shooting me by accident is your mind thinking, ‘What if I’d shot the person I was trying to save?’ Shooting when it’s just a fight shows you worry it wasn’t justified. You obviously didn’t shoot him in the stomach. So that means…”

  She went still as she replayed his words, You obviously didn’t shoot him in the stomach. Why would he say that? She knew, after a moment’s thought. Take enough anatomy courses and you know how much damage a wound to the stomach can do. What it can’t do? Kill someone instantly.

  “Jess?”

  She closed her eyes and did the one thing she hadn’t dared since Saturday night. She went back there. Back to the coffee shop. To that moment immediately after the shot, where she’d stood there, in shock, seeing the man on the floor. Seeing the blood on his shirt. On his stomach.

  “That’s where I shot him,” she said, her voice sounding distant and hollow. “I, I never thought about it. I was in shock. I didn’t black out, but it went… fuzzy.”

  “That’s the shock.”

  “It was the stomach, though. I can see him.” She swallowed. “I can see him lying there. I definitely shot him in the stomach.”

  “So it took a while?” Declan frowned and she knew he couldn’t imagine her standing there watching a man die, slowly, from an agonizing injury.

  “No, it was right away. He fell, and he was dead. It wasn’t more than a few seconds, because the first person who got to him said he was gone.”

  “Okay, well, I’m not trying to make you feel better, Jess, but there’s no way in hell a gut-shot kills like that. I’ve studied shooting long enough to know that’s not how you kill a guy instantly. It’s how you put him into incredible agony and eventually, yes, it’s fatal, but he’d be bleeding out and howling in pain and—”

  “I know. I also know it sounds crazy to admit I really never processed it.”

  “You were in shock and afterward, understandably, not thinking about it too hard.”

  “But you’re right. I know from anatomy that what I did wouldn’t kill him like that. A straight shot to the stomach is horrible, and you’d die in under an hour because, well, the stomach acid and all that, to put it in layman’s terms. But my shot went through the side. With proper medical care, he would have survived. That doesn’t make sense, though. He did die. So what are we suggesting? That the bullets were laced with poison?”

  Declan gave a short laugh. “That only happens in bad movies. The only answer is that someone else did something to him. I know it seems like a long shot—you coincidentally shoot a dying man or someone injects him as he falls—but this guy had over a million bucks on him. A million bucks of dirty
money. He was probably there to do a handoff. My guess? Someone in that coffee shop killed him. But it wasn’t you.”

  She went quiet, thinking. “The guy who attacked me said it was an inside job. I thought he meant the theft.”

  “Probably not.”

  She turned in his arms to look at him. “So now what?”

  “Well, the ideal answer would be that we find the killer and turn him in, but if we do that, there’s still the matter of a cover-up and the money. So, all I can suggest, as lame as it sounds, is that we stick to our plan. You finish your course. I wrap up as best I can at the club. We take off to Phoenix for a few weeks, and if we don’t lose your stalker, then we consider tackling this head on.” He pulled her tighter against him. “But the main thing is? You didn’t kill anyone, Jess.”

  “The shot could still have been fatal—”

  “If he didn’t get medical attention, I know. But he would have. You’d have made sure of that. You—” He pressed his lips to her. “Didn’t.” Another kiss. “Kill.” Another. “Anyone.”

  She threw her arms around him and cried with relief.

  ‡

  One week later, Jess had wrapped up her intensive and they were preparing to leave. There’d been no sign of her stalker. Either he believed her about the money or he didn’t want to tangle with Declan. Maybe a little of both.

  They hadn’t heard from Chandler either. The police had called shortly after their first visit to tell her Chandler was going home for the summer break, having apparently been encouraged to decide he didn’t need to take summer classes after all.

  There was still the bag of money, though. When Declan came into the living room, she had it out and was staring into the bag.

  “Yeah, we’d better take that,” he said. “Maybe you can figure out an easier way to give it away in the city.”

  “What if I gave it to you?” she asked without looking at him.

  “Sure, I’ll carry it out.”

  “I mean, what if I gave it to you. So you could take Ciaran this summer. Before his next school term.”

  He went still, his gaze shuttering. “I don’t need—”