Burn It Up

by Cara McKenna

  “My dad’s going to get the security cameras turned back on tonight,” Miah told Abilene. “They’re hooked up to motion-sensor lights, but don’t panic if it goes bright outside in the middle of the night—could easily be the barn cats or a coyote or any other thing. Just tell me or Case and we’ll go out and investigate. Okay?”

  “Sounds good.” Sounds terrifying, her expression corrected.

  “Anyhow, not much we can do for the moment.”

  “Except wait for him to call,” Casey said.

  Miah nodded. “Yeah. There’s always that.”

  Casey eyed Miah’s beer. “You done with work for the night?”

  “Believe it or not.”

  “Would you do me a favor? Hang with these two for ten minutes while I grab a shower?”

  “Sure. And I checked with my dad—I can handle things here in the morning while you run your errands.” Casey had texted that afternoon to ask about it. “Only until about eight, though.”

  “That’s fine—I just need to catch Vince before he goes to work, then swing by the post office. Thanks. And for this shower,” he added. “It’s in everybody’s best interest, I promise.” He grabbed his bag from beside the couch and headed back upstairs to the guest wing, leaving Miah alone with the ladies.

  He couldn’t help but notice the way Abilene’s gaze followed Casey up the steps, and prayed it was innocent apprehension at watching her bodyguard disappearing out of sight. He loved his friend, but the last thing this girl needed was to develop feelings for Fortuity’s prodigal son. Kid had come a long way since he’d skipped town, and he was a step up from James Ware, no doubt, but he wasn’t exactly ready to take on the commitment this girl would require.

  Still, far be it from Miah to tell anybody how to conduct their love lives.

  I’ll do my damnedest to keep her safe from one criminal, but if she’s got it bad for Casey, that’s straight-up above my pay grade.

  • • •

  At five thirty the next morning, Casey woke to the buzz of his cell in his jeans pocket.

  He was in Abilene’s bed, and he’d worn pants to sleep for two very good reasons—so his phone’s alarm wouldn’t wake anybody, and so he wouldn’t get any more reckless ideas, pressed up against the girl in his shorts. And he was pressed up against her. Had been all night, except for when the opposite had been true, and she’d been hugging her warm body to his back, her breasts pressing gently with every breath. She’d dropped off the second they’d settled in, but Casey had probably lain there for two hours, caught in a calm persuasion of restlessness, pinned as always, lately, in some territory that lay between protective and horny. And since he’d run into Ware, the former seemed to have only ignited the latter. Still, no time to panic about what had gone down, this time—they’d both agreed, it was what it was, and nothing more. He’d made her absolutely zero promises, so he had no worries about breaking any. Plus overthinking it all was a luxury he didn’t have this morning.

  He eased the covers away, slid his arm out from under hers. February had never felt so damn cold as it did just now, leaving this bed.

  Thirty minutes later, he was parking his bike a couple blocks down the street from his mom’s house. Maybe it was naive, his hoping Ware didn’t already know where his family lived, but why take the chance?

  He didn’t like this feeling. He’d experienced plenty of paranoia in his old line of work, but back then it had come bundled up with adrenaline. It had been pleasurable, in a way, that fear of getting caught. But there was too much at stake now, way more than just his own skin.

  He grabbed the LifeMap package out of his cargo box and walked up the road.

  Vince left for work at six thirty, so the kitchen light was on, predictably. Casey knocked at the side door and Vince pulled it in, nodding a greeting.

  “Morning, cocksucker. Ready to get swabbed?” Casey heard the TV droning in the den, and no surprise—his mom was up at five and asleep by nine, every goddamn day like a rule of physics. Kim must’ve still been in bed.

  Vince eyed the box as Casey opened it and set three clear cups on the kitchen table. Kind of like extra-narrow prescription bottles, with a plastic-sealed, one-ended Q-tip-looking thing inside, and a label printed with a barcode and each of their first names—Casey, Vincent, Deirdre.

  “What’s this going to entail, exactly?” Vince asked.

  Casey pulled out the instructions and read them aloud. “Remove swab from sleeve. Rinse mouth with warm water before collecting sample. Swab the inside of one cheek with firm, up-and-down motions. Close swab inside provided cup immediately. One sample per cup only,” he read aggressively, the final step set in all caps.

  “Easy enough,” Vince said, and the two of them swished their mouths out at the sink. The whole thing was done inside a minute.

  “Cool. Now just sign this paper,” Casey said, finding the form with Vince’s name at the top.

  He considered asking Vince to walk their mom through the paperwork and the swab, but he knew deep down that was cowardly, so he gathered the form and the cup and a glass of water and headed for the den.

  Sure as the sun rising, she was awake, glued to an infomercial. Or to the glow of the screen, anyhow—only God knew if she was actually retaining any of what was flashing by.

  “Morning, Mom. You sleep okay?”

  Her gaze moved slowly to his face. Here was where things turned either heartwarming or heartbreaking—fifty-fifty chance, lately.

  “Good morning,” she said slowly, and finally added, “Casey.”

  A wave of relief rolled through him at that. More and more, she recognized him. It was progress you couldn’t discount, not when the first time she’d seen him after he’d come back to town, she’d shot him in the leg, thinking he was a burglar.

  “Can you do me a favor, Mom? It’ll only take a minute.”

  “Oh,” she said spacily, slowly, attention drifting back to the screen, “I suppose I could.”

  “Great. Just take a drink from this,” he said, handing her the glass. He let her drain it in a half dozen lethargic swallows. “Great. Now I just need you to open your mouth real wide so I can rub this Q-tip on your cheek, okay?”

  “Q-tip?”

  “It’s for the dentist,” he lied. What was he supposed to say? You probably don’t realize it, but you’ve gone completely batshit and now I need to figure out if I’m doomed to follow in your footsteps. Open wide. “Won’t take a second.”

  “If you say so.”

  She opened her mouth and he held her cheek, her skin cool and papery, a little eerie. Man, she’d been beautiful when she’d still been lucid. Prettiest woman in town, everybody had agreed. Now she was just a ghost, floating through the days with her brain half-gone, the rest of it lost to whatever was on the TV or outside the window, her once-red hair faded almost completely to white. Casey checked his own head for grays at least once a week, thinking they were as good an indicator of his chances at insanity as any. So far, none.

  “Perfect,” he said, sealing the swab. “And now I just need you to sign this paper, down here. To tell the dentist that he can check your Q-tip, okay?”

  “The dentist?” She looked perplexed but took the pen willingly enough and signed her name, the signature a faint, loose shadow of its old self. How many times Casey had practiced and faked that signature, he cared not to guess. Probably as many times as he’d been sent home with detention slips.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Come and watch the news,” she said in that unnerving ethereal voice, and patted the cushion beside hers. “There’s so much happening in the world.”

  He eyed the screen, the logo of the shopping channel in the bottom corner. “Wish I could, but I have to get to the post office, then back to work. But Nita will be here soon. She likes the news.” Or barring that, great deals on faux-sapphire jewelry.

  “Yes. Nita.”

  He bent down and kissed her cheek, the sensation leaving him cautiously proud these days�
��not as unsettled as it had at first, when he’d come home. He was growing used to how her skin felt now, how she smelled. His mother was gone and she was never coming back, but he could do his duty, pay his respects to the living, walking effigy she’d become. “Bye.”

  In the kitchen, he sealed the cups and papers up in the padded plastic envelope that had come with the kit, preprinted with express postage. Last step, drop them off in a mailbox. Last step until the time came to hear the results. He swallowed, stomach souring. Blamed it on two cups of black coffee and no food.

  “So when do you hear?” Vince asked.

  “Soon. They’ll schedule a call after this makes it down to fucking Palo Alto.” Casey tossed the instructions and the scraps of plastic wrap and the box in the trash, then made for the door. “Later, motherfucker. Say hi to Nita and Kim for me.”

  “Will do.”

  He pulled up at the post office, said a little prayer to a god he had zero right to be asking any favors of, and dropped the box into the slot. And with that, there was nothing more to be done on that front except wait.

  As he hit the road once more and aimed himself east, he couldn’t say if he’d expected to feel lighter or heavier with that package turned over to fate. What he did feel for sure, though, was surprise. Surprise that he’d just pulled the trigger like that, when he was pretty certain that even a week ago he’d have found a hundred reasons to procrastinate on the task and let that package collect dust on some shelf. Things had changed, in recent days. He’d changed, though in exactly what ways, he couldn’t yet say.

  He had two phones on him this morning—his relatively public one that the Desert Dogs and Abilene had the number for, then the shady untraceable one that Emily and his other bygone business contacts—and now James Ware—had. And he knew which was ringing now from the mere pitch of the buzzing at his hip. If it was Ware, the guy had one fucking massive nerve on him.

  Casey swerved to a hairy stop at the shoulder of the quiet highway and killed his engine, whipped the phone out. Private, as always.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Ware. I’m ready to talk.”

  Casey laughed into the bright morning light, steam rising. “Oh, are you? That’s fucking hilarious, considering how shy you got last night.”

  “’Scuse me?”

  “Who told you where she was staying?”

  “Listen, Grossier, I got no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just following your fucking orders here. You going to facilitate this shit or what?”

  “You tell me which motherfucker told you where she’s at, and maybe we’ll find out.”

  “Listen,” Ware said again, voice jabbing like a finger in the sternum. “I got fuck-all clue what you think I got up to last night, but whatever it is, you’ve got it wrong. Now, you tell me how this is going to work, and I’ll play by your rules. Just let me talk to her. I’m way better at threats than begging, but hey, I’ll pucker up and kiss your ass and say pretty please, if that’s what it’s going to goddamn take.”

  Casey frowned, a touch upended. Stay cool. Don’t fuck up. Don’t mention the ranch. “Fine. A phone call. You call this number at nine o’clock sharp, tonight, and I’ll have her there.” Arguing with the guy himself wasn’t getting anybody any closer to figuring out his game, anyhow.

  “Fine,” Ware spat. “Nine o’clock.”

  “Fine,” Casey echoed, and ended the call. He bellowed a cuss up into the blue sky, resisted the urge to slam that fucking phone down against the asphalt.

  Chapter 12

  The sky outside the guest room was bright blue as Abilene’s eyes blinked open, the day already in full swing. Her stomach rumbled. Best to get herself fed before the baby got the same idea.

  She dressed Mercy in a fleece onesie and lugged her out onto the landing, smelling bacon. No doubt any leftovers would be cold by now, any eggs already devoured, but a cup of coffee and some toast would be welcome. And some company.

  Casey had woken her when he’d risen at five, but she’d pretended to be asleep. She’d strained for a muttered cuss, for any tiny sign that he might have regretted waking up in her bed, but nothing. He’d just slipped out quietly to take care of his errands, leaving an all-too-fleeting warm patch on his side of the mattress.

  She smiled to herself as she came down the steps. Coffee was nice, toast was good, but neither held the skinniest little stump of a birthday candle to the feel of a warm man hugging you through the night. She wouldn’t get attached to the sensation, but if ever in her life she’d needed to feel that, this week was the time.

  “Hey.” The voice made her jump as she passed through the den, and Casey sat up on the couch, revealing himself. Her shock must’ve shown. “Sorry. Morning.”

  “Morning. You done with all your stuff you had to do?”

  He stood, nodded. Man, that body already looked different—already felt like hers, calling to her from these few paces away. He closed the distance, stroking his hand over the baby’s head. Abilene knew exactly what that rough palm felt like, and yearned for a little taste of contact. Just a whisper of his fingertips across her cheek. Anything. Junkie.

  “Glad you got to sleep in,” he said. “You ready for breakfast?”

  “Coffee, for sure.”

  He waved an arm to tell her to go ahead of him, and she did, feeling shy.

  “Sit tight.” He gestured toward the kitchen table. “I’ll make it. Cream and three sugars.”

  She smiled at his back, chanced flirtation. “Can’t resist a man who knows how I take my coffee.”

  “You think that now, but I’m about to wreck your day.”

  Her smile wilted. “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t reply. He came back with a mug and set it at her elbow. Then he sat himself, his cool expression casting that warm glow right out of her, like a blanket yanked from her shoulders.

  A million awful scenarios rushed through her mind, the worst of them undoubtedly being that he was about to tell her she needed to go somewhere else. Far from this lovely old oasis of a house, maybe even far from Casey. Maybe into an actual safe house, into protective custody, where no doubt some authorities would be wanting to know more about her identity and her past than she was willing to share.

  “What? Tell me.”

  Casey rapped the tabletop with his knuckles. Sighed. “He called.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t expected that, not after last night. Talk about gall. “What did he have to say?”

  “He denied coming by, no surprise. I wanted to tell him to forget it all. Forget getting to see you after that—” He caught whatever cuss would’ve followed just in time. “After what he pulled last night. But I had to calm myself down. Remember that nothing about this is going to get any better until we know where he stands. And the fact is, he’s likely to be straight with you, not any of us.”

  “Probably.”

  “Maybe angry, maybe a little scary, but I’m willing to bet he’ll tell you what’s on his mind. You know him well enough to read between the lines? Sense if he’s upset enough to try to hurt you?”

  “I’d like to think so . . . But I’ve never given him this big a reason to be pissed before.” She touched the baby’s head fretfully, wondering how bad a swear “pissed” was. Probably small potatoes compared to the stuff Casey routinely let slip.

  “I told him to call again at nine tonight, and that you’d speak to him. It’s really the only option. You up for that?”

  “No. But I’ll get myself there, all the same.” She didn’t dare give James any more cause to spill his concerns to Casey or anybody else. The illusion of her innocence had never been so crucial as it was now. Being brave was the only option, lousy as she was at it. There was so much more riding on all this than her reputation, she thought, jiggling the baby when she fussed. There was the safety of everyone around her, of course, but beyond that . . . She owed it to her daughter to be stronger. Owed it to her to be the protective female role model Abilene hadn’t had herself
.

  Casey swung his legs over the bench. “I’ll get a bottle warmed up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You want me with you, when you talk to him?” he asked as he measured the formula.

  “No.” No, definitely not.

  She thought back to this morning and last night—to every time Casey had shifted in the night and roused her, every moment she’d gotten to spend next to him. She hadn’t felt that secure in ages. Maybe not since before the great scandal of her teen years. Maybe not since she’d been a little girl, totally oblivious to sex. Even then there’d been the specter of an angry God hanging over her . . . But, man, had she ever come a long way from those original sins, from stealing mints from her grandma’s purse or whispering newly gleaned swearwords to herself, trying on what it must feel like to be a bad kid. If only she’d known just how bad she’d turn out . . .

  Casey heated the formula and passed it off, sitting close as Abilene coaxed the baby to suckle.

  “You scared?” he asked her.

  “Yeah. I am. But I can’t put it off anymore.” After she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d been so frightened of what James would say, of what he might threaten, she’d avoided him for far too long. It had been easy to, when he’d been locked up a hundred miles away. That wasn’t an option now—he knew where to find her. And it wasn’t an option going forward, not if she wanted to keep the promise she’d made to herself and be a better person for Mercy. The old Abilene ran and hid. The new one had to find the courage to keep her feet planted and face her mistakes.

  “No matter what he says,” Casey said, gaze on the nursing baby, “you’ll feel better, after. Just having it done with.”

  “I hope so.” Provided what he said wasn’t, I’m gonna get our child taken away from you. She held Mercy a little tighter.

  “You will,” Casey said. “Uncertainty’s always worse than whatever reality you’re putting off facing.” He looked thoughtful a moment, then spoke softly. “Just know that whatever happens, and no matter how bad it might be . . . If he turns out to be a monster, like the worst possible scenario you could imagine, just know he’ll be taken care of.”