Heartbreak Hero

by Frances Housden

  Impatience crawling up the back of his neck and down his sleeve, set his fingertips drumming on the counter as a massive guy the width of a Humvee jeep blocked his view. With a slickness at odds with his size the guy moved on past, while the woman following slowed. Awareness pushed his something’s-wrong button.

  Dressed in red, the blonde wore a minuscule dress that drew the eye to the length of her legs. He couldn’t see past her, but her subtle shoulder movements told him her hands were busy.

  Grabbing the sodas, he charged up the aisle.

  “Sir, your change!”

  “Keep it,” he grunted without a backward glance.

  Heat! Pain! Ngaire jumped backward as the jade mere burned through both T-shirt and day pack into her skin.

  Crunch! Her heel came down on someone’s foot.

  “Ow!” She twirled around, hands reaching to catch a vision of red silk and big gold hair

  “Jeez, I’m so-o-o sorry. I didn’t know anyone was behind me. Is it bad? It sounded bad. Do you want to sit down? Let me find you a seat.” Her glance dithered between the blonde’s face and the open-toed sandals with mile-high heels that offered no protection.

  “Take it easy, hon, I’m okay. Honest.” A smooth, honey-colored hand, red-tipped, batted at the air between them. “Just gimme a second to catch my breath.”

  Her longstanding friendship with Leena Kowolski, “the best damn nail technician in San Francisco,”—Leena’s words, not her own—let her put a price on the nails.

  The likeness between her friend and the woman wasn’t confined to a great manicure. Both their hair colorists did a top-notch job. Ngaire experienced a pang of homesickness.

  “Ah, good.” Leena’s doppelgänger sighed. “My circulation’s coming back.”

  “That’s great news in anyone’s language.”

  She caught Kel’s frown as he picked his way toward her, carrying two cans of soda. Suddenly she was reading his mind. Two accidents in one day, and those things travel in threes.

  A wealth of weary experience gathered in the creases round the blonde’s baby blues. Leena’s eyes still carried a youthful expectancy that something terrific lay round the next corner, or the next. This woman’s knew it wasn’t true.

  “Are you sure I can’t find you somewhere to sit?”

  “Sure, I’m positive. But hey, you’re American, huh?”

  “Yeah, San Francisco.”

  “Get outta here! Me, too. I moved there last year.”

  “Small world.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “You two know each other?” Kel had arrived. “Everything okay?”

  “No and no. I stepped back on…” Ngaire hesitated while she waited for the blonde to introduce herself.

  “Myrna. But I’m feeling swell now. No need to worry.”

  “Can we get you anything?” Kel asked. “Ice?” Uh-oh, he didn’t sound sincere. The aggressive slant to his shoulders wasn’t lessened by his grip on two blatantly pink cans in his fists.

  “No, I gotta go, my sweetie is waiting for me. He wants us to watch the city lights from outside on the top deck.” Myrna backed away from him, slipping around Ngaire as she spoke. “You two have a nice evening,” she said, lifting perfectly curved eyebrows.

  Turning, Ngaire watched her meet up with a dark gorilla of a guy, all hair and shoulders. Heads together, with Myrna flicking at his dark suit lapel, they spoke for a second before King Kong turned on his heel and thrust his body through the opening with a smoothness that belied his bulk, leaving Myrna to trot after him.

  Kel’s mouth flattened, his gaze narrowing as it followed the unusual-looking pair. “Let’s sit down. You can tell me what happened.”

  Ngaire sat. “I stepped back without looking and squished her toes with my big feet.” Who would believe the truth?

  “Maybe you should check your day pack.”

  “My day pack? Why?”

  “Make sure she didn’t filch anything.” He clenched his jaw, setting his chin at a stubborn angle that indicated he didn’t expect to hear her say no.

  It was just his way of making sure she hadn’t been robbed. She could feel the weight of the only thing she had of value inside, her million-dollar murder weapon, but she checked, anyway, to keep him sweet, flipping open the tabs with the bag on her knee, its contents hidden. “I seem to remember the word paranoid being mentioned when I floated the idea that you might be following me.”

  “This isn’t paranoia, it’s caution.” He tipped his head back to drink his soda and watching the way his throat moved made her insides turn somersaults.

  Her wallet was tucked next to the scarf she’d wrapped around the mere, and though short, her nails marked the leather. “And what does that make me?”

  “For someone purporting to come from San Francisco, I’d say it made you naive.” The Velcro tabs made a small quiet sound as she refastened them. Seemed she couldn’t win with Kel.

  Not that she wanted him to see her as aggressive. Hapkido came naturally, like a baby’s first breath. But a succession of distinctly wary male friends had her convinced that some of them would rather have remained in ignorance.

  “Is everything there?”

  “Yes. I’m not dumb. I cut my eyeteeth a long time ago. Though I admit to being thrown off balance. She’s just like my friend Leena.”

  His lips curved at one corner. “And that’s why you squished her toes? Do you always stand on your friend’s feet?”

  Whew! She’d rather make him laugh than think her an idiot. She picked up her soda. “I’m actually very kind to my friends.”

  He lifted his can toward hers. “Cheers, friend.”

  Pink aluminum bumped softly; their glances clashed and burned. His eyes darkened to hot coals that lit flames low down in her belly. Out of an achingly long moment, she re-discovered the blinding sensation of recognition she’d felt when she saw him on the other side of a pile of luggage that wouldn’t stay still. It rocked her soul then, as it did now.

  They were passing his door, moving on to hers. The skin on Kel’s nape prickled as if tiny feet walked across it. Make that giant clodhoppers. Someone was in his room. Chaly? He would have called.

  Ngaire stopped outside her door. “Early start tomorrow.” He began excusing himself. “We should call it a night.”

  “If that’s what you want.” She gave him an opening a blind man could see, but he didn’t dare take it.

  Her chin lifted as she stared without blinking. A question written in eyes so blue he had to be mad not to jump in and drown. “I’ll give you a knock at 6:00 a.m. to make sure you’re up.”

  A flicker of conscience zapped him like a gnat with fangs. “Come here.” He pulled her close, his big hands spanning her ribs. A wince tightened her expression as the bruises under his palms went into spasm. “You’re pretty sore now, but a soak in a Rotorua hot pool will cure what ails you. We’ll be stopping there tomorrow night.” Finishing what he’d started, he brushed his lips across her forehead, making sure the strain on his face was gone before her eyes fluttered open again.

  He took a step back. It didn’t dilute her scent in his head. Part of him wanted to recklessly say, “The hell with it,” and barge through the door with her in his arms to check how easily her cotton sheets caught fire. The sane part wanted to know who was in his room.

  “You go on in. I’ll wait till you’ve got the light on and checked the room.”

  She slipped the key card into the lock. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

  “No.” He swore he could hear the question frame in her mind, and cut it off midflight. He was sick of the lies, yet how could he tell her “You top the list of people I don’t trust to tell me the truth.” He settled for “I’m a quick study. That’s one lesson my job’s taught me well.”

  The door was ajar, held open by her foot. “I guess that’s where we differ.”

  Looking past her into the empty room, he responded with a careless shrug. “That’s okay
, you’re young, you still have time. The room looks okay. Now, be a good girl, go check the bathroom as well.”

  “I hope never to live long enough for that lesson. Good night!” With that she shut the door in his face. He waited, listening, knowing she would do as he’d asked, knowing whether it suited her or not, she’d taken her first course in Distrust 101.

  Kel heard a murmur of voices, not what was being said, though he was sure there was more than one person inside. Either that or the maid had left the TV entertaining an empty room.

  With a quick glance left and right, he checked the corridor. It was safe to remove his gun from its holster. Remembering Gordie’s stab wound, he thought wistfully of body armor as the Smith & Wesson Chief’s Special Airweight was tucked in the back of his waistband, hidden by his shirt.

  Nothing could be done about the lock clicking as the key card released the catch and a green light dawned above the handle. He eased open the door. The lights were on. A pair of large feet crossed at the ankles on the end of long legs stuck out into the room. A big guy, but then so was he. Though he opened the door wider, the legs didn’t budge, which meant the guy was either at ease with breaking into his room, or already dead, instead of about to be. A growl rumbling at the back of his throat roughened his welcome. “Making yourself at home?”

  A woman’s voice slid past the noise of the door shuddering against the wall. “Welcome home, bro. We thought you’d never get here.” His sister, Jo, had made herself comfortable, back propped up by the bed pillows, legs stretched full length across the silver-gray bedcover, shoes and all, and a twist of gold paper lay at her elbow on the nightstand, all she’d left of his pillow mint.

  Damn, but it was good to see her. Not that he would give her the information or the satisfaction. The guy with the feet had to be his new brother-in-law. The door closed behind him as he said, “Lucky for me I wasn’t bringing a woman up here. Finding a female already in possession of the bed is inclined to put them off.”

  Jo swung her feet onto the thick carpet. “Nice to see you, too, Kel.” With heels on, when she stood, Jo was easily as tall as him. Whatever else the Jellic family had scrimped on, Grandma Glamuzina had made sure they never went short of food.

  After they’d hugged as if it had been a million years since they’d last seen each other instead of five, he asked, “Are you ever going to introduce me or are you ashamed of your brother?”

  “This is my husband, Rowan.”

  She giggled, something he didn’t remember her doing much of when they were kids, though most of his memories of home hit a wall about the time their father committed suicide. Everything that went before then had to have been a lie.

  “I still get a glow when I say that word, husband. Our first anniversary isn’t until Christmas Eve.”

  Rowan unfolded himself from the chair and made Jo look little. Kel guessed he would have to get used to being topped by at least two inches as he took his new brother-in-law’s outstretched hand. For all his size, there was nothing aggressive about the guy. No trying to get the better of the grip as their fists locked. Rowan McQuaid Stanhope’s smile confirmed he meant it when he said, “Pleased to meet you at last.”

  “Likewise. I never thought I would meet a guy who could make Jo blush.” Teasing his sister was something he did automatically.

  Rowan turned to his wife and signaled in Kel’s direction with an explicit jerk of his chin. “This one of the ones who put bugs down your back?”

  “God! Don’t tell me she still hasn’t forgiven us for that?”

  “She hasn’t, but I don’t mind thanking you. It has made for some interesting searches under her shirt if she even suspects there are spiders around.” He winked at his wife, who blushed again and turned on her heel, throwing Rowan a coy look over her shoulder before sitting on the end of the bed.

  Kel tried to remember if his brief marriage had ever been that way, or had Carly always been dissatisfied, and counted the touch of his murderous hands on her fragile skin as the last straw. He shrugged away the thoughts. He ought to be pleased for his sister instead of coloring his emotions green with envy. “I don’t suppose there’s much point in asking how you got into my room, sis?”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I couldn’t find out which hotel you were in or your room number. And the lock was a cinch.”

  “So what’s the occasion, since your anniversary is almost a month away?” He threw out the question like a masochist, pleased the answer would cause pain. That the day would end as it had started when he’d foolishly called Jo using the hotel phone.

  “I want to tell you what we’re doing about Dad.”

  “What’s to do about him, he’s dead already. Nothing left but the stuff the worms didn’t want.” His stomach curled at the image and he could see from his sister’s face the throw-away line had had the same effect on her.

  Rowan, on the other hand, was wearing a frown that shattered Kel’s first impression that his brother-in-law was just a big likable lug. “We’ve been steadily working through a list of cops he worked with and criminals he sent down. So far we’ve found nothing to confirm Milo Jellic was involved with drugs.”

  “Oh, sure, and they’re going to come right out and tell you. It doesn’t work that way.” A pain filled his chest, big enough to come right out and swallow him. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want to know. “Why don’t you just get the hell on out of here and leave me alone?”

  Rowan gained another two inches on Kel, and his anger was evident in his voice. “Don’t you dare talk to your sister that way.”

  His tone stretched up to meet Jo’s husband’s, no matter that between them the walls in the room began to rock. “I’ll talk to her any way I damn well like. I’ve know her longer than you. When Jo sets her mind on something she’s like a dog with a bone in her teeth and she won’t let go.”

  Jo’s hand on Rowan’s sleeve saved him from the punch he deserved. “No,” she said softly, “leave him, Rowan. He’s hurting.”

  Even though his head throbbed, he wasn’t ready to give in. “That isn’t pain, it’s indifference.”

  “You always loved Dad the most. That’s why you took it so badly.” She was trying to soothe him.

  It didn’t work. “Don’t give me any of that psychological claptrap they teach you women at the police academy. I never loved him. You idolized him and that’s why you can’t see the truth that’s staring you in the eye. He was a drug dealer, and I’ve been cleaning up his kind of crap most of my adult life.”

  “Shush…”

  “Don’t shush me!”

  Rowan caught his arm. “No, Jo’s right, someone’s knocking.”

  The tapping on the connecting doors grew louder, more impatient, as Ngaire called out, “Kel! You okay in there?”

  He walked over to the door but left it closed, glad he hadn’t had time to set his equipment up. “Shoot, yeah, I’m all right. I turned the TV up too loud. Sat on the remote and it went off full blast. Sorry, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Kel listened to the other door close, then leaned against his own, catching the speculative gleam in his baby sister’s eyes. Like a man of war preparing for boarders he braced himself for the onslaught.

  He knew the Jo of old. Knew her face as well as his own. Take away the long dark hair, the full lips, and add a five o’clock shadow and it was his own. The only thing that ran true about Milo Jellic had been his seed. And at this late date Kel knew he couldn’t let the old bastard come between him and the only people he cared for.

  Loved.

  Who loved him.

  “So-o-o, who’s the woman? She your partner?”

  He pushed away from the door, away from the chance of being overheard. “Partner in what? Crime? You may have noticed she’s not in my bed.”

  He heard Rowan laugh, then try to stifle it with a large fist as he returned to the tub chair. Kel gathered he’d been married to Jo long enough to know what to expect, long e
nough to know the crisis was over. His earlier analogy might have been on the insensitive side, but once started, Jo never gave up. And she would know a lie if he told one. She hated lies. And his world was based on them. All flimflam and disguises.

  When the news had come out about their father, Jo had been the old man’s staunchest ally, and blasted all the stories to hell and gone as untrue.

  “Ratchett!” She cursed his answer as he knew she would. “I’m more than fourteen, don’t answer my question with another. Who is she and what are you really doing in Auckland? Don’t think I haven’t seen all the gizmos you’re carrying with you.”

  “Huh, I guess I should have known you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  “It didn’t take much figuring out that you’re hiding a gun inside your waistband. Can’t tell you the model, but I know it’s smaller than my Glock. I don’t want to be left cleaning up any of your messes once you’re gone.”

  “Nobody likes a smart-ass!” He dropped his voice another notch. “But you got me, I am carrying.”

  He pulled the Smith & Wesson out. “I suppose you want to see my ID as well?” he asked, handing it over for Jo’s inspection.

  “Don’t be an idiot.” She weighed his piece in her hand, then passed it to Rowan. “What do you think, lover? A bit light for my taste.”

  His brother-in-law’s hand nearly swallowed it up. “Kind of sissy, don’t you think, peaches?” Rowan tempered his insult with a wink as he returned the gun.

  “I usually wear it at my ankle, but I doubt if they make any your size.”

  “So are you going to let us in on why you’re here?”

  You couldn’t not trust a guy who could swap insults one moment and freeze your ass off with a hard, cold look the next, especially if he was family. “I’m working undercover. The girl next door’s a drug courier that I’m following.”

  “Looks like you are doing more than following from where I sit,” Jo chipped in from her seat on the bed.

  “I told you I’m undercover, peaches.”

  His use of her pet name made no odds. “Okay, so why don’t you arrest her instead of breaking her heart?” Jo waited and faked him out with a stare. Had she really guessed how things were going with him and Ngaire from a brief conversation?