by Wilde, Lori
Feeling awkward, she sat up and smoothed her hair.
“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry about that. I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. I know you don’t want to get involved with me.”
She wanted to reassure him, to tell him that everything was all right, but that simply wasn’t true. The fact was, Tucker should not be in the same apartment with her. Not when their hormones were out of control.
He needed to leave, but she couldn’t throw him out. Not in the snow and cold. They’d tried that last night, and it hadn’t worked.
He loosened his grip on her, and July scooted away. As she moved, her hand contacted with something hard in his waistband.
Something metal and cold.
July gulped as she recognized the outline of a gun underneath his shirt. The implications hit her with the impact of a traffic accident.
Her heart dropped to her feet. Her breath came in hot, ragged gasps. Was Tucker a criminal? Why else would he be concealing a handgun?
Don’t jump to conclusions. He’s homeless. He probably has it for protection.
Still, the truth was glaring. She did not know him. He could be anyone, really.
July stepped back. Until this moment, she had clung to the idea that Tucker was not a dangerous guy. But the gun in his waistband said she’d been a fool.
Confused, frightened, she knew she had to get away from him. Avoiding his gaze, she inched toward the front door.
“Until the storm breaks, I’m going to Edna’s,” she said. “You can stay here.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll leave.”
“It’s no problem.”
How could she have been so mistaken about Tucker? This was so much worse than what had happened with Dexter. Once again, she’d been trying to change someone, and her efforts had exploded in her face.
But maybe you did change him, a voice at the back of her mind whispered. She’d brought him out of the cold and showed him kindness. She’d gotten him to open up to her.
Who knew? Maybe he was ready to repent, to mend his ways? To turn himself in and start life fresh. Could she truly give up on him at this point?
July shook her head. That was the sort of Pollyanna attitude that had landed her in this situation in the first place. If she had kept her nose to herself when she saw him digging in the dumpster, she would not be in this fix.
Yet how could she have done things any differently?
She’d seen a man in distress and related to his suffering. Even if he was involved in illegal activities, Tucker was in pain. Hurt dwelled in his voice, in the set of his jaw, in the depths of those piercing brown eyes. Who was she to judge anyone?
On the other hand, she’d been a naive fool to invite him into her home. An addle-brained do-gooder charged up over a handsome man in need. The memory of her mother’s ordeal, the storm’s untimely arrival, her own longing for male companionship had contributed to her idiotic decision to get embroiled with Tucker.
Yes. Her meddlesome tendencies had launched her into a sticky position. When would she ever learn? Now she was leaving her apartment to a man she knew nothing about.
Oh, what to do? This inner turmoil was the reason she needed to retreat and clarify her feelings. “I better get some things together.”
“I should be the one to leave.”
“No.”
The ensuing silence was louder than a shotgun blast. Tucker cleared his throat but said nothing.
Disoriented, July fled into her bedroom. She slammed the door closed behind her and collapsed across the bed. Covering her head with her pillow, she sucked in great gobs of air.
What on earth was happening to her? How could she explain the emotions that zipped through her every time she looked at Tucker? Why did she have this irresistible desire to keep kissing him when she knew he was not good for her?
She had to get out of here. Now.
* * *
“Do you want to talk about it, dear?” Edna asked, wrapping her housecoat more tightly around her waist. Pink sponge rollers graced her gray hair, and elephant slippers encased her feet.
“No.” July sat on Edna’s sofa, staring blindly at the television.
“Come on, where’s that hundred-watt smile of yours?” Edna plunked down beside her and patted July’s thigh.
“I’ve given up being cheerful,” July mumbled.
“Oh, goodness’ sake, it’s not that bad, is it?”
“Worse.”
“Now, now,” Edna chided. “Why don’t we have a cup of hot cocoa? I promise everything will look better in the morning.”
Edna was wrong. No amount of sleep could change the devastating discovery that Tucker carried a concealed weapon. And nothing could alter the terrible realization that somehow she placed her trust in the wrong man. To top it off, he was ensconced in her apartment while she was relegated to hiding out at Edna’s.
How had she allowed this to happen? She’d reminded herself to hold back her emotions. She had consciously remembered Dexter and the mistakes she’d made in that relationship. Still, nothing had prepared her for the overwhelming power of Tucker’s kisses.
Get over it, July.
She was falling into the oldest trap in the book. A trap she’d stumbled into before—trying to change a man. He was what he was. He might even be a criminal. He was accustomed to living on the streets. It would be like taking a tiger into her home and expecting him to lap milk from her palm without biting off her hand in the process.
Fool.
While she’d been blithely trying to convince Tucker that he could turn his life around, he’d been using her, taking up residence in her apartment. Truth was, she’d fallen for a pretty face, and she’d made up a romantic story about him to please herself, ignoring all reality.
“July?” Edna’s voice jerked her back to the moment.
“Uh-huh?” She blinked and stared at her friend.
“I’m worried about you.” Edna’s familiar features knit into a frown. “This isn’t like you. Do you have a fever?” Edna laid a palm on July’s forehead.
“I’m fine,” July snapped, irritated.
Edna drew back in surprise. July could see she’d hurt the elderly woman’s feelings. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be so grumpy.”
“You definitely are not yourself, my dear.” Edna clicked her tongue in dismay. “And if my suspicions are correct, I’d say the fault of your sour mood lies at Tucker’s feet.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“How long are you going to let him stay in your apartment?”
“Until this storm abates. Have you heard the weather report? What do they say?”
Edna shook her head. “They’re predicting another front tonight. More snow, with the temperature dropping in the single digits. I tell you, I’ve never seen the weather act so crazy in November.”
Yes, it was as if the skies were conspiring against her, too.
“You could just ask him to leave,” Edna said. “If he’s causing you that much anguish.”
“He’s got no place else to go, Edna.”
“So once again our little July gives up her own comforts for the sake of someone else.” Edna clicked her tongue in disapproval.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” July protested.
“Of course, you do! Whatever gave you the idea that helping other people meant denying your needs?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I think I do. You give love, hoping to receive it in return.”
“Yeah.” July raised her chin. “Maybe so. But I’m beginning to see how stupid I’ve been. Everyone else has been right all along. I do stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. I do meddle. I am nosy. Well, no more! From now on, I’m strictly minding my own business.”
“Now, dear, I think you’re overreacting. Rather than subjugate your entire personality, why don’t you just practice asking for what you need?”
“I don’t need anything,” July
mumbled.
“Yes, you do.”
“Tell me, Edna, I truly don’t know. What do I need?”
“Like everyone else, you need someone to care about you.”
“I’m supposed to walk up to the next guy I’m attracted to and ask him to care about me? Is that it?”
“I think you’re misunderstanding me on purpose,” Edna chided gently. “I mean that when you’re cold, you ask for a blanket rather than offering a blanket to the person you’re with, hoping they’ll extend you a blanket in return. You can’t expect people to read your mind. A lot of folks will simply accept your kindness and generosity without a second thought to what they can do for you.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Does Tucker have any idea what you need?”
July pursed her lips. Maybe Edna had a point. Perhaps she should go back upstairs and tell Tucker what was on her mind—that she felt his gun and feared he was a criminal and she was wanted to hear the truth from his own lips.
“You’re right,” July said, springing off the couch.
“Where are you going, dear?”
“To see Tucker. He’s got a lot of explaining to do.”
Blood strumming through her veins, she put on her shoes and went in search of the man who had turned her world upside down.
13
Tucker had never felt so guilty in his entire life, and that was a whole lot of guilt. Ever since July had gone to stay with Edna, he’d been pacing her apartment, trying to make sense of the emotions blasting him.
Nothing had been happening in the apartment across the courtyard. If there had been some activity at the Stravanos brothers’, he’d have something else to focus on besides July.
What was the matter with him? He didn’t want a relationship anyway. He was a confirmed bachelor. A dyed-in-the-wool loner. A man who traveled solo.
Always.
Forever.
July could talk of second chances, but that was for others. Not cynical cops from the stagnant end of the gene pool.
Frustrated, he clasped his hands behind his back. He needed something to do. Something to occupy him. Something to ease the chronic tenseness knotting his neck muscles. Maybe a round of push-ups would help.
Grunting, Tucker got down on the floor and began doing push-ups in front of the window, keeping one eye on the Stravanos apartment.
He lowered himself to the carpet, his arms flexing with effort. “One,” he counted out loud. He’d been crazy to involve July.
“Two.” What on earth had he been thinking?
“Three.” This setup had been a complete and total fiasco from the beginning.
“Four.” He knew she’d felt his gun. He figured she probably suspected him of being a criminal, and there was nothing he could do to assuage her fears.
“Five.” His breath quickened.
“Six.” He turned his head and glanced out the window. Fresh snow drifted from the sky.
“Seven.” Dammit, why couldn’t he stop thinking about July?
“Eight.” Every time he tried to block her image, it only seemed to make things worse. He visualized her firm little fanny twitching in those tight blue jeans and almost choked.
“Sixteen.” Or he’d see that bubbly smile of hers or hear her light tinkling laughter. His chest heaved with effort.
“Twenty-seven.” He could taste her sweet lips, inhale her lemony scent. He pushed harder, faster, as if by increasing the tempo he could exercise her from his overheated brain.
“Twenty-eight.” Sweat pooled at his neck. His temple veins throbbed.
“Twenty-nine.” His biceps burned, but he kept moving.
“Thirty.” Make your mind blank; focus on the exercises.
Five minutes later…
“One hundred and one.” Ah hell, the push-ups weren’t helping at all. What he really needed was an ice-cold shower.
From the corner of his eye, Tucker glimpsed movement in the courtyard below. Instantly, he scrambled to his feet, his senses on full alert.
Not wanting to be spotted from the ground, he stepped back behind the curtain and peered down.
The harsh weather heralded an early twilight. Already, porch lights shone, cutting weak illuminations through the gray gloom.
His gaze fixed on the ground floor apartment across the way. Tucker blinked and did a double take.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
Leo Stravanos came outside just as July burst from Edna’s apartment, a determined look on her face.
Stravanos said something to her.
She paused and stared at him.
Stravanos motioned her inside his place.
“Don’t go in there!” Tucker exclaimed. “July!”
But of course, she couldn’t hear him.
July said something. Leo’s face darkened, heavier than the flat-bottomed clouds sliding across the horizon. He held the door open wider and stepped aside.
“No! Don’t go inside!” Tucker shouted, rapping his knuckles against the windowpane, desperate to get her attention. At that moment, he couldn’t care less about catching the Stravanos brothers or their boss. He had only one thought on his mind—stopping July from going into that apartment.
But instead of looking up at her window, July walked across the threshold into the lion’s den. And Leo Stravanos slammed the door shut behind her.
Automatically, Tucker’s hand went to the gun in his waistband. His breath came out in a heated rush. Hurry! Hurry! his brain urged.
Fear, hard and relentless, seized his gut and squeezed. Tucker snatched his jacket from the back of July’s rocking chair and struggled into it as he tore down the steps.
In his haste, he slipped on the stairs, slick with fresh ice, and almost fell. Slow down, Haynes. You won’t do her any good with a broken leg.
But he couldn’t heed his own advice. He had no plan other than to save July. Adrenaline shot through him in unrelenting spurts. It was all his fault she was involved in this mess in the first place. What insanity had possessed him to use her as his means of spying on the Stravanos brothers? Angry at himself, Tucker charged like an enraged bull bent on protecting his pasture.
When he reached the ground, he stopped and tried to collect himself and concoct some sort of plan. But he drew a blank.
Darn!
He glanced left, then right. The courtyard lay empty; the storm had everyone hibernating. Sucking in cold air to fortify himself and calm his racing pulse, Tucker drew his gun and eased toward the apartment.
Why had July gone in there? What had he said to her?
The idea of those beefy brothers laying one hand on her sweet curly head had Tucker thinking black, evil thoughts. In that instant, he understood that savage emotion called revenge. If they even scratched her, he’d shred them into tiny pieces with his bare hands and barbecue them over an open pit.
His gun felt cold and comforting in his hand. This was no time for pussyfooting around. If he hadn’t hesitated the last time July faced Leo Stravanos, she wouldn’t be in jeopardy right now. Blood boiling, he strode across the courtyard.
Most of the apartments on the ground floor had their windows shuttered against the cold. Even the Stravanos place had the draperies drawn tight. Only a thin slit remained open. Was it wide enough for a view of the room?
Tucker hunched his shoulders and placed his feet with care as he mounted the snow-covered stoop. Pressing his back against the wall a few yards away from their door, he waited, searching for a plan.
He held his breath. Gripping the gun with both hands, he considered simply kicking in the front door and announcing his presence, Dirty Harry style. Unfortunately, he didn’t know July’s location. The Stravanos brothers could easily seize her as a hostage and accelerate the situation.
The wind gusted, whistling through the metal letter boxes lining the wall near his elbow. Startled, Tucker jerked back.
He was jumpier than a frog in a hot greased skillet.
Feet apart in a
broad stance, knees braced for trouble, he slid toward the window and heard his pulse throbbing in his ears. His stomach quivered, and a knot weighed his throat. July was depending on him. He couldn’t let her down.
Cautiously, he turned and tried to peer through the drapes. He couldn’t see much. Squinting, Tucker tilted his head.
Yes, at this angle he could make out a thick, meaty back. Whether it was Leo or Mikos, he couldn’t say for sure, but where was July?
Fear crawled up his spine with claws far sharper than the snow nipping at his face.
“Move, dammit,” Tucker mumbled.
But the Stravanos brother didn’t budge.
What to do?
Tucker gnawed the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t burst in there like Dirty Harry. He had to be careful.
The wrong decision could cost July her life.
* * *
“So where’s the sick kitten?” July blinked up at Leo Stravanos.
She walked halfway into the room before the hairs on her arms lifted. A television perched on a large cardboard box in the corner with two cheap wooden straight-back chairs facing it. Other than that, the room was completely empty. The emptiness alone was disconcerting, as was the giant of a man who’d circled around behind her and was now towering over her.
On her way back upstairs to confront Tucker about the gun, Leo had popped out of his apartment and asked her to come help with a sick kitten he’d found shivering on his doorstep. And despite her misgivings about going into the man’s apartment, she couldn’t bear the idea of a suffering kitten.
A terrifying thought ran through her head. Ted Bundy played on women’s good-hearted natures to lure them to their deaths.
“Boy, you are dumb.” Leo shook his head. “Or so nosy it gets the better of you.”
The second one. July’s stomach slid into her shoes.
She might be scared out of her wits, but she wasn’t going to let Stravanos know it. “Are you friends with Tucker?”
“Huh?”
“Okay,” she said, her pulse slamming hard against her chest wall. “Maybe not friends, but confederates?”
