Soul to Soul (RUSH, Inc. Book 2)

by Carol Caiton

"You're right, Kyle, I wasn't paying attention. But I was dropping my wife off at the public library, not pulling a job."

  "Well as soon as you walked away, he followed her inside."

  Michael had heard Kyle tell that to the cops. Buy Kyle wouldn't have been keeping an eye on Rachel out of the goodness of his heart. And payback was always a bitch, wasn't it. "What do you want, Kyle?"

  Kyle flashed him a grin in the glass. "I wanna know who Jill is."

  Michael stared back at the sonofabitch. "What?"

  "You heard. I wanna know who Jill is."

  So Kyle had been listening when Rachel told him the bastard with the knife thought she was Jill. Denying it would only up Kyle's interest.

  "Why do you wanna know who Jill is?"

  "Because your wife said her over-friendly admirer thought she was Jill. So who's Jill?"

  Michael might not be feeling too friendly toward his sister-in-law right now, but he wasn't about to put her in the path of trouble.

  "Like you said, Kyle, I recognize the face, but I don't know the man. Ask for something else."

  Triumph deepened the color of his eyes. "A sister." He grinned and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Maybe even a twin sister. —Hey, Michael, don't get all pissed. The asshole was watching your wife for two hours. The resemblance must be pretty fucking incredible to last two hours under observation."

  Michael crowded into Kyle's personal space, shouldering him up against the plate glass. "Stay away from my family, Kyle."

  Kyle shoved right back. "Your family, huh? Since when did family start meaning something to you?" Turning away from the window, he began walking again. "I seem to remember a time when you wanted to be part of my family. But it turned out that wasn't good enough for you, was it? You just up and walked away when something better came along, didn't you?"

  Michael was right on his heels, a battle raging inside him. The memories, the torment, the rage . . . the fucking tears.

  "I didn't walk away." He forced the words out. But that was the best he could do, all he could say. Because walking beside Kyle, even after all these years, had the power to strip him naked and bring the filth, the excruciating shame festering to the surface.

  But Kyle didn't even look at him. He just kept walking. "No, I didn't figure you did. But you sure as hell never came back, did you?"

  For several seconds Michael was at a loss. How the hell could he have gone back after what happened to him? And if Kyle figured he hadn't walked away, then he knew damn well what had gone down. He wasn't stupid. Everyone knew what happened to kids who disappeared off the streets.

  Michael stared at him. Hard. The Kyle Falkner he'd once known, the friend he'd trusted and loved like a goddamn brother, was nowhere to be seen in this hardened sonofabitch. And with that realization, the small flame that still flickered inside him snuffed out. There was nothing more to say. Nothing left. He'd do his homework. He satisfy the curiosity that had dogged him for so many years. And then he'd decide on the best way to take Kyle down. And if the thought of that started to rekindle a flame, all he had to do was think about Rachel. 'Cause nothing—and that included Kyle—was ever gonna hurt her if he could stop it.

  He took a minute to adjust to that, to give himself some time to let go. Finally. But when the silence between them had gone on too long, he asked one more question. Not that he wouldn't find out the answer on his own. But there was nothing more he wanted to hear about Kyle that he couldn't read about later. He'd heard enough.

  "Did Joey come to Florida too?"

  It was a simple, ordinary question. But the response he got wasn't.

  Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, Kyle swung around. Cold, flat eyes met his and narrowed. For a minute he didn't say anything, just stared, his gaze hard and accusing. Then, in a voice rough with anger, he said, "My brother's dead, Michael." He opened his mouth to say something more, then shut it.

  Whatever had happened to Joey Falkner had either been tragic or so recent, Kyle hadn't gotten over the raw pain of it yet. Maybe both. Kyle was a year older than Michael and Joey had been two years younger.

  Another little flame from his past snuffed out and was gone. Another empty space in his soul. "I'm sorry to hear that," he told Kyle, and he meant it.

  "Yeah, sure. Next question."

  Yeah, sure? Next question?

  Michael scowled. "Why are you pissed off at me because of Joey?"

  Kyle's eyes burned. "Fuck you, Vassek."

  Then he spun around and walked away, cutting through the slow-moving traffic and disappearing around the next corner.

  Michael watched. Then he turned, as well, and walked another block to get to his car. He wanted his wife. He wanted the privacy of their home. And he wanted a long hot shower to wash away the filth of the day.

  After that, there was very little about Kyle and Joey that he couldn't find out on his own.

  CHAPTER 33

  Michael pulled up to the curb in front of Rachel's parents' house. Her father's car sat in the driveway and since it was only four o'clock, seeing it there told him Dr. Oslund had cut short his workday and come home.

  What had it been like to grow up with parents who could afford to do that, who loved like that? What had it been like to grow up in a house with lights after dark, clothes that always fit, and plenty of food to eat?

  Shutting off the engine, it occurred to him that his own little girl was gonna have all of that. She was gonna grow up with all the same advantages Rachel had had and more.

  He sat for a minute and thought about that, thought about some of the decisions he'd made that had placed him in this position, and some of the weight around his soul lifted.

  The front door opened as he stepped out of the car and Rachel started down the pavement. She must've been watching for him.

  A light breeze blew her maternity top flat against her stomach so that he saw the slight rounded bump there, and that weight on his soul lifted a little more. Damn, but the love he felt for her just kept growing every time he looked at her. He didn't even bother trying to protect himself from it anymore.

  "How you doing, baby? Everything okay?"

  She walked right into his arms, right where he needed her to be. He shut his eyes and held her, rubbed some of her hair between his fingers. This was his life now. This is what he'd fought for and would keep fighting for.

  "Yes," she nodded, "we're okay. Everything's normal."

  After a minute she pulled back and looked up. "What about you? Did you have your hand examined?"

  "No, not yet. But nothing's broken. I'd know if it was." Driving and shifting gears had been a little tough, but his hand wasn't any worse off than it had been at other times. "Did you get something to eat?"

  "Yes. Mom and I stopped for something. You?"

  "Haven't had a chance yet."

  She stepped to the side, but kept one arm around his waist. "Then come inside. Dad will want to look at your hand anyway, and I'll put something together for you in the kitchen."

  She started to lead him toward the house but he held back.

  "Just a minute."

  Stopping, she gave him a questioning look.

  "I wanna hold you for another minute."

  She didn't even hesitate. Just turned right back into his arms and he pulled her in so close, he felt her against him from chest to thigh.

  "Baby, you scared me today."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  He smiled against the top of her head. "Nothing for you to apologize about."

  "I know. But I'm still sorry. I'm sorry that you worried, and I'm sorry that your hand is hurt and swollen."

  "Maybe you'd better give Jill a call. Let her know what happened and find out if there's any other trouble we should be watching out for, okay?"

  She nodded against his chest. "Thank you, Michael. Thank you for getting there in time, and thank you for hurting yourself to take care of me."

  She looked up and her pretty blue eyes mirrored the f
ullness that started up again in his chest. He lifted his injured hand and brushed her hair away from her face. "I love you."

  She got up on her toes to kiss him. "I love you, too."

  * * *

  There was nothing he could do about his dirty, blood-stained shirt, but he splashed some water on his face and washed up.

  Rachel's father surprised him though, handing him a freshly laundered T-shirt when he came out of the bathroom. So, ducking back inside, he dropped the soiled one into the trashcan, pulled on the clean one, then let her father take a look at his hand.

  Two of his knuckles were starting to crust over with fresh scabs and yeah, his hand was swollen. But he could move all his fingers and bend his wrist so he was gonna be fine.

  Dr. Oslund bandaged him up though, then took Michael into his study where he asked for a blow by blow account of what had happened. Michael figured he was entitled.

  "When you're a parent," Wayne Oslund said afterward, sitting down behind his desk, "you don't stop worrying just because your children leave the nest. People think being a twin is all fun and mischief, and most of the time it is. But no one considers the perils of mistaken identity."

  Michael walked around one of the side chairs and sat down. "Yeah. Rachel talked about it some—that first night we went out. But I didn't get the reality of it until today." He stretched out his fingers and winced a little. "She's gonna give Jill a call and find out if there's anything else we need to know about."

  "That's probably smart. Jill's had a difficult time since Luke died. You knew Luke through Mason, didn't you?"

  "Yeah, I met him a couple of times. Didn't really know him though. Wasn't he an aerospace engineer or something?"

  "Yes he was. And a good man." He looked Michael in the eye. "I couldn't have asked for two finer sons-in-law for my daughters."

  Michael shifted in his seat. Hearing her father say that was frigging bizarre, particularly after having just been reminded of where he came from. Something else bothered him too, sort of lingering in the back of his mind since the first night he came here. He shifted again and looked into his father-in-law's eyes.

  "You remember when I came to take Rachel out to dinner that first night—when you answered the door?"

  Her father smiled. "I've wondered if you'd ask me about that night."

  "Yeah, well, knowing I was from RUSH, why did you even let me in the door?"

  The older man leaned back, crossed his ankles, and smiled, warm and friendly, just like always. "Michael, the fact that you were a part of RUSH was the best thing that could have happened to Rachel."

  Michael snorted. "You gonna explain that? Or are you gonna let me sit here wondering what kind of father would think something like that?"

  Dr. Oslund laughed. "You can't imagine what Eileen and I went through when Rachel began those sessions at RUSH. The fear— The fear was almost unbearable. Nobody knew much of anything about RUSH. The rumors, especially back in the beginning, were enough to turn a father's hair white. The only thread of hope we had for her safety was Mason—a man we'd only met once." He sighed. "Rachel told us what she wanted to do before she went to see him. Then she told us Mason agreed to approach the board of directors—you—with her situation. So when you invited her out to dinner, you knew in advance that she couldn't tolerate being touched."

  Hitching up his pant leg, he crossed one ankle over his knee. "Eileen and I talked about that—the fact that you knew Rachel's history. And you had RUSH, which meant that any of your baser needs could be readily satisfied there. Those things added together told us the reason you asked Rachel out was because it was Rachel you wanted to spend time with, for Rachel herself. How am I doing so far?"

  Michael smiled wryly. "Pretty good."

  Her father looked pleased with himself. "When she came downstairs that night and you put yourself between her and the rest of us, well, I have to say I was beside myself with delight."

  Michael choked out a laugh. "I figured you thought I was some kind of lunatic. I thought I was some kind of lunatic."

  Dr. Oslund chuckled. "That was the furthest thing from my mind, son. As far as I was concerned, my daughter couldn't have been in better hands. And that was borne out today, wasn't it? I don't know what sort of threat you perceived out in the living room, but your instinct to protect was all I could have hoped for—regarding either daughter. But maybe Rachel in particular."

  Michael's memory of that night was clear in his mind. Just about everything concerning Rachel was clear in his mind. "I was spooked when I saw Jill. And then there was the other—when you answered the door." He met his father-in-law's eyes. "How did you know all my shit with just a look? I know Rachel didn't tell you anything because I saw it the second you realized it, like some sort of light flashed on."

  "I don't know how I knew. I'd like to say that practicing medicine for so many years gives a doctor the wisdom or insight to recognize certain things. And it does sometimes. But it's not a given."

  Michael considered that. Maybe it had been something in his own eyes—the same way he'd seen it for an instant in Rachel's when she stepped out of her hiding place at the koi pond.

  "My background isn't pretty," he said. "And I'm sure it's a hell of a lot uglier than anything you've imagined."

  His father-in-law nodded. "I'm not going to make light of that, Michael. But if that's the case, then I admire the man you've become that much more. A hole that deep isn't easy to dig your way out of."

  "No, sir, it isn't. But just so you know . . . everything I have? I came by it legally. Nobody's gonna come taking anything away from Rachel and the baby."

  "The IRS you mean?" Her father smiled. "It never crossed my mind. With the notoriety of RUSH and the number of organizations wanting to shut it down, I'm sure someone would have caught up with you by now if there was anything to catch up with."

  Michael harrumphed. "Geez, there's isn't much that ruffles your feathers, is there?"

  The older man chuckled. "A great many things ruffle my feathers. But when I watch my daughter walk into your arms and stay there . . . ." He shook his head. "When I see my grandchild growing inside her because she's able to live a normal life with you, and I see the adoration in her eyes every time she looks at you . . . Should I go on?"

  "Hell no. It's getting embarrassing."

  "Then let me just say the more I get to know you, the more I trust my instincts."

  Thankfully, he changed the subject after that. Nodding toward the bandage wrapped around Michael's knuckles he said, "You know, Eileen's going to phone you tomorrow to check on that hand."

  Michael glanced at it. "She doesn't have to. It's fine.

  "Nevertheless, she'll call."

  "What for?"

  "Because she'll want you to know she cares."

  * * *

  It was seven o'clock before Michael opened the passenger door and helped Rachel into the Lotus. They'd stayed at her parents' house for dinner and for about the hundredth time, he'd given thanks for all those frigging etiquette classes he'd taken at RUSH. He'd come a long way. He'd learned a lot while living with John Rawson, but the classes at RUSH taught him even more and put a good polish on everything. He'd still taken refresher courses once in a while, just because. And it was good for the male population to see one of the owners trudging through the same shit they had to work on. But most of what he'd learned was getting to be second nature now. He felt comfortable sitting at the Oslund's table, with himself and with them too now. It helped that he liked them. So maybe it was getting easier to do the family thing.

  Next in line was his language. He'd been working on it ever since RUSH opened for business and he'd cleaned it up even more since meeting Rachel. But now he was gonna have a little girl and he didn't want his baby daughter toddling around the house saying 'fuck this' and 'fuck that.' Nope.

  Pulling away from the curb, he asked, "How's the baby doing?"

  Rachel smiled. "She's fine. Moving around. Happy."

  "
Happy, huh?"

  "Yes. She's happy."

  "How about your side? Hurt at all?"

  "Only if I stretch the wrong way."

  He frowned. "So how many stitches did you need?"

  "Just a couple."

  "How many is a couple?" He downshifted, approaching a traffic light. Then it turned green so he sped up again.

  "Just three." She dropped her head back against the headrest and sighed. "I'm glad we're on our way home. I want a shower, and I want to go to bed."

  "Sounds good. Just give me a few minutes to check out something on the computer, then we'll do that shower together, okay?"

  "Okay."

  He wanted to have a look at her, make sure she wasn't hurt anywhere else. Besides, it gave him a chance to look at her belly without being obvious. Now that he'd made his peace with becoming a father —sort of—her stomach fascinated him. At night he liked to hold her spoon-style so he could put his hand on her stomach and feel what was going on. Once, when he woke up before she did, he slid the covers down so he could look at her. But after a few minutes she cuddled up against him and he realized she was chilly. So now he did his looking when they showered together, among other things.

  When he sat down at the computer though, he took a lot longer than he'd planned. He'd only meant to get things started and assuage his initial curiosity. From the moment he realized what computers could do, he'd wanted to look for Kyle and Joey, but he wouldn't have stopped there. He would have kept tabs on them for the rest of his life. And he would have ached inside every time he ran a search. So he'd told himself to let it go, that he'd be better off not knowing anything.

  Now, however, those restraints had been lifted, and he was very good at what he did. He could dig up shit in places nobody else thought to look. But what he learned about Kyle Falkner came at him from out in left field and he sat staring at the monitor, absofuckinglutely stunned.

  Kyle was a cop—or he'd been a cop until just a few months ago. A cop for fuck's sake. Kyle. He'd quit the police force and moved to Orlando shortly after Nina's car was overturned. Probably right after he'd seen Michael on television.