by Noelle Adams
The woman sitting before him was not the same sparkling creature he’d seen on the beach two weeks ago. That woman had been all gloss, all slick veneer. This person was raw, and bleeding, very nearly stripped down to the bare core that was the human soul. The spark that had first caught his eye was still there, but it was naked now, burning hotter than ever for all her desperation. And although Blake was sagging, although her hands trembled and her voice shook, she was not yet beaten.
And if he could do anything about it, she never would be.
“You’re not going back alone,” he said at length.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were watery but gleaming with strength. “Well, you’re not coming with me. I’m not going to put you in harm’s way again.”
“There’s no argument you can make that will convince me to let you go back there without me. If you try to run away from me, I’ll just follow you.” He allowed a small smile to creep over his lips. “I know where you’re headed, after all.”
“Oh really? And just where is that?” Her tearful smile matched his.
“Where we’re going: back to the beach house. Back to where it all began.”
*
It was a long ride home. Despite the fact that they took the interstate instead of the Coastal Highway, and even despite the lack of traffic, it seemed to take twice as long to get into to Malibu as it had to get to out of it.
It was mid-morning when they reached the beach house. The sun had firmly established itself in the pale blue sky by that time, and it was shining much too brightly for their tired eyes to enjoy. Their minds were nearly dead with lack of sleep, bodies leaden and aching from the physical strain of sitting on the bike. Caleb had had the worst of it, and guilt stabbed Blake hotly as she watched him dismount with uncharacteristic clumsiness, heavily favoring his bad knee as he grabbed their bags from the rack in back and started for the front door. He looked like he needed a week at a spa, with beautiful girls to massage him daily. For herself, Blake wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long sleep, but she doubted that either one of them would get what they needed this morning.
Blake’s parents had been none too happy about her riding back to Malibu with no one to protect her but Caleb. They hadn’t realized yet that complete protection was no longer possible. If Rube really wanted her dead, nothing and no one was going to stop him. She’d known him long enough to recognize that fact. The best she could do now was to make sure that Caleb didn’t get caught in the crossfire.
It was strange to open the door to the beach house, to walk into that space that she had known and loved so well for so many years. The place still smelled the same, still had the feeling of home and comfort and safety. But it was no longer her home, and it certainly was no longer safe.
“You go on and grab a shower while I put the coffee on,” Caleb said as he dropped their bags by the stairs. “We need to figure out what our next move is going to be.”
Blake came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. She breathed deep, filling her nostrils with the good smell of him, solid and reassuring. “How about I start the coffee while you grab a shower,” she suggested. “I think you’ve earned first dibs on the hot water.”
He turned in her embrace and locked his arms around her back, kissing her deeply. “You know, we could always share the shower. We’d be conserving water, after all.”
Blake looked up into his face. She could not stop marveling that he would still want to be with her after all the trouble she had put him through. She smiled. “Well, I do have strong feelings about water conservation…”
“Sorry to interrupt,” said a voice from behind them.
An electric jolt shot through Blake. She suppressed a shriek and turned in Caleb’s arms. There was a man coming slowly down the stairs, a man she didn’t know. Tall and slim and slick-looking. Caleb’s grip on her tightened and her pulse pounded hard in her throat. Had they walked right into a trap?
The man’s gaze shifted from Caleb to her, then back again. “Don’t you think you should introduce us, Caleb?”
Hearing the man’s relaxed and friendly tone, Blake stiffened. She rotated her head to look at Caleb over her shoulder. His eyes lowered in defeat, and her heart sank. Caleb spoke.
“Blake, this is Steve Peterson. He’s been my best friend for thirty years. And for the past two weeks, he’s also been my boss.”
Twenty-Two
“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” Blake said. She knew she was sounding stupid, but that was all right. She was feeling none too bright at the moment.
Stupid, she thought. As in: my brain is too fogged for this to make any sense to me.
And stupid, as in: I can’t believe that the only two men I’ve trusted over the past decade have both been lying to me. First Rube, and now Caleb.
How much more stupid could she get?
She sat at the dining room table, with Caleb on her right and Steve across from her. As they talked, they sipped hot coffee and nibbled on toast in an appalling pretense of normality. And with every word that was spoken, her world crumbled a little more.
Steve had ended up preparing the coffee himself. After making his hurried and cryptic introduction, Caleb had refused to explain himself further until Blake had had a chance to shower and dress. He stayed close by as she cleaned up and donned a change of clothes, then he escorted her back downstairs. Through it all, his eyes spoke volumes, saying over and over again: I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. And please don’t lose faith in me.
But how could she believe any of it now?
Caleb refilled her coffee cup as he repeated himself patiently. “Steve’s the one who brought me out here from Iowa,” he told her.
“The friend who needed a favor?” Blake asked.
“That’s right. He had a job to do, and he needed someone he could trust. I guess I turned out to be that someone.”
“And I turned out to be the favor.” Blake’s lips tightened as she tried to control her bitterness at having been lied to, conned, entrapped – as much by her own imprudent heart as by Caleb.
Caleb hesitated, then apparently decided not to sugarcoat it. “Yes. I was hired to watch you. To protect you. I tried to tell you several times, but – “
“But you didn’t try hard enough,” she finished his sentence, her voice hard and unforgiving.
“No,” Caleb said quietly. He waited for her to speak further, but when she was silent, he added, “And believe me, I wish to God I had done things differently. I know I owe you an apology for not telling you the whole truth.”
“Oh you owe me a lot more than that, mister.” Blake’s eyes filled with abrupt tears as she remembered how safe she had felt with him, how tenderly he had held her in his arms. She blinked them back angrily. No way would she let him make her cry. Not now, not ever. “But the only thing I want from you is the courtesy of walking out the door and never bothering me again.”
Steve spoke for the first time in several minutes. “I’m afraid we can’t do that, Blake.”
She turned wrathful eyes his way. Steve’s tone was level, but he looked like someone who was not willing to negotiate. Well, that was fine with Blake. She wasn’t interested in negotiation, or even discussion. She was tired of talking, and she was sure as hell done listening.
Reading her expression, Steve leaned across the table, obviously ready to bully her if necessary. He stretched out an arm and tapped his index finger on the table to make his point. “Your life is in imminent danger. It would be irresponsible of us to leave you alone now.”
“Oh spare me your self-righteous crap, Mr. Peterson,” she said. If she’d had a hammer close by, she might have smashed that arrogant finger of his. “Your only concern is your paycheck.”
“You’re right, of course.” Steve could give as good as he got. “I’m a security consultant, charged with protecting you. If you die, I can’t collect the rest of my money. So the one thing I’m determined to do is keep you alive.”
/>
In the fury of the moment, Blake experienced an almost irresistible urge to run straight out the door and into oncoming traffic. It would be worth it, just to make sure that Steve Peterson never earned another penny because of her. She leaned across the table and tapped her own fingers at him, refusing to back down. “You’re not a security consultant, you’re a pimp. Deal with it.”
Steve stood abruptly, having obviously reached the limits of his patience. Good. “Caleb, tell your girlfriend here that Rube is coming back to LA tonight to finish all his old business, and that includes her.”
The words were like a slap in the face. Blake felt herself go numb, anaesthetized by fear. Caleb’s hand reached automatically for hers, and she took it without thought.
She heard Caleb’s voice, speaking because she could not. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s why I came here looking for you. Rube’s been off the grid, but one of my informants has told me that he’s flying into LAX tonight, under an assumed name. The FBI will be there to arrest him when he steps off the plane.” He turned to Blake and spoke bluntly. “Until Rube Jeffries is in custody, your life isn’t worth a plug nickel. So we’re going to stay here, the three of us, in this house, until I’ve received a call that tells me Rube has been arrested. You can insult me all you want to, but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”
The message sank in slowly, working itself through layers of emotion until it reached Blake’s consciousness. She became aware that her hand was still encased in Caleb’s and she pulled away, refusing herself the comfort of his touch. Any consolation she took from him would be a lie, anyway.
She swallowed shallowly, then nodded her assent to Steve. “Fine. We’ll stay here. But I suggest you keep out of my sight if you know what’s good for you.”
To his credit, Steve did as he was told, turning without a word and heading for some other part of the house. Wherever he went was fine with Blake, as long as it was away.
When he was gone, the tension dropped by a small degree. Blake took a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest protectively, then turned to Caleb. “I think you better tell me the whole story again.”
And he did. He started from the time he had gotten Steve’s first phone call to the moment he’d fallen at her feet on the beach. He then went on to fill in details from the days since they’d met, telling her how he’d followed her, watching her from a distance when he wasn’t up close and personal. He told her about the man he called Pinkshirt, about trying to gauge how much she knew about Rube’s criminal enterprises, about becoming emotionally involved and, as he said, too selfish to tell her the truth.
Blake took in the details as if she were a patient listening to a surgeon explain how an operation had gone awry. She asked intermittent questions when she needed clarification on some small point, and tried to avoid allowing her emotions to cloud her perception of the big picture. She declined to pronounce judgment against the mistakes that had been made, since that would do nothing but flare her blood pressure, and thus weaken her further. Tell me, Doctor, she wanted to say, what are my chances? Will I pull through this?
When Caleb had finished speaking, she drew a breath. She felt hollow and empty, but somehow cleaner. At least, she told herself, she knew everything now. It seemed that her prognosis was probably going to be negative, but there could still be treatment available which might offer some hope. The mysteries had been solved, and if nothing else, she could console herself with the fact that at any rate Caleb hadn’t been trying to kill her. No, that had just been Rube, the man she’d been practically married to for the past ten years. Ah, well, apparently almost-marriages weren’t all made in heaven…
She picked up her coffee mug, but it was cold, so she set it back down again.
“Would you like me to make a fresh pot?” Caleb asked quietly.
“No, thank you. I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a little while. When Steve hears anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” Blake pushed back from the table and stood up. Her legs were wobbly, and she had to steady herself against the back of the chair. Caleb reached out to help her, but she drew back. “No!” she said sharply.
She hadn’t meant to speak that way, but even when she saw the pain in his eyes she couldn’t bring herself to feel regret. Right now, she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything.
“I’m so sorry about all of this,” Caleb’s words spilling out of him like a hot rush of tears. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”
“Of course not.” Her reply was automatic. “Believe me, I appreciate how difficult your position must have been. I just – well, I don’t think there’s much left for us to say to each other, do you?”
“Yes, actually I do.” He looked into her face, searching for a glimmer of what had been between them. But it was gone now, and Blake felt the absence of her emotion, as deep and empty as a newly-dug grave.
Whatever Caleb saw when he looked at her must have deterred him from speaking, because he lowered his eyes. “I’ll let you get some rest,” was all he said. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks.” She was sick of thanking him, but she didn’t know what else to say. How could she have been so cynical, and still so naïve?
She left Caleb sitting at the table, and made her way up to her bedroom. She paused in the lounge at the top of the stairs, remembering that recent night when she had crouched behind the potted plant and watched Rube and Greg question the unfortunate Jake. Had it really been less than two weeks ago? Time was a funny thing, slowing down and speeding up unpredictably. It was disorienting, insulting to the senses.
Blake tried to remember the person she’d been then – that feisty girl who’d moved so boldly down this hallway – but it was like groping to touch a shadow. That girl was gone, and in her place was a quiet, dry-eyed stranger who could do nothing but wait for the other shoe to drop.
It wasn’t until she was lying in her bed, with her cheek nestled against the familiar satin sheets, that the first hot tears began to fall.
Twenty-Three
Caleb hefted the heavy glass bottle in his hand, watching the fluid shimmer inside, glinting like liquid gold in the lamplight. Outside, the sky was turning a similar shade. As the sun descended over the ocean, it cast rays of melting yellows across the rippling water.
It was a beautiful sunset, Caleb thought moodily, one he wished he could share with Blake. But she’d been asleep most of the day, tucked into her darkening bedroom, waiting for the phone call which would release her from his unwanted company. And then… what? What would she do? What, for that matter, would he do?
His eye was caught by people strolling down the beach, and he paused in his reverie, body tense, as he took in details of the passersby. Two females, early twenties, carrying beach towels. Most likely not professional killers, he told himself with a grim smile, although these days you could never be sure. He relaxed somewhat, but his eyes continued to follow the two young women until they were out of sight.
A floorboard creaked behind him, and Steve’s voice floated over his shoulder. “Is Blake still upstairs?”
Caleb rotated in the leather chair – the same chair he had sat in on the day that he met Blake, he couldn’t help but remember – and shot Steve a dour grin. “Yeah. It’s safe to come out.”
“That’s a relief.” Steve moved smoothly around the chair and into the living room. He smiled as he settled on the sofa. “I could be wrong, but I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly meet her under the best of circumstances.”
“No, I didn’t.” Steve searched Caleb’s face. “Did you get any sleep?” He had ordered Caleb to rest some hours before, promising that he would keep watch from the front of the house.
“I lay down for awhile, and I think I slept.”
Steve nodded. “So how are you doing with all this?”
/> Caleb shook the bottle that was still in his hand, making the liquor slosh around. “I’ve been better.”
Steve held out a hand and Caleb passed the bottle to him willingly. The light from outside caught the letters highlighted on the gold label, and Caleb smiled. There was something comforting about knowing that a big-shot like Rube drank the same brand of tequila that Caleb liked to order in his favorite bar back home.
“Should I get a glass,” Steve asked, “or are we taking it straight from the bottle this evening?”
Caleb shrugged. “I’m not actually drinking it. I was just enjoying the thought, you know? Looking forward to doing a few shots when this thing is over. Doesn’t seem like now is a good time to be indulging.”
“No,” Steve agreed. “It doesn’t.” He set the bottle down on the coffee table with a little clinking sound, then he checked his watch. “I should be getting that phone call pretty soon, and then maybe we can crack that thing open and have a toast. What do you say?”
Caleb nodded, trying to ignore the crushing sense of guilt that still weighed on his chest.
His old friend must have read the expression on his face, because he spoke up firmly. “It’s not your fault,” Steve said.
Caleb’s reply was immediate and vigorous. “I should have told her,” he said. “I never should have kept this from her. It was too big, too important. But I was just too much of a – a – “
“Romantic fool,” Steve supplied.
“I was going to say ‘lovesick jackass,’ but whatever.” Caleb ran his hands through his hair. He wished like hell that this whole thing was over, and at the same time, he never wanted it to end because he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Blake. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with tomorrow, or with all the tomorrows after that.”
Steve stood up and walked across the room. He leaned against the patio door and stared out the window at the darkening sky. When he spoke his voice was sharp with frustration. “I never should have taken this job. Every instinct that I have told me to leave it alone, to let somebody else handle it.” He turned and looked back at Caleb. “But it was those same instincts that forced me to ask the tough question: if I passed on this job, would I inadvertently be getting somebody hurt? Or even killed?” He shook his head. “When something like this is dropped in your lap, you either turn a blind eye – “
