by Anna Sugden
She stilled as Lloyd’s words struck out at her from the past, spewing their acid and eating through layers of healed-over wounds. She reached for the temperature controls. Though earlier she’d been freezing, now she was starting to sweat.
But instead of letting the fog draw her in, she shook her head. She refused to listen this time. Refused to let Lloyd take even another tiny part of her. What he’d said was a lie, anyway, on so many levels. She hadn’t been a woman at all. Only a little girl. A sweet, trusting child. An innocent who’d deserved better than the betrayal she’d sustained at his hands.
As she stopped at the traffic signal nearest to her apartment—one that should have been set on flashing instead at this hour—she pounded her hands on the steering wheel.
“It’s not fair.”
She hated Lloyd. Hated feeling damaged. Mostly just hated.
Other people probably took having normal sexual relationships for granted. She never would. If tonight was any indicator, there were a lot of nevers in her future, when for the first time she wished for possibilities.
She despised Lloyd for taking those away from her along with everything else. Forget being able to have a one-night stand if she’d ever wanted one, which she didn’t. And she refused to call what had happened with Ben that. What she called it didn’t matter because the truth remained that even in a committed relationship, she would never be able to make love with someone she loved and allow herself to enjoy it. At least not without hating herself for it later.
And if she wasn’t careful, she might fall in love with Ben.
She swallowed, eyes blinking rapidly, as she pulled into the complex parking lot. She couldn’t let herself start pretending she and Ben had a relationship just because of one crazy night of passion. That was all it was, right? It didn’t have anything to do with a man who challenged her, surprised her and frustrated her and then touched her with the gentlest hands she could imagine. Or did it?
What she felt didn’t matter anyway. Ben deserved to be involved with someone who could have a normal relationship with him. Someone who would love wearing sexy lingerie for him and leave him steamy messages, promising long nights of lovemaking. Someone she could never be. She couldn’t even think those things without feeling a cold chill and a temptation to run. He deserved better than that.
Better than her.
Darkness and shadows surrounded her car as she pulled into her carport, but as soon as she shut off the engine, her cell phone starting ringing. Pushing back the dread that immediately sprouted inside her, she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and dug for her phone.
“Please don’t be. Please don’t—”
She stopped as Ben’s name appeared on the screen. Though she couldn’t handle receiving another call from the throwaway phones her parents had started using, this wasn’t any easier. But it was just like Ben to call to make sure she’d made it home. Sweet of him, in fact. She should have been more surprised that he hadn’t called already.
But what would she say to him if he apologized again? Would she be tempted to stop making up more excuses and tell him the truth? Was she ready to do that? And what would he say if she did tell him? She couldn’t bear to hear the silence on the line as he scrambled for words, finally understanding how much of a mess she really was.
Her index finger trembled, perched just above the phone screen, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Not yet. After a few more rings, when the call went to voice mail, she let go of the breath she was holding. Maybe Ben would give up and go to bed. She wasn’t sure it would be easier to talk to him tomorrow or the next day, but she could hope for the chance to find out.
No such luck. The phone started ringing again. Had she really believed he would give up so easily?
Frowning, she slid her thumb across the screen to answer.
“Oh, there you are,” he said in a rush.
“Sorry. I, uh, couldn’t answer fast enough the first time.”
“Oh.” His tone said he didn’t believe her. “You’re not still driving, are you? If you are, hang up.”
“No, I’m parked. Just now.”
“So you made it home okay?”
Good old Ben. Always watching out for her. He was making sure she was all right, after all. It surprised her how comforting his concern felt. She’d never needed that from anyone before, and she shouldn’t start now, but the temptation to rely on him, to let him share part of her load, was strong. Even if she needed to resist for her own good.
“All in one piece,” she said over the lump forming in her throat.
“That took a while. I’ve been home for ten minutes, but my place is a lot closer to Kensington, I guess.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, glad you made it home safely, too. I’d better get inside.”
“Delia. Wait.”
Her hand gripped the door handle. He’d called her “Delia” this time, so she braced herself for whatever he had to say.
“I was thinking about this in the shower—” He stopped, coughing. “I mean, was thinking there’s a chance we had that thing at the park all wrong.”
“Excuse me?” They hadn’t...well, you know...in the park, but that had to be what he’d meant.
“Anyway, I started thinking—”
“Yeah, I was thinking, too.” She couldn’t help saying something to delay him. What had she been thinking about that she could actually tell him? Did she really think that interrupting him would stop him from talking about it? From apologizing one more time when he’d already used up his allowance for apologies given in any one day?
“I mean about the other cars.”
“Oh.” She coughed into her hand. Obviously, Ben was capable of thinking of other things, so she’d better figure out some way to do the same. “What about them?”
“When they were parked across from us, I was thinking, well—”
“Yeah, I’d guessed that, too,” she said before she could stop herself. Why couldn’t she just keep that to herself? He had to think she had a one-track mind now, which, in regards to him, was probably true. Only not in the way a guy would appreciate.
“So,” he started again, “it wasn’t until...later that I thought it could have been something else.”
Her stomach tightened. “It was a drug transaction, wasn’t it? And we just sat there watching it. We might as well have let them use our scale to do their business or offered to make change for them.”
His long pause suggested that he agreed with her.
“We don’t know that’s what it was,” he said finally. “A drug deal is one possibility, but there are others. Like it could have had something to do with the deserted car from a few weeks ago. The shared scene might be circumstantial, but it’s still worth looking at.”
“What was I thinking?” She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the steering wheel before opening them again. “How could I have not made that connection? I’m the one who’s been patrolling there for days.”
“We weren’t really on our games earlier. And I have caught a few couples in...well...flagrante delicto in parks before, so it was easy to jump to that conclusion. You’ve probably had a few of those cases yourself.”
“Can’t say that I have.” She would have died if she had, but she didn’t add that. “Anyway, there was no excuse for me to miss it. None.”
“Beating yourself up isn’t going to help.”
“Probably not.”
“Anyway, there isn’t necessarily a connection to that case, but we should look at it.” He paused. “I mean you.”
He was just being a cop, even though he’d been sidelined, but he didn’t realize how right he was. She was the one who should already have planned to look into it on her next shift.
Only she’d observed suspicious activity, and she’d been too distracted to even discern that it was suspicious. Now she was falling down on the job in addition to falling—
No. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for anyone. Particularly
not Ben. She was supposed to help save his career, swoop in with her cape and her superb investigative skills. Not become involved with him.
“Look, Ben—”
“Oh, no. Sounds ominous. Should I sit down for this? Because I’m not sitting right now.”
“Would you please be serious?”
“Okay.”
He said it so slowly that it sounded like two words.
“I don’t know what came over me...earlier. But that was crazy. Idiotic. Unacceptable.” She used her hands to emphasize her point, not even caring that he couldn’t see her. “For so many reasons. And whatever this, um, thing is between us, well, it has to stop. Immediately. Before it’s too late.”
“Too late?”
She gritted her teeth over his question.
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Too late for you. Can’t you see it? You’re already sidelined. Do you really want that to be permanent? They’re going to need a scapegoat for the scandal at the post, if nothing else. Are you willing to be that guy?”
“Of course not. I don’t—”
“Don’t you realize you could face charges?” Delia rolled over his words like a car in Neutral on a downhill slope, momentum building, frenzy and frustration escalating, until she collided with the truth. “For crimes you didn’t even commit.”
For several seconds, neither spoke. Though she’d refused to admit it, even to herself, she’d always believed he was innocent from the moment the news report was televised. Now she’d announced it out loud.
“Is that what you really believe?”
For several seconds, she couldn’t answer. “I guess it is,” she said finally. She held her breath. Would he make some big statement about it? Would he claim that he’d known all along?
“Do you think—” he paused as if considering “—it’s possible that the thing at the park tonight, or even the damaged car from earlier, is somehow related to the case at the post?”
Delia smiled at that. He could have made a big deal about what she’d said. It was a big admission after all. But he’d given her a break. As always.
“You’re reaching again. Those things have about as much in common with the investigation as my past does.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I usually am.” She couldn’t help but add that to lighten the conversation.
“And the timing couldn’t be worse.”
She cleared her throat, understanding that he was talking about them now and not the case. “Uh. Right.”
Again, he was quiet for a few seconds. “You know I really am sorry. For so many things.”
“You don’t have to—”
“For the location. You deserved better.” He spoke quickly as if he wanted to get it all out before she could interrupt. “For the lack of, uh, preparation. For taking risks.”
“I know,” she sneaked in when he took a breath.
“For...after.”
“Ben.” She cleared her throat. “I know.” She couldn’t let him go there. Not yet.
“Just had to make sure you knew.”
“Then we’re good. No more apologizing, okay?”
She was still smiling when she clicked off the call. It wasn’t until she tucked her cell phone into her purse that she realized he’d apologized for everything except that he’d made love to her. Had it been intentional? Was he really not sorry for that? Was she? But as soon as she asked the question, she knew the answer with a surety she seldom had in anything.
Even if it could never happen again, even if it was poorly planned and poorly timed, even if she would never be able to give Ben the normal physical relationship he deserved, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it this one time. At least once in her life she’d experienced the type of passion she’d only dreamed of—intense, raw, absolute in both vulnerability and strength. She’d read about it in books and heard about it in songs, but had assumed it was only for other people.
Just that once, in a shielded pause from the sharp shards that marked the rest of her life, Ben had made her feel like a regular woman. No scars. No fears. But pauses were limited in length and depth, and she could accept that. Still, Ben had given her that one perfect moment, and she would forever be grateful to him.
With a yawn and a stretch for sleep long overdue, she pulled her keys from the ignition. But just as she shifted toward the car door, a hard knock came from the other side of the window. Her training kicking in, she pulled her weapon from her purse and rested it in her lap, just in case, and then swiped at the condensation on the window. Of course, it didn’t help any more than calling herself an idiot for sitting alone in the car at night did. She still couldn’t get a good look at the two individuals standing right outside her window, so Delia pulled out her phone and used the flashlight app again.
The moment the beam illuminated the two hat-covered heads, she sucked in a gasp, her limbs frozen in place. Standing right there outside her home were the two people she’d hoped—prayed—never to have to see again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WELL, IT’S ABOUT TIME.”
Lloyd’s voice rumbled through the glass though Delia’s car windows were closed. She couldn’t imagine how loud it had sounded outside the car. Or how many of her neighbors heard it.
With robotic movements, she returned her weapon to its case and pulled her hat lower over her ears. Calling for strength, she pushed the door open, forcing her guests to step back so she could climb out. The narrow parking spaces made it necessary for them to scoot from beneath the carport into the lighted parking lot where the snow was finally beginning to slow.
Delia stalled by reaching inside for her purse, and then she closed the door. The snow crunching under her feet, she stomped toward them with crossed arms, as much to hold herself together as to shield her body from the cold.
“What are you doing here?” Her slow, measured words appeared as individual puffs of condensation in the air.
Dressed in a poufy parka with a faux-fur hood pulled over her hat, Marian was the first to step forward. She’d always been tiny, but the years and gravity had been especially unkind to her. The coat seemed to swallow her frail body.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Marian gushed.
Delia wished she could say the same about her parents. No, scratch that, she didn’t even wish it.
Before Marian could reach her daughter, Lloyd stepped between them. Like always. Instead of shifting to the side, Marian stayed where she was, relegated to the back of the line.
“Look at what the cat dragged in at...” He paused to look at the lighted face on his watch. “After 2:00 a.m.”
His smile was a sneer in sheep’s clothing, his piercing eyes looted from Delia’s nightmares. Though tufts of white hair poked out from beneath his cap, and time had drawn its own graffiti on the face that had once won him votes and a convenient bride, Lloyd was the same man Delia remembered. She would recognize that rotted wood beneath a shiny veneer anywhere. Even now he carried himself with the confidence of a man who could have anything he wanted. And had.
Marian peeked around him. “We’ve been waiting here for hours for you.”
“Yes. Hours.”
Lloyd regarded Delia for so long that no amount of cold could have prevented her cheeks from burning. He seemed to see right through her coat, hat and clothes to where Ben’s handprints lingered on her skin. What did she care if the man she despised had guessed where she’d been or what she’d been doing? She was an adult. Nothing she did, or with whom she did it, was any of his business.
Delia cleared her throat. “I asked what you’re doing here.” Her jaw tightened, and she bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted the tin-can flavor of blood.
“You didn’t answer any of our calls,” her mother supplied as if that explained everything.
“I thought you’d get the message.” She cleared her throat. “But since you didn’t, I’ll spell it out for you. I don’t want to talk to you.
I don’t want you here.” She indicated her apartment complex with a wide sweep of her hand.
“Well, hasn’t someone become awfully full of herself now that she’s a big police officer,” Lloyd said, staring down at her again.
Delia drew her brows together, his comment seeming odd. He was baiting her the way he always had, and she refused to swallow the hook. But why did it matter so much that she was a cop? She lifted her chin and met his creepy stare, refusing to be affected by him, refusing to let him have control over her ever again. Yet her body betrayed her as a shiver settled at the base of her neck, her bowels becoming unsettled.
“Sweetheart, it’s been such a long time.”
Marian’s voice was suddenly shrill, desperation creeping in, but Delia wouldn’t be moved by this display. This was the same woman who’d called her own child a liar to avoid accepting the unthinkable about her precious husband.
“Yes, how long has it been since you abandoned me? I was twelve, so that’s fourteen years.”
“It wasn’t like that. You know we—”
“Why come after all of this time? Why the calls? Why this ambush? Did you really think I would welcome you with open arms?”
“It was time for us to come home,” Lloyd answered for the both of them.
“Oh, I see. You think that enough time has passed for the residents to have forgotten about the things you did. Some of us will never forget.”
Her breath caught. She hadn’t meant to say the last bit, to admit that she still carried scars. The corners of his mouth lifted in a self-satisfied grin. He still wielded power over her, and she hated him even more for it.
Marian stepped around her husband and held her hands wide. “We just wanted to sit down together and put all of that, uh, messiness behind us.”
“Messiness? That’s what you call it?” Delia stared at her mother until she looked away. “I call it a violent crime against a child. And if you think I’m inviting you in so we can all sit around and laugh about old times, you’re both as blind as the judge who dismissed all of those charges.”
Lloyd’s expression remained pleasant, but his jaw tightened. “If I remember correctly, the charges were dismissed for lack of evidence.” But then a smile spread on his lips. “And we wanted to let you know that we forgive you for making those false accusations.”
