by Byrne, Wendy
Taking in a giant gulp of air, she continued. “I went shopping while we were in Milwaukee. I hope you don’t mind that I used some of that money you had stashed in the trunk. I couldn’t go around in those heels forever.”
Unable to stop rambling, she stroked her hand up and down her legs to give her arms something to do. Her heart and mouth were simultaneously going about a thousand miles a minute and she couldn’t stop either one to save her soul. She needed to tell him how much danger they were in but couldn’t get herself to do it. The last thing she needed was for him to relapse. He still looked pathetic, even more so now that she’d given him an impromptu haircut.
“I think the swelling is going down. Your eyes look much better. And your cheek isn’t so distorted. Even your lip is back down to normal size. Of course, your face is still black and blue, but…”
“I’ve gotta pee. I’m hungry as hell. I need a shower. And everything, including my fingernails, hurts.” He stopped, cautiously easing his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Other than that, how are you?” After a day in Milwaukee and another day in Madison, she needed some relief.
He stood up. Bracing his hands on either side of his hips, he took in a breath. He looked shaky. She wasn’t one bit surprised when he sat back down on the bed. He sniffed at his underarms. “I really need a shower.” With a deep breath, he pushed himself upright once again.
“Maybe you should consider a bath. Less likely to fall flat on your face when in a prone position.” She was itching to help him, but knew better than to try.
“No self-respecting man takes a bath.” He grinned. At least that’s what it looked like he was trying to do. “Or if he does, he’s not alone.”
She figured Shane took stubborn to a whole other level, but it was something she could live with now that she’d had a taste of being in charge and confirmed it wasn’t her thing. “Is that some kind of macho code?”
“Just mine.” While his voice sounded confident, his body betrayed him as he swayed slightly before righting himself.
“If you insist on this disaster trip, at least let me help you. You can barely stand. How are you going to keep from passing out in the shower?”
She was sure he wasn’t used to being the weak end of a partnership; she sure wasn’t used to being the strong one. Like it or not, she was in the middle of a major role shift.
“I’ll be fine.”
She stood in front of him, grasping his elbows to steady his wobbly advance lest he drop right there on the disgustingly dirty carpet.
“This is ridiculous. I have seen a man’s penis before.” She didn’t take him for the shy type, but it was the only explanation.
“You haven’t seen mine.”
“If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” She blew out a breath and tried to think of another way to reason with him. “I won’t look.”
“If the situation were reversed, would you trust me to help you in the shower?”
“Of course not. But that’s different. Men never do anything unless they’re getting something in return. Women are much more altruistic.”
He ignored her. Using the wall to steady himself, he shuffled towards the bathroom.
“If you fall, I’ll never be able to get you up by myself. I’ll have to call 911, which is exactly what you don’t want me to do.” Since he wasn’t listening to reason, she decided she needed to stop him from doing something crazy and blocked his path, taking a stand inside the bathroom door.
“For the last time, no.” He put his hand on the door frame and moved her aside. “And when I’m feeling up to it, I’ll show you all about a man giving and not receiving.” With that, he closed the door.
Maybe she should have warned him about his hair. Then again, maybe his vision wasn’t too good yet. Or maybe he wouldn’t look in the mirror.
* * *
Shane leaned against the door for support. He felt like crap. His head pounded like somebody was hitting it with a hammer at ten-second intervals.
His arms trembled. His legs wobbled, barely strong enough to stand on, let alone walk. Holding onto the sink for support, he shuffled to the toilet and took care of business. Afterward, he clung to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hands. Bracing himself, he tried to muster the energy to turn on the shower and finally get the stink off him.
Cupping his hands beneath the water, he splashed some on his face in the hopes it would somehow recharge his body. But then he looked in the mirror.
What the hell? Giant chunks of his hair were missing, as if somebody had haphazardly run a razor through it in the dark. He knew damn well it hadn’t happened during the fight.
“Gabriella.”
He flung open the door and braced himself on the doorframe.
She chewed on the corner of her lip. “You weren’t coherent and I had to make an executive decision.”
“What? To make me look like an idiot?” Shane brought his hands up to his head, feeling around the places where there was a road map.
“I was going to fix it as soon as you were awake. I’m pretty good at hair stuff. I didn’t think it would be too difficult to shave yours. It got a little complicated when I couldn’t get the back or the sides. The way you were tossing and turning made it hard to get it even.”
He ground his jaws together. “The question is why.”
“There was a front page article in the Milwaukee Journal about your disappearance, along with a fairly good photo.” She chewed on her fingernail. “I was worried someone might recognize you and thought it would be best to be preemptive.”
“Preemptive?”
“Hey, I saved your ass and got us here in one piece, didn’t I?” She placed her hands on her hips and looked so sexy it was all he could do to keep the edge on his anger. “You’ve done nothing but sleep for two days while I did all the worrying, and now that you’ve got a smidgen of your strength back you think you can second-guess all my decisions.” She walked close and poked him in the chest. “I don’t think so, buster.”
“Buster?” He couldn’t stop the smile, at least he thought he was smiling. With his face still swollen and bruised, he wasn’t sure his facial muscles were working right.
“Don’t worry about your hair. It’ll grow back. Besides, you would have done the same thing under the circumstances.”
“A baseball cap would have done the trick, don’t you think?”
“Everyone and their brother uses that as a disguise. It never works. Besides, I can even it out later.”
“I’ll do it. Where’s the machete you used?”
She plunked the razor in the palm of his hand, along with some clothing as well. Clearly, she’d been busy while he’d been out of it.
“Would you mind getting some food? I’m starving.”
“I’ll get you some soup if you pinky swear you’re not going to go face down in the shower.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Gabriella opened the door to their room, Shane was wearing a pair of jeans that hung low on his torso and nothing else. His newly shaved head glistened with water.
She tried to keep her eyes away from his chest, but that only meant she focused on his arms or legs, or worse yet, the very low rise of his jeans. None of those seemed to be healthy options.
Just because they’d slept together each night didn’t mean she should start thinking about sex. It would only muddy their situation. Besides, the last time she’d initiated something, he’d turned her down.
“I have some food,” she said nervously like some love-struck teenager. Ever since the night she’d kissed him, she’d had this absurd fascination with trying it again. Maybe it was because he basically shut her down. Or maybe she was delusional after spending the last few days virtually alone.
He stalked towards her. The old Shane never walked, and somehow that made her feel positively giddy. Normally, every move he made was more of a mission than anything as simple as getting from one place to another. The shower m
ust have done him a world of good since he’d recovered his swagger.
“I’m starving.” He snatched the bag from her hand and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Is that a thanks for saving your life? Thanks for taking care of things while you hovered near death? Thanks for having the good sense to leave Milwaukee when the papers were plastered with your picture?”
Even though she was being a tad dramatic, he needed to understand all the pressure she’d felt over the last few days. No doubt he was used to life and death drama. She wasn’t. With only herself to rely on, she needed confirmation she’d handled things respectably.
“It’s a thanks for everything. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you.” He took a spoonful of the soup. “I do wish this was a burger with fries, though.”
“You need to start back slow.” Where had that come from? She sounded like her mother. This was getting frightening.
Shane shook his head. “Where are we? What day is it? I vaguely remember leaving Milwaukee.”
“It’s Saturday evening. And we’re in Madison, Wisconsin.”
He nodded and continued eating his soup. After breaking off a chunk of the hard roll included with the soup, he ate that as well. “What did I miss?”
She filled him in as best she could. But she had oodles of questions of her own. “Do you know who did this to you?”
“Cops. O’Brien, the one from court the other day, and another couple I don’t know. They beat the crap out of me, then locked me in the closet in the back of the Blues Stop. I’m not sure why they stopped, but I think somebody came in. Don’t know who. Don’t care. Just glad they did. They must have figured I was close enough to dead that they’d just finish me off later.”
Her breath caught. All night long while she was singing, he was locked up not even twenty feet away. He had been right there the whole time, and she hadn’t known.
“You weren’t being paranoid about the cop thing.” It wasn’t really a question on her part, merely a thought she’d managed to say out loud.
He gave her one of those you’ve-got-to-be-frickin’-kidding-me looks. “Ah, no.”
She wanted to press the issue, but didn’t think he was ready to go down that road right now. “How did you get out of that closet?”
He pondered the thought before responding. “I’m not sure. I came to and the door was locked, but then it wasn’t. I might have been coherent enough at some point to pick the lock, but I don’t think so. Somebody must have helped me. I’m guessing it wasn’t you.”
She shook her head. “You got out, but you didn’t get far.” As much as she tried, she couldn’t piece it together in her head. Was that why Mack was in trouble, because he somehow helped Shane escape? “Why did they go after you? Did it have to do with the Marcos case?”
He rubbed at his temple as if he needed the extra incentive to remember. “I don’t think so. They wanted some kind of video they thought I had.”
“A video of what? And why would they think you had it?” This was a new wrinkle. They thought Shane knew something or had something, or that maybe she did.
“Hell if I know.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the Blues Stop?”
Shane shook his head. “I thought about that even before this happened. Like why did Walt keep the place open when it was obviously leaking money? I still don’t get it unless he was running something illegal through there, maybe drugs or something else.”
She suddenly remembered his father’s visit. It seemed like weeks and weeks ago instead of a few days. “I’m not sure where this fits in, or even if it fits in, but your stepfather stopped by the office to warn you off the Marcos case. I tried to get in touch with you, but I guess you were too busy getting beat up.” She tried for a smile.
“I should have figured he was in on this.” He bit out the words and stopped eating his soup. Halfway finished, he pushed it away. “The prick. I knew he hated me, but I hadn’t figured this much.”
Nervous, she chewed at her lip. This had opened up old wounds for Shane, ones he might never get past. “I’m not saying he was involved. It sounds like it might be a totally separate issue. I’m saying there’s a possibility he wanted to protect you.”
While he didn’t contradict her, he folded his arms across his chest, giving her his response in body language. Even though physically he looked one hundred percent better than he had in the last few days, she could tell he was still exhausted and opted not to press the issue. Still, as far as she was concerned, the jury was still out on both Daniel and Patrick O’Neil.
He eased into a smile. “Even though I appreciate everything you did, for the record, men my age don’t like their heads shaved. Afraid it might not grow back.”
And Gabriella thought she was the only one who had trivial insecurities. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be thirty-five in November. How about you?”
“Just turned thirty-two. But don’t worry about your hair growing back. I saw no evidence of impending bald spots. And at least you don’t have giant Dumbo ears or an oddly shaped head.”
“Gee, thanks. I think.”
“Not to change the subject, but where did you get that scar on your stomach?”
His eyes narrowed and for a minute or two she didn’t think he’d tell her. “I’ve encountered more than my fair share of nasty people. It was a lesson about who I can trust and who I can’t.”
She let him off the hook for the time being, but had every intention of revisiting the question. “I have another question. Were you inside the dumpster at some point?”
“That was my initial idea, since I knew I couldn’t get far. But before I could drag my sorry ass inside, I passed out.”
“Believe me, you were close enough to have the lovely aroma wafting about you.”
“That was my strategy. I wanted to blend into the environment.”
“You did a bang-up job of that.” She didn’t want to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t showed up that night. Would he have been found by the bad guys? Would he have survived if she hadn’t?
He sipped at the bottled water. “What have you been up to?”
“Not much besides worrying myself to death. I was about to go stir crazy watching daytime TV.” She shook her head. “There’s only so much Jerry Springer I can take before my mind starts to turn to mush.”
“I came out of it just in time then, huh?” He tore off another small piece of bread and began to scan one of the papers. “Give me the Cliff’s Notes. Why do they think I killed Mack?”
“As far as I can tell, they’re citing his mismanagement of the club and say that the two of you had an argument about it.” She couldn’t understand why that would be a plausible reason for murder, but she supposed people killed for less. “They’re quoting a source who worked at the Blues Stop as stating there was trouble between the two of you. Since it wasn’t me, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Donna, that only leaves Stu as an option.”
“Unless they made that part up.” He put his finger on the spot in the paper where he was reading and looked at her. “Considering Stu was a friend of Mack’s, we should be suspicious. Mack didn’t have the best judgment in people.” He grinned. “Except, of course, for gorgeous, sexy blues singers. He got that right.”
“I knew underneath all that grouchiness you had a secret crush on me.”
He smiled. “Something like that.”
“Flattery aside, this newspaper article brings up a huge problem.” She crossed her legs and folded her hand across her knee. “They’re also mentioning me as a possible accomplice. Now that you’re coherent, maybe we should entertain the idea of going back to Chicago to get this mess straightened out.”
“We’re not walking in there to be slaughtered. That’s what they’re hoping we’ll do.” He shook his head. “No, I take that back. What they’re hoping for is to find us first. Believe me, if they do, we’ll never make it back there in one piece.”
&nbs
p; “Assuming it’s one giant cover-up, what’s really going on?”
“Drugs are an obvious guess, but I still don’t get how Tony Marcos, Annie, and the Blues Stop are all tied together.”
“Did I tell you I found some blood in the dressing room one day along with a note that said ‘please help me’ in Spanish?”
“No.”
“I must have forgotten since I mentioned it to Mack and he said he spilled wine back there. He also said the cleaning crew is Hispanic and they must have written the note.”
“Could be true, but maybe not.” Shane flexed his jaw.
“What if they were doing something illegal at the Blues Stop after hours? Something where somebody could have gotten hurt.”
“Well, Garrett and I weren’t there all that much until recently.”
“Before they killed Mack they mentioned something about you spending too much time there because of me.” Feeling a lessening in the tension, she managed to roll her eyes at him.
“Little did I know everything that was about to happen.”
“Getting back to the case, and the fact they were looking for some kind of video tape, I assume you never shot surveillance of any kind for Vince Perry?”
“Not really. I took some photos of the scene on my digital, but they’ve been entered into evidence. My pictures are on my jump drive, but they’re insignificant, at least as far as I remember.”
So what did they want that was important enough to kill Shane, Mack, and probably her? They knew for sure cops were involved, but who and how many was still up for discussion.
“The only people who can put you and me together are the people who killed Mack. Why would they be so brazen to come forward unless they knew they wouldn’t be implicated?”
Gabriella had thought about it long and hard over the last couple of days and nothing else made sense. In her own paranoid version, the bad guys had somehow figured out she witnessed the whole thing, which made her as vulnerable as Shane. When she factored in that she suspected the car that had hit Carissa was meant for her, all her self-preservation instincts went into high gear.
