“Come on. Tell me.”
“You know what? Forget it. He’s an idiot. It’s not worth mentioning.”
“No, I want to hear what he said. Tell me.”
“I can’t. It’s mean and heartless.”
Danielle glares at me. “Tell me!” she demands.
“All right. He said that when he left town to join the army, you were a virgin…that he did not get you pregnant…I know, right? Lying bastard.”
Dead silence.
Danielle’s face turns green, and after about a minute of shooting me an incredulous stare, she rockets out of bed and runs to the apartment door, locking both the main doorknob and the security chain.
“Did you tell any of this to anyone at all?” she asks, frantic.
“No. Because it’s not true… right?”
She leans back against the door. A second later, her legs buckle and she crumples to the floor. Tears fall. Her body heaves.
“Danielle?” I repeat her name to get her attention.
“It’s true.”
Mary Mother of God.
It’s true?
What sorcery is this?
I cross my legs and sit beside her, pulling her into my arms to help her calm down. “It’s true? Good Lord. I’m sorry, Danielle, I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, I didn’t know you’d be this upset… or that it would end up being true. It’s okay. Whatever it is that happened, it’s in the past. None of it matters.”
I’m lying my ass off right now. It matters, all right. Reid’s reputation is shit in my household. I have no doubt that if my father or big brother ever sees Reid in person, violence against him will follow. Slurs will be hurled. Shit will hit the fan. And all of that slow-burning wrath in waiting is sure to be compounded by one thousand if I spend more time getting to know him. He’ll go from persona non grata to lets’ form an angry mob and chase him out of state.
“I wanted to tell you,” she admits in between sniffles and sobs. “I couldn’t.”
I rub her back and pull her tighter to my side. “You can tell me all about it now, or whenever you’re ready. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I was so upset that he left, I lashed out. I slept with one of the guys in our senior year. It was a one-time thing, and when I got pregnant, I couldn’t hurt Mom and Dad that way, you know? It was easier to say that Reid did it… to blame him. God, I should have told you the truth. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s over and done with. And I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Thank you, Robin…but it’s okay now.”
I study her face. “Mom and Dad know?”
She nods.
“What about Josh?”
“Yes. I should have told you too.”
I should be mad as hell for being left out of this family secret, but the big picture is it makes my being with Reid a whole lot easier. “It’s totally okay, sis.”
“Though… I wonder why he told you after all this time.”
Crap.
This time, the dead silence is on my end. She looks over at me. “Do you have any idea why he said anything?”
“It’s my fault. I confronted him and accused him of hurting you… because something happened between Reid and me in the last few days,” I admit.
“You and Reid.” Her crying ceases, and her eyes narrow as she studies me, now armed with this chilling new information. I’m not sure if to expect her to pass out from the heartbreak that I broke a cardinal rule of sisterhood, or if she’ll reach her hands up and rip every strand of hair from my head. “You slept with Reid?”
I rest my head in my hands. I want to die from shame. “Yes. I know, I’m a total slut. I am so sorry. It won’t happen again, Danielle. I promise.”
“You and Reid.” This time, she nods as she repeats it.
“Feel free to bitch-slap me, anytime at all.”
“I won’t, and I believe I can live with that.”
“What? Why?”
Danielle pushes off the floor with both hands and gets to her feet. She wipes the tears and snot off her face with the back of her hand. “Because…because me and Barclay.”
I look up at her from my spot on the floor. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down. She and Barclay? They can’t be any more different from each other. They’re like comparing oil and water. Night and day. Country western music and Goth. But Barclay is a sweetie. He’s sensitive, feels emotions so deeply, on a level that’s more empathetic than most men, and he would never hurt Danielle.
“You and Barclay?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“How long?”
She covers her eyes in embarrassment. “A year.”
“Jesus. You’re a vault! Barclay too! You’ve been seeing each other for a whole year?”
It takes me a while to think back. Yes. It makes perfect sense. The hushed tones. Her unexpected appearances at some of our gigs that I had never mentioned to her. The other night at the bar when Barclay went off the deep end that I sang that angry, sad song for Reid. That time I walked into Mom’s pantry and found him picking food from her hair.
“I’m the only one who doesn’t know too, right?” She doesn’t answer, but I don’t need words. It’s written all over her face. “Did he even go to Amargosa Valley at all? Or was he in the damned camper van road trip with you, Mom and Dad? Wait. Don’t bother answering. I can tell…and I think I can live with that too, sis.”
“Thank God! It’s been hard sneaking around behind your back.”
“You don’t have to anymore. And I won’t do any tiptoeing of any kind with Reid.”
“Great!”
“For now, we’re just starting to get to know each other, so let’s just leave it at that. I haven’t spent that much time with him.”
“Okay.”
The loaner phone buzzes in my pocket. “It must be Reid. That reminds me. I have to give him the meekest, sweetest apology for treating him like shit and accusing him of lying his ass off.” There’s a clicking sound at the door as I answer the phone. “Hi Reid. Can you hold a second?”
“Sure,” he answers.
I mute the line. “But first, we’d better unlock the door for Mom and Dad before they wonder whose SUV is outside.”
“True. Coming, Mom,” Danielle shouts, reaching for the door to unlock it.
I turn off the mute feature on the phone. “Hi Reid. Hey, I need to apologize for what I said earlier.”
“Forget about that for a second. Is he there?”
“Who?”
“Dave.”
“Why would he be here?”
“Get out of there now! Get in my car and bring your sister and parents to my place. Now. I’ll explain later.”
“You’re not making sense, Reid.”
“Robin! Listen to me. Leave the house now!”
“We’re not in the house. We’re in the apartment above the garage.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Danielle is jiggling the door knob. “That’s strange,” she says.
I cover the phone ear speaker to block out Reid’s hysterics. “What is?”
“It’s not opening. Mom?” she calls through the door. “Really funny, Mom, locking us in from out there.”
No one answers.
Danielle pounds on the door. “Mom?”
I swallow hard. “Reid?” I shout into the phone, but the call must have disconnected. Reid’s words sink in when I start to smell smoke. I hear a car horn blaring from outside, so I look out the front window.
Good Lord, no.
Dave?
Hasn’t this man done enough? Apparently not.
“Call 9-1-1!” I tell my sister.
Sliding open the double-hung casement window transports me back to my panic-stricken state as I relive the last fire he caused. Except now, Danielle is with me, we’re on the second floor, this window is metal and only opens about four inches, and Reid is not here to save us.
“Dave, unlock this door right now!” I s
cream down at him.
“Or what?” he smugly shouts back.
“You won’t get away with this!”
“I have before, and even if I don’t, I’ve got nothing more to lose.”
“Please, just open the door. Danielle is here. She’s done nothing to you.”
“Collateral damage is inevitable, Robin.”
“Why do you want to hurt me like this?” I plead.
“Maybe you should give me an answer to the same question.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“Tell me something. Do you think I’ll miss you when you’re gone?”
I don’t have a comeback for that stupid question. Dave is not going to let us go. I ignore him altogether and turn to Danielle after she ends the 9-1-1 call.
“What do you have around here that can break through the glass in this window?”
It’s time for us to save ourselves.
Otherwise, one wrong move and we both go up in flames.
Chapter 18
Reid
Robin’s ex-boyfriend is my perp.
Dave Walters is Davison Grant is Dave Grant.
Davison Grant Walters.
It’s all the same person.
The irony is so rich and acrid, I can taste it.
My fingers can’t fly fast enough to get Jared or Geoff on the phone. It’s as though we’ve all been working in isolation, studying different angles of this dickbag Dave.
Jared and Geoff were not at Whiskey Jacks on the night we butt heads with Dave Grant. On their own, they don’t have the tools to make the connection with the employee files that Mason Industries HR sent over, because those files identified Davison Walters as one of the handful of potential disgruntled senior managers.
Geoff spent hours of his time pouring over the video footage with an unknown face in shadow under that company baseball cap. Even now as I picture Dave’s face, there’s nothing about his features that would lead me to connect the video feed images to him.
I have all puzzle pieces, and I’ve been off work to take care of Robin, who was victimized by This. Same. Fucking. Dave.
I want to kick myself for not realizing it sooner.
Neither Jared nor Geoff takes my call on the first try, so I grab my keys and get into my personal car. Time to hustle my ass over to Robin’s parents’ house. They can hate me all they want, but Dave is the true enemy. Sure, it can turn out that he’s staking out one of the Mason Industries properties, but something tells me that he’s not done with Robin yet.
Robin has a fifteen-minute head start on me. I speed out of my condo’s underground parking lot, burning rubber as I merge into traffic like a madman. It’s a twenty-five-minute drive to Robin’s family home, and my theory about Dave’s next target is confirmed when she mentions at the end of the call that she and her sister are trapped.
I’m less than five minutes away now, but we’re dealing with a crazed idiot with a taste for blowing shit up lightning fast with crude incendiary devices. Police, fire and ambulance response times tend to be longer in the outskirts. I swear to God if he harms a hair on Robin’s head, I will kill the motherfucker.
Fear starts to creep in.
I won’t get there in time.
But someone else does.
I peel up to the sidewalk behind my SUV that Robins drove here. Mr. Sparrow, Robin’s father, is standing on his front lawn. A Remington twelve-gauge shotgun is cradled in his arms. He racks a load and points it at Dave, who’s on the man’s driveway.
Dave is trespassing, unarmed and looking up at the fire he started in the garage. He has a vicious, twisted smile on his sour face. I’m the one who should be smiling at the fact that Dave must have a death wish, given that the barrel of the shotgun trained on him is being held by a man who has the right to protect his property and his kin. There’s not an ounce of remorse in my mind as I hope that justice can be swift for a change.
I jump out of my car, snatch the tire iron in my trunk, and cross their paths in a run. It’s hard to get shot when you’re running. Taking the concrete steps up to Danielle’s apartment two at a time, I get to the landing at the top.
“Robin! If you’re still in there, I need you to step away from the door.”
It feels like déjà vu.
The adrenaline is flowing, so swinging the tire iron ends up crashing down so hard on the door that it breaks the padlock off the locking hasp and staple, and splinters the wood. I kick the door open at the same time that the gun goes off down in the yard. Ignoring the men, I rush inside to find Robin with one leg hanging out the window, and Danielle getting ready to follow her.
Robin pulls her leg back inside. “Reid, you’re here. Thank God!” she cries.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I tell them. “But keep your heads down. We’ll wait at the top of the landing until your dad puts down the rifle.”
“Hey Reid,” Danielle waves.
I’ve got nothing.
The three of us crouch down at the top of the landing and wait.
“Dad’s the one shooting?” Robin asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“He never misses.”
I know it’s cold, but after what Dave has done to Robin, Mr. Sparrow’s track record had better hold up.
“Y’all can come down from there now,” Mr. Sparrow shouts calmly.
“Dad, are you okay?” Robin asks as we get to the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m fine. Mom’s out back. She’s safe.” Leaning the shotgun against the front door, he walks over to his daughters, stands between them, and pull them into his arms, ready to fuss over their wellbeing like a father should. “Did you two get hurt?”
“We’re fine, Dad. Reid is too.”
His eyes crawl over my face, and he gives me a nod. That’s good enough for me.
“Is Dave dead?” Robin asks.
“When I aim my rifle, I make sure I have cause to, and I shoot to kill, Robin. And you know that I never miss.”
A man after my heart.
The blaring sound of approaching fire trucks are like music to my ears. There was only smoke in the apartment upstairs, but downstairs, the contents inside the garage are ablaze. There will definitely be some property damage, but everyone who matters will live another day.
As for Robin and me, time will heal, and make way for more.
Epilogue
Reid - One Month Later
“I can’t believe we salvaged so many things from my place,” Robin says on our third trip from her rental house today. The fire investigators took close to three weeks to examine the evidence, but they finally cleared the scene for re-entry inside.
There are so few items for her to salvage. A handful of clothes, a charred part of one of her guitars and half of her song lyric book, some jewelry, two night tables, and most of her metal kitchen utensils. Geoff did take a look at her charred laptop and felt pretty sure that he could recover her data. What I’ve learned about Robins is that to her, the glass is half-full.
Robin had planned to move back to her parents’ house. The fire at Danielle’s apartment caused her to change her plans, as Danielle would also need interim shelter arrangements while the insurance for repairs got sorted out. Instead, Robin is renting a temporary place of her own in a tiny apartment motel just two blocks from the condo building where I live. I would say that’s a win-win.
I can’t say for certain what we are. It’s way too early to speculate. She says we’re dating. We’ve seen each other every day for the past month, and I still can’t get enough of her. To me, we’re way past dating.
But whatever.
I place the last box into the back of my SUV and shut the trunk door. “This should be it for this trip.”
“Nice. Thanks for letting me leave the big stuff in your storage locker while I’m in transition,” she adds, following me to the passenger side.
I open the front passenger door for her, and she jumps in.
“No problem,” I tell
her, and get in the driver seat.
“I really owe you.”
I clasp my hand over hers. “No, you don’t.”
“You’ve been a big help to me. I can’t thank you enough.”
“If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to add to your punishment,” I say with a grin. Who knew that innocent little Robin was into spanking. It’s one of the many things that keep surprising me about how much we fit.
A playful smile lifts up on her face. “You promise?”
“You know I do. In fact…we’re leaving this stuff in the back and taking a detour.”
“Where to?”
“My place,” I announce. “And that ass of yours will be so raw when I’m done with you.”
She’s practically bouncing in her seat beside me for the entire way home. Before Robin, I never met a woman who enjoyed being spanked as much as I loved doling it out—for fun, of course. We both get a hell of a lot of enjoyment out of it.
I park in my underground spot. Robin hangs off my arm as we walk to the elevators, and for the ride up. She all but runs into my condo unit once I unlock the front door.
Then, she stops short. Her mouth drops open.
“Oh, my word!” she drawls when she sees the surprise waiting for her in the foyer. It’s a restored Fender guitar and carrying case, almost identical to the one that was destroyed in the fire. “Reid! When did you do this?”
I grin. There are perks to running a business with my four closest friends. “Jared took care of it for me. It’s missing all the custom accents on your old one, but it was too close to pass up.”
“Thank you…it’s gorgeous.”
“You like?”
“Gosh yes! I love it.” She starts to fan her eyes with both hands. I’ve seen her cry a few times now. I won’t ever get used to it, but at least these are happy tears. “What can I say to the man who gave me the other half of my music back?”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy it. Aren’t you going to open the case? For all you know, I just got you an empty case.”
Robin steps up to the black hardshell case, picks it up by the handle with reverence, and carried it into the living room. Sitting on the sofa, she places it on her lap, and after an intense moment of soaking up the moment, she opens it. It’s more face fanning, and chirps of thanks. She helps me see how enjoyable life can be when we cherish the little things.
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