Through Fire (Portland, ME #3)

by Freya Barker

  A sharp intake of breath from Viv draws my attention. Her face is ashen and her hands are covering her mouth.

  “What?” Ike wants to know, tilting his wife’s face with his hands.

  “She told us,” she mumbles behind her hands. “She said she’d witnessed a violent incident and ran.”

  “What else did she say?” Mark jumps on it, but Viv shakes her head.

  “Try asking her,” she bites off, challenging him.

  Mark is the first one to break their stare down and looks up at me with a mix of regret and frustration on his face.

  “What does Ruby have to do with that sexual assault victim?” I ask him, my eyes never leaving his.

  “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know, but I know the FBI had the girl listed as a potential informant in the Delgado case.”

  “And she’s dead,” I point out unnecessarily, reeling with the information and trying to sort out what it all means.

  “Dead?” Ruby’s soft voice sounds from the doorway, where she stands with Dino’s large frame behind her. His hands resting on her shoulders.

  Mark pushes up from his chair, just as I get up from mine. But by the time I move around the table, Mark has beaten me to her. With eyes as big as saucers, she looks from one to the other. Ignoring my brother, I step around him, grab Ruby’s hand and gently pull her away from Dino. I don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitches. Asshole. I also don’t miss the way she takes a wide berth around Mark, her body instinctively pressing against mine. Not going to complain about that.

  “Come sit,” I coax her to the chair next to the one I was sitting in and leave my arm to rest on the back of it.

  Mark sits down again across from us. “I’m sorry I went off on you earlier.”

  “Who’s dead?” Ruby’s voice is soft, but filled with determination, as she chooses to ignore Mark’s apology.

  “A young girl. Victim of sexual assault.” This time he is much more careful with his words, and his tone, as he briefly explains. Still Ruby winces at the words, but before she can react, Mark continues. “Why did you run?”

  Her derisive snort sounds harsh in the kitchen as everyone quietly listens. “No offense, but the ones I’ve come in contact with over the years have hardly been upstanding citizens. There was no help to be found there,” she states matter-of-factly, before shrugging her shoulders. “Doesn’t matter now.”

  “Why do you say that?” Mark wants to know.

  “Because you’ll take me in. Hand me over to the Boston PD, and that’ll be the end of that,” she says with unexpected heat, as she leans forward on the table.

  “Hold on,” I direct her. “No one is taking you anywhere.” The last I accompany with an unmistakable glare at my brother.

  “He’s right,” he directs at Ruby, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m hardly on good terms myself. I’d still like to know what happened.”

  After a heavy silence, and a long look around the kitchen at every person present, Ruby seems to come to a decision when her eyes land and stay on Mark. “Tell me something?” she asks. “In those reports you’ve seen, was there any mention of arrests being made? Any mention of the men I identified and named? I did, you know?” she states, as disbelief is evident on Mark’s face. “I knew three of them. I named them. Several times. When the detective who was interviewing me shrugged it off, not once, but a number of times, I realized I was on my own.” She looks down at the hands clasped in her lap. “When they let me go after three days in their holding cell, one of those three men was waiting across the street from the police station. And then I knew—I couldn’t trust anyone. Especially not the police.”

  In the silence that follows, the list of questions in my head grows. What was she doing there with Delgado? Why? Those seem to be the ones that dominate the many others. I’m surprised by the lack of tears. The woman sits there dry-eyed, her face almost devoid of color, her back ramrod straight; the only outward sign of distress, the shaking of the hands in her lap. But I can see the hopelessness underneath the unemotional exterior; smell the fear thick in the air.

  “Someone tipped them off,” Mark bites off.

  “It would seem so,” Ruby answers with deceptive calm.

  Ruby

  Last time I checked my alarm, it was three in the morning. This time it shows only half an hour has passed since.

  I rolled into bed a few hours ago, exhausted, but the moment my head hit the pillow my brain went into overdrive.

  I’d opened up all right. All over the table, in a kitchen full to capacity. If ever I could trust anyone, it would be the people gathered at that time. With the exception of Tim’s brother—for obvious reasons.

  Tim’s arm had stayed around my back the entire time. At some point, he even covered my hands with one of his own. Discussions were flying around, everyone weighing in with their ideas, their opinions. I just shut down. Resigned to have my future, or lack thereof, in the hands of these people. In the hands of one cop.

  It surprised me when Mark was the one who suggested someone take me home. I faintly registered the ensuing tug of war over whether I should go with Viv and Ike, have Dino drop me off at the shelter, or even go with Tim to his place. Finally I announced I’d be going home—to my place. I didn’t have the energy to fight Tim when he announced he’d stay with me. I have to hand it to him though, he never asked a single question. Despite the fact I could see each and every one of them playing out on his face.

  Not a single one. All he said was, “Get some rest,” before grabbing the throw from the back of the couch and stretching out, a small red pillow tucked behind his head. That was hours ago. A soft snore from the direction of the living room was proof at least one of us was getting some shuteye.

  Grudgingly I get out of bed, the urge to pee becoming impossible to ignore. After taking care of business, I dry my hands on the towel and walk into the bedroom where the sight of Tim sitting on the edge of my bed stops me in my tracks. My first reaction is to look down at my state of dress, which is minimal at best. Nothing but a large men’s t-shirt, bought for three dollars at a thrift store and serving as nightshirt, and a pair of white cotton undies. At least my torso and ass are covered, but the dimples covering my substantial thighs are not. Wonderful.

  “Can’t sleep?” Tim’s voice, raspy with sleep, drags me from the intense study of my cellulite.

  “No,” I respond, tugging uselessly at the hem of my shirt. “What are you doing here?” They say the best defense is offense, and I’m putting it to the test. Unfortunately, Tim doesn’t seem impressed.

  “You’ve got to get some sleep, Ruby,” he says, completely ignoring my question as he gets up and takes a few steps toward me. I try hard to ignore the way his undershirt stretches across the expanse of his chest. He must’ve taken off his sweater last night. Socks and boots too, from the look of the nice-looking bare feet, sticking out of the legs of his jeans. Gracias a Dios, he’s still wearing jeans.

  Putting his arm around my shoulder, he guides me to the bed and urges me to lie down. He pulls the covers over me, and to my surprise, lies down next to me on top of the bedding. I’m not sure what to make of it. Under any other circumstances, having a man crawl in bed with me would have crystal clear implications. But this is Tim, and I’ve already made the mistake once of trying to anticipate his expectations. I won’t be doing that again.

  “Would it help to talk about it?” he asks tentatively.

  “About what exactly?” The sarcastic tone I can’t hold back doesn’t escape Tim’s notice. From his position, with his arms folded behind his head, he turns only his eyes to me.

  “How about we start with what is keeping you up?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” I roll on my side so I face him. “I keep waiting for a knock on the door, announcing the police are here to take me away.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, settling on his side, facing me with one hand tucked under his pillow.

  “Bu
t your brother...” I start before he cuts me off.

  “Was suspended from active duty today,” he fills me in.

  “Oh.”

  We lie there, quietly looking at each other. It feels weirdly intimate, despite the fact our bodies aren’t touching anywhere. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed from sleep, making the blue stand out even brighter. Lines fan out from the corners, witness to years of laughter. In contrast, the furrow between his heavy eyebrows shows those years were not all worry-free. Deep crescent-shaped grooves curve around his strong mouth, and his square chin sports a greying, dark russet scruff.

  “Sleep,” he mutters, his voice almost willing my eyelids to close.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tim

  The silent vibration of my cell, in the pocket of my jeans, wakes me up.

  I’m still in the same position I was in when I finally fell asleep, which was well after Ruby’s eyes closed and her breathing slowed down.

  I can’t remember ever experiencing anything like those minutes we spent studying each other’s face. There’d been nothing furtive about it. It felt like we were trying to learn each other. Touching without hands or mouths, and yet feeling oddly connected.

  Ruby did move in her sleep, having kicked off the blankets that are now twisted around her legs. Her hands are tucked under her cheek, and one leg is stretched, while the other is pulled up to the side. Both modest and wanton at the same time, much like the contradiction that she is.

  My eyes follow the lines of her legs, from her small feet and narrow ankles, to the muscular calves and soft, thick thighs. I don’t allow myself to linger on the dark hint of pubic hair behind the white cotton of her panties. The sight of a mark on the tender inside of her leg has me lean in a little. A tattoo is my first thought, but as I get closer, I can see the skin is raised. A circle with on the inside two elegant letters: C and D. Jesus.

  I must’ve said that out loud, because the next thing I know Ruby is scrambling for the covers.

  “He branded you?” I grind out between clenched teeth, as I jump out of bed and glare down at her. It’s no surprise to see fear on her face. “Like cattle? He marked you as his?”

  Recognizing my anger is not directed at her, she pulls herself into a sitting position, carefully keeping her bottom half covered. She looks me straight in the eyes as she nods. “At first, every year to keep it from healing,” she says in a soft but steady voice. “For protection, he said. All the girls in his stable have this.”

  I sag down on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. Every year? All the girls in his stable? Holy fucking hell.

  “All his whores,” she states bluntly. When I look at her, there’s a challenge in her eyes. Daring me to react. I can’t help it, I can feel the twitch of my face before I can stop it, but it’s too late.

  Her eyes turn down as she flips back the blankets, gets up from the bed, and walks into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

  Somehow I feel like I’ve been tested. I failed miserably.

  -

  “Veldman! My office in five.”

  The last few days of this week haven’t gotten any better, and my boss calling me into his office at the end of the afternoon on a Friday, does not bode well for my weekend. Call it the cherry on top.

  Yesterday morning, I’d sat stupidly on the side of Ruby’s bed, waiting fruitlessly for her to emerge from the bathroom where she’d holed up. When after ten minutes of silence I’d heard the shower start running, the message was clear. Already cutting it close for the site inspection scheduled for that morning, I got dressed and beelined it home for a shower and change. By the time I parked my car across from the lot, I could see the team already assembled on the other side of the street. A car door slamming shut behind me drew my attention. I almost groaned out loud when I saw Brenda walk toward me, a takeout coffee in each hand, and a predatory little smile on her carefully made-up face.

  “Well, hello, handsome,” she virtually cooed, sending an involuntary shiver down my back.

  “Morning.” I tried to convey a business-only attitude, but I don’t think she got the message. She pressed the coffee into my hand, making sure to drag her fingers along the backs of mine.

  “Just the way you like it.” If I had any doubts about her intentions, her suggestive voice and words would’ve taken care of those. The lady was determined, I had to give her that.

  Shaking my head, I’d followed her exaggerated sway of hips across the street where Steve Cletor, my boss, was closely observing our approach.

  “Glad you could join us,” he said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm from his voice, as he looked pointedly at the twin Starbucks cups we were holding.

  Things had gone downhill from there.

  After inspecting the site and discussing a proposed construction schedule, we walked back to the parking lot. I’d been distracted by the memory of the sad resignation on Ruby’s face, as she disappeared into the bathroom this morning, and the sharp pang of regret in the pit of my stomach that resulted.

  “No thanks, I’ll just get a ride with Tim.”

  Brenda’s annoying voice pulls me out of my head, and I’m surprised to see her turn away from Steve and march my way.

  “My car won’t start,” she explains.

  It was a load of crock. I knew it, she knew I knew it, but with my boss watching our interaction closely, I waved to the passenger side. “Get in.”

  By the time I dropped her off at her hotel, I’d told her in no uncertain terms that whatever she was hoping to accomplish—I was not interested. It was obvious she wasn’t happy in the way she slammed my door. Back at the office, Steve had cornered me, coming out of the elevator.

  “Anything I should know?” He didn’t need to explain what he was talking about.

  “Other than that I’m not looking forward to spending the next year working with that woman? No. There is absolutely nothing for you to know.” I could tell he was taken aback. I’ve always presented an even keeled, almost laid back attitude, but this time my temper got the better of me.

  The entire rest of my Thursday was spent buried under a pile of work, with clear instructions not to disturb me for anything. It wasn’t hard to put the scene with Brenda out of my head but much harder to forget about certain chocolate brown eyes, openly reading my face in the dim light of dawn. Not to mention the recollection of that ugly mark on those soft, creamy thighs. And all that implied.

  I stayed in the office late, but I spent most of my time thinking.

  By this morning, after a rather restless night’s sleep, I’d come to the conclusion that taking some distance from Ruby and The Skipper might not be a bad idea. I needed my life to be predictable, organized, and safe. That’s how I designed it. Growing up with parents, who were just two aging hippies, still living the seventies free love movement, even within their marriage, had made for almost constant emotional chaos. That’s why instead of pursuing dreams, which is what my folks existed on, I opted for a dependable existence. Regardless of any emotional involvement I might feel, any physical attraction I might have, Ruby’s life and history screams chaos. No, I was going to have to keep her firmly in the friend zone.

  Of course the rest of my day was spent reconsidering.

  -

  “Steve,” I announce myself, as I walk into my boss’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

  The older man lifts his head and indicates the chair on the other side of his desk. “Sit,” he says, folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

  Twenty minutes later, I am escorted to my car by a security guard, with a box of my belongings in my hands. Numb, I drive my brand new Audi off the lot, after handing in my badge and parking pass at the gate. I hesitate only for a second, before turning in the direction of the water.

  I’m not quite sure how I got here, but one thing stands out in the blurred haze of my mind as I push open the door to The Skipper.

  “Do you want to see the menu?” A tight, tremul
ous smile greets me when I sit down at the bar.

  Ruby.

  Ruby

  I should be hurt. Disappointed at the very least, but the moment Tim walks in with confusion in his eyes, and the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, all that disappears.

  Hurt had been my first reaction Thursday morning. But then Viv had shown up, checking in on me. I’d hurried to the door, thinking perhaps Tim had come back. Hoping maybe the connection I’d felt to him in the early hours of the morning, had not just been one-sided. I had to fight to keep the disappointment from my face when I found Viv on the doorstep, coffee and a bag of pastries in her hands.

  She asked how my night had been, to which I simply answered it had been fine. With a pronounced lift of her eyebrows, she asked about Tim. Without going into detail, I told her he’d slept on the couch and left first thing this morning. She almost seemed disappointed, but quickly covered it by offering me the day off.

  I took it and ended up spending some time at Florence House that afternoon, filling Pam in on all that had happened. I didn’t hold anything back from her. Talking it through helped put some things in perspective. Pam pointed out it was hardly fair to Tim to expect him to embrace my background without thought. That it was completely normal for him to react with shock.

  Today I’d come into work at my regular time. Did my regular things. Part of me felt that everything should’ve changed somehow, that with all the revelations of Wednesday night, people would certainly look at me differently. I was surprised, no one did.

  Matt’s, “Hey, Ruby,” was the same as every other day, as was Viv’s, “Morning!” Only when Dino walked into the kitchen, took off his coat, and walked over to pull me in a tight hug, did I feel a shift.