by Dinah McCall
“Shut up,” Freddie mumbled, and pulled a pillow over his head.
“Somebody went and hit me,” Dale muttered, staring angrily at Carney, who was on his way to the bathroom.
As soon as the door shut on Carney’s departure, silence resumed. Dale glared one last time at the bathroom door, then rolled over on his side and settled back into his comfort spot. Within a minute, he was fast asleep again.
Carney, however, was in no mood to sleep. His nerves were jumpy, and his head was pounding. He needed a drink, and he needed to score. He was coming down and in no mood to start puking his guts. Naked as the day he was born, he stepped into the shower and began scrubbing himself, noticing, as he did, the dirt and bits of grass and leaves gathering in the bottom of the tub. It must have been one hell of a tear they’d been on, but he couldn’t remember where they’d been.
The hot water felt good as he scrubbed at his skin, using almost all the motel minisoap. It wasn’t until he bent over to wash his feet that he had a flashback of falling forward. Slowly, he straightened, then stood without moving, trying to focus on the fuzzy images floating through his brain. Water pelted his belly. The washcloth hung limply from his hand. As the steam rose around him, he closed his eyes and saw a face. A woman’s face. His forehead furrowed. But where? Where had he seen her? He took a deep breath and made himself relax, using the needle-like spray of water as a point of concentration. For a few seconds he saw nothing but the back of his eyelids, and then suddenly another face flashed before his eyes. This time of a man—a big man. There was a gun, and someone yelling.
Carney’s eyes flew open. He saw himself being thrown facedown on the ground and could almost taste the coppery tang of his own blood as he had bitten his tongue. But where in hell had…
The Landing. They’d been at the Landing all night, drinking and watching flotsam from the flood-swollen river, making bets on how many beers Dale could drink before he puked. Someone, maybe him, maybe Freddie, had suggested they go clean up in one of Daddy’s cabins before they took themselves home to their respective wives.
He stared at the wall, oblivious to the mildewed grout between the tiles or the squeak of rusty pipes as the water pelted down. A car horn honked outside the bathroom window. Startled, he turned toward the sound, and as he did, he remembered.
That bitch! She’d screamed like bloody murder and brought the bastard from hell out of hiding. He’d tried to tell them he was just fooling around, but no one would listen. That half-naked SOB had put his face in the dirt and then threatened to shoot off his balls if he so much as moved.
Carney dropped the washcloth into the tub and reached down and turned off the water. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he began yanking it across his body in angry swipes. With water droplets still clinging to his skin, he strode from the bathroom, letting the door hit the wall with a thump.
When Dale jumped out of bed with his fists doubled, Carney sneered.
“You stink, little brother. Get yourself cleaned up. I got someplace to go.”
Freddie rolled over and gave Carney a disgusted look.
“In case you don’t remember it, you’re flat broke, and I’m not giving you a dime to put up your nose or down your gullet.”
“I don’t want no damned dope,” Carney said. “I want payback.”
This time Freddie sat up. He’d seen that look on Carney’s face before.
“The last time you wanted revenge, you wound up in jail. You willin’ to give it another go?”
Carney didn’t hesitate. “No man puts my face in the dirt and lives to tell about it.”
Dale blanched. “I ain’t havin’ nothin’ to do with no killin’.”
Carney sneered. “I don’t remember askin’ you, little brother. Now get your clothes on. You, too, Freddie. I’ve got a notion to go pay Daddy a visit.”
“You can leave me out of it, too,” Freddie said.
Carney turned to his brother and grinned. “No way. You’re going to take me out there. I can’t drive, remember? Not since I got that last DUI.”
“No, I’m not,” Freddie said. “You’re doped up crazy. Just let it go.”
Carney’s grin widened. “I wonder what Wanda would think if she knew her sweet little Freddie was fuckin’ the checker at the Supermart?”
Freddie’s face turned a bright, angry red as he stood.
“The day you was born, Daddy should’a put you in a burlap sack like he once did my pups and tossed you in the Tallahatchie.”
Carney’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Maybe so, but he didn’t. Now, you gonna do what I said, or you wanna go down to the motel office and pay yourself up for the month? ’Cause if I have to start talkin’, Wanda ain’t ever gonna let you back in the house.”
Freddie stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Carney looked at Dale.
Dale paled and started grabbing at his clothes.
“You’re the one that oughta been drowned,” Carney said. “I’m goin’ across the street to get myself some coffee. Give me some money.”
Dale dropped his wallet on the bed between them, wincing as Carney tore out the bills and then tossed it aside.
“You took my gas money, Carney. I need gas money to get to work next week.”
“You ain’t never been short on gas. Just fart into the tank,” Carney said, and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Shut your mouth,” Dale muttered, although he purposely waited until Carney was too far away to hear what he said.
“Wait,” Ginny said, and stopped beneath a tree. “Something’s sticking my ankle.”
“Let me look,” Sully said, and squatted beside her. “Put your foot on my knee.”
“My shoes are muddy. It will get your pants dirty.”
He looked up. “They’ll wash.”
Ginny did as he asked, bracing herself by holding on to his shoulder as he settled her shoe on his knee. They’d been walking for the better part of an hour, talking about what she remembered of the six other girls in that ill-fated class, but without much luck. They’d been so young, and it was so long ago.
A puff of breeze slipped beneath her hair, lifting the weight of it from her neck. She chewed the edge of her lower lip and tried not to focus on the width of Sullivan Dean’s shoulders as he slipped a finger between her sock and her skin.
“Here it is,” Sully said, as he stood. “A sharp piece of grass had gone through your sock. Does it feel better?”
Ginny found herself staring—subconsciously waiting for something more from him than just words. Finally she realized he had asked a question.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Your leg…does it feel better?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ginny said, and looked away. “The river must be close.”
Sully tried not to frown, but his frustration level with this woman was growing. One moment she would be friendly and at ease with him, and the next she seemed nervous and distant. He was tired of walking on eggshells around her.
“Virginia?”
That got her attention.
“I’d rather you didn’t—”
“I know all about what you don’t like,” he said shortly. “What I don’t know is what I’m doing wrong. If I’ve offended you, or said something that hurt your feelings, I apologize.”
Ginny looked startled. “Of course you haven’t. Why would you say something like that?”
“Because of the way you’ve been acting. If it’s not that, then what? We’ve got to get through this time together whether you like it or not, and it would be a hell of a lot easier on both of us if you would just tell me when to back off instead of clamming up and changing the damned subject.”
Ginny sighed. He made her nervous, but she didn’t know why, so how was she going to explain it to him?
“It’s not you,” she said. “I swear.” She slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and gave it a tug. “Walk with me,” she said. “I th
ink better when I’m moving.”
“Yeah, so do I,” he said.
“See, already we have something in common,” she said.
“We already had something in common,” Sully countered.
Ginny stopped. “What?”
“Georgia. You forget. She’s the reason I’m here.”
Ginny’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t forget anything, ” she said briefly, and started walking without looking to see if he would follow.
He did.
“Talk to me, Ginny. Tell me what’s on your mind. Why do you keep turning hot and cold on me? This isn’t good, you know. I can’t protect you if you don’t trust me.”
Ginny hesitated, then turned, facing him with a determined tilt to her chin.
“I do trust you.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not used to depending on anyone but myself. I’ve been alone most of my adult life. My parents are dead. I have few living relatives, none of which I see.”
“Isn’t there someone special? Maybe a man in your life? Is that what this is all about?”
The minute Sully asked, he found himself holding his breath, almost dreading the answer.
Ginny snorted in an unladylike manner. “The last man in my life slept with the woman who lived in the apartment across the hall from me. That was four years ago, and I haven’t bothered getting to know another one since.”
Sully felt guilty at the spurt of pleasure he had in knowing she was unattached.
“That must have been tough.”
She shrugged. “I learned a hard lesson that day, and I have no intention of ever repeating the mistake.”
The moment she said it, she knew what was wrong. She was keeping her distance from Sullivan Dean because she was attracted to him and she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be hurt like that ever again.
Sully took her hand and gave it a tug as they resumed their walk. Startled by the feel of his fingers curling around her palm, she almost stumbled. But he caught her beneath her elbow, steadied her without comment, and then once again resumed the lead, still holding her hand.
A couple of minutes later, Sully suddenly stopped and turned. Ginny pulled out of his grasp and earned herself another hard glance, which she promptly ignored.
“I’m curious,” he said. “I never heard Georgia speak of you, yet you must have been quite close at one time in your lives.”
“I never heard Georgia speak of you, either, but it’s obvious you cared a lot for her.”
“Her brother, Tommy, was and is my best friend. I met them when they moved to Connecticut. She was almost seven, I think.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “That was right after the fire at Montgomery Academy. Before that, we lived next door to each other. After they moved, I still visited her in the summers, and we were roommates in college for one semester until I changed my major.”
“It’s strange we never met. I visited Georgia at college more than once.”
Ginny frowned. “She used to have a crush on this one guy, I remember. Only he was older than her, and she said he couldn’t see her for the trees.”
He looked away. “That would have been me. I saw her, all right, but not as a sweetheart. I’d watched her grow up, for God’s sake. To me, she was just Tommy’s little sister.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “How ironic. I had a crush on Tommy once. I think I was nine or ten. It lasted until the day he dropped a cricket in the pocket of my shirt. After that, I thought boys were stupid.” The corner of her mouth tilted in a wry grin. “Some days, I still think that.”
Sully laughed aloud, and Ginny’s heart stopped. It was the first time she’d seem him really laugh, and the expression completely changed his appearance.
“You should do that more often,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Laugh. It looks good on you.”
Disgusted with herself for having said too much, Ginny started to look away when Sully’s hand suddenly cupped her cheek.
“You’re doing it again,” he said. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You say something nice and then you get all prickly. What are you thinking?”
Her eyes narrowed angrily. “I thought you were my bodyguard, not my shrink.”
“Ginny.”
She sighed. “It has nothing to do with you,” she muttered. “It’s me.”
“I disagree. I’m the one who’s on the receiving end of your attitudes, honey.”
The sarcasm in his voice pushed her last button. She spun on him then, her fists doubled, her voice shaking.
“You want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong! I’m attracted to you, and I don’t want to be attracted to you. Someone is trying to kill me, and I’m getting all moony-faced about some Fed who’s going to disappear from my life the minute this is over! That’s what’s wrong with me! I’m certain it’s that…that…that China Syndrome thing, but it doesn’t make it any better.”
“Stockholm,” he muttered, too shocked to say more.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she snapped.
“The China Syndrome was a movie. I think you meant Stockholm Syndrome, where a victim forms a romantic attachment to her captor.”
Ginny threw up her hands in mock defeat. “Oh! Well! Thank you for correcting me as I make an ass of myself, which only heightens my stupidity!”
Having said all she could say without bursting into tears, Ginny pivoted angrily and stalked back toward the cabin, her head held high.
Sully stood and watched her go. It was either that or shoot himself now and put himself out of his misery, but he wasn’t ready to check out. Not yet. Not when the prettiest woman he’d met in years had just said she was attracted to him.
A slow grin began to spread across his face. Damn. She liked him. She really liked him. Of course, he was going to have to find a way to get past her grudges, and she had a few to get past. But he liked a challenge. Always had. And finding a way to get past Virginia Shapiro’s hangups might just prove to be the biggest challenge of his life.
When he realized she was almost out of sight, he started after her. As he moved back onto the path, a twig snapped in the trees to his right. He paused, staring curiously into the underbrush. When a rabbit suddenly bolted out of the thicket, he relaxed. It didn’t occur to him then that the rabbit was too small to make that kind of sound. His thoughts were on Ginny.
Carney breathed a sigh of relief when the big man moved away. He’d come close to blowing it, and if it hadn’t been for that rabbit, he would have. He’d been too far away to hear most of what was being said, but he’d seen enough to know that they’d been arguing. He’d also seen enough to change his mind about the angle of his retribution. He would hurt the man—he would hurt him bad. But not before he took away his woman. A man was most vulnerable when he was in love.
“You’re gonna be sorry,” he muttered, watching until Sully was out of sight. “Come nightfall, you’re gonna wish you’d never been born.”
8
Although hours had passed since their flare-up in the woods, Ginny was still withdrawn, and Sully was smart enough not to push the issue. Instead, he’d sat her down as if she were a suspect in a crime and grilled her unmercifully over the minutiae of her childhood. While the interrogation had been grueling, in an odd way, it had settled Ginny’s nerves, as if reminding her why they were even together and what needed to be done to make this all go away.
However, she had yet to come up with anything new. The one thing Sully thought strange was Ginny’s lack of memories regarding the special class at Montgomery Academy. Other than that it met once a week and lasted only for an hour, she couldn’t remember anything of what they’d studied or even why she’d been picked. An ordinary child, she had claimed no special talents or skills and was certainly no genius. In truth, she had often been sickly, suffering from periodic asthma attacks, which thankfully, had lessened in severity, ending complete
ly by the time she’d reached her teens.
Finally he’d relented, and Ginny had gone into the kitchen to make them some sandwiches. He’d offered to help but had been turned down flat. Instead of being offended, he’d grinned. So he made her nervous. Good. Better that than be ignored.
“Do you want coffee?” Ginny asked, as she assembled their sandwiches.
“I’d rather have a beer, but I’d settle for a Coke.”
“What you’ll settle for is what I’ve got.”
Her sarcasm raised his ire just enough to make his behavior careless.
“That sounds like a bargain to me,” he drawled. “From where I’m standing, you’ve got what it takes. I’ll just have some of that.”
Ginny froze, her back to the man, a slice of bread in one hand, a knife in the other. She caught herself grinning and then stifled it before he could see. He was giving back as good as he got. She’d always admired that in a man. She turned, her expression bland.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Agent Dean. I might be attracted to you, but I’m not in heat. Go pour yourself a glass of whatever and set your butt down in that chair. Your meal awaits.”
Sully’s grin widened as he strolled past her to get to the cabinets and took out a couple of glasses. Opening the refrigerator, he peered inside.
“Milk, orange juice…hey! You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, as he reached to the back of the shelf and pulled out a couple of wine coolers.
Ginny put the sandwiches on the table and then nudged him aside to get to the plates. Sully purposefully moved slowly, taking juvenile pleasure in the round softness of her backside brushing against his thigh.
“Want one?” he asked, holding up a bottle.
“No, thank you, I’m having milk.”
“Lord,” he muttered, as he set one of the drinks back and took out the jug of milk. “You really like this stuff?”
“I am not in the habit of putting things in my mouth that I do not like. I think I passed that stage at about two or three.”
Sully stared at her lips, picturing himself putting his mouth on hers and wondering what kind of a reaction that would bring—wondering if her kisses would be as fiery as her words.
