by Toni Blake
He couldn't believe what he'd done to Stephanie last night outside her door. He'd simply wanted her with a power he couldn't push down. And when she'd kissed him back, there'd been no stopping—for either of them.
Throughout the whole encounter he'd never once thought ahead to how she'd feel afterward. Real nice, Broussard. Dump the girl, then force yourself on her. He knew it had been mutual, but when he'd seen the abject hurt in her eyes afterward, he'd felt like the biggest scum alive.
The only thing to soften the emotion was the fact that it wasn't exactly a new one. In fact, it was real familiar. For a guy who'd once liked to think of himself as someone who took care of people, he sure managed to hurt the women in his life. In one way or another. At least Stephanie's still alive.
Damn, the power of that thought hit him hard, nearly had him reeling, making him glad he was leaning on the bar. Just the notion of something happening to Stephanie...
"Whiskey sour."
Jake looked up to find none other than Robert Nicholson standing across the bar, an experienced-looking woman he didn't know at the guy's side. "And a glass of your best Merlot for Dominique."
Jake's senses went on the alert as he poured the lady's wine and mixed Nicholson's drink. He scanned the room for Tina, but didn't find her. Setting both glasses atop cocktail napkins, he took Nicholson's money, saying low, "I need to speak to you privately."
Nicholson looked flustered at the request, clearly caught off guard, then told Dominique to go mingle and that he'd join her in a minute. Once she was gone, he said, "What is it?"
"I'm lookin' for a girl named Tina. You might know her as Tiana. Pretty blonde, last seen with you."
The man relaxed a little, looking more comfortable, and slightly smug. "What do you want with Tiana?"
"She's got a sister who's real worried about her 'cause she's been outta touch. Just tryin' to hook 'em up, that's all, and I heard you'd be able to help."
Nicholson looked around to make sure nobody was listening before he replied. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you—I gave Tiana a place to stay for a while. But she's not with me anymore. She left this morning."
Damn it, what timing. "Any idea where she went?"
Nicholson gave his head a casual shake. "Could be she's turning tricks in the CBD where I found her. And she's a clingy little thing, so if I were a betting man, I'd say she's likely with her friend who introduced us. What was her name?" He peered upward, thinking. "Raven. If I had to guess, I'd say that wherever Raven is, Tiana is."
Jake's stomach somersaulted. If he was lucky, Tina hadn't yet made it out of the CBD looking for Raven. But if she'd already tracked Raven to the projects—merde.
"Thanks, man," he said to Nicholson, even though the guy was a Grade A ass. And he might also be a big player in the drug scene, but Jake would have to explore that later.
Striding to the end of the bar, he called downstairs to Danny's office, informing him he had an emergency and had to leave. Next, he called LaRue House.
"Hello?" God, just her voice was enough to bury him. He felt it in his stomach.
"Stephanie, get in your car and pick me up outside Sophia's. I've got a lead on Tina and we need to look for her—now."
"God—okay," she said, and they both hung up. He didn't want to scare her, but on the other hand, he had a bad feeling about this.
Tina peered out the window as the cab sped up Canal Street toward an address she'd gotten from a girl at the Crescent. "But you don't want to go up there, girlfriend. Raven's all strung out, and that's a badass neighborhood."
Yet Tina didn't care. If Raven was in trouble, she had to find her—then they could both deal with their troubles together. As soon as she located her, they'd grab another taxi and get a cheap hotel room for the night with the leftover money in her purse. Tomorrow, they could both start fresh.
God, this day hadn't turned out like she'd expected. It was supposed to be about shopping and spa-ing and then dinner and lovemaking with Robert. Instead, it had been about endings, and new—even if rocky—beginnings.
Her chest swelled with pride when she remembered her visit to Les Couleurs. Melissa had struck her as a friendly, likable woman, and Tina had actually found herself feeling sorry for her .. . even as she gently told her the truth. "Did you know Robert sleeps with hookers? And that he has an apartment in the Garden District where he puts them up? Did you know he promises he's going to leave you?"
Melissa had seemed wholly wounded, but not as surprised as Tina might have expected. She must have suspected there were big secrets between them.
"I'm not telling you this to hurt you. I'm only telling you because I thought you should know." And because I want Robert's perfect little world to come crashing down around him just like mine did today.
Melissa had thanked her, but then asked her to leave— which was understandable—so she'd headed to the shabby apartment she'd shared with Raven and two other girls for a few weeks. The place was quiet, though, no one home. From there, she'd headed to the Riverwalk mall, where she killed time and tried to think constructively about how to make a change in her life. Only when she'd headed to the Crescent a little while ago had she heard the disheartening news about her friend.
"Sure you want out here?" the cabdriver asked, pulling to the curb. He was young, kind of cute, and seemed sincerely concerned. She half-considered telling the guy her sad tale, watching for some glimmer of absolution or romance in his eyes, trying to make the miracle of a normal life materialize out of nothing in a New Orleans taxi-cab. Life didn't have to be fabulous or glamorous—just normal.
But even she knew the idea was insane, so she simply smiled and said, "Yeah, I need to find a friend here," then paid him and got out.
As the cab slowly drove away, she felt inexorably alone. But you're going to be a stronger person, starting right now. No more Tiana. She'd just be Tina from this point forward. And she'd help Raven, and together, they'd build a better life.
She walked briskly, wishing there were more streetlights as she peered behind Dumpsters and into alleyways looking for her girlfriend. Where are you, Raven? Please be here. She willed Raven to appear from somewhere, so they could get in another cab or a passing bus and get the hell out of this creepy place.
"You too fine to be a white girl."
She yanked her gaze from where she'd been searching the shadows and found three young black guys coming toward her. Before her days as an escort, she would have been scared, but she told herself she knew how to handle this. Don't act afraid—act tough, like you belong here. "You guys know a girl named Raven?"
One of them laughed. "Yeah, we know Raven. We know her real good." This elicited a chuckle from the rest.
"I'm a friend of hers. Do you know where she is?"
The first guy who'd spoken, wearing a dingy-looking T-shirt, baggy jeans, and a red bandanna over his head, came closer. He smiled at her as if she were prey, something he'd just caught. "Ain't gonna find no Raven 'round here no more. Done took off, went to some pansy-ass homeless shelter or somethin'."
She held her ground, even though he stood too close to her. "Do you know where?"
One of them shrugged, and the bandanna dude shook his head. "Don't care, neither. 'Specially now that you're here." He lifted his hand, stroking his fingertips down her cheek.
"Afraid I have to go," she said. "I have to find Raven. It's an emergency." She looked around, up and down the street—but damn it, not a cab or a bus to be seen. Nothing but one beat-up old car cruising past.
Bandanna leered at her with a grin. "Only emergency I know about's in my pants." His friends laughed. "You gonna take care of it for me."
Act like he doesn't repulse you, make a bargain with him, anything. She forced herself to lift her hand to his cheek. "Tell you what. As soon as I find Raven, I'll come back and we can have some fun."
But his smile faded. "Ain't gonna be no leavin' or lookin' for no Raven. You can make it easy on yourself or you can make it har
d—don't make no difference to me. How's it gonna be? You givin' it up, or am I takin' it?"
Chapter 25
Oh God, Jake, that's her! That's her!" Stephanie felt ill as she watched Tina struggle against the guys attempting to drag her out of the light. "You have to get to her," she sobbed. "You have to do something!"
She'd let Jake drive, thank God, because she'd have wrecked the car by now. He squealed to the curb and lowered the window, yelling, "Police officer! Step away from the lady!"
The action on the sidewalk froze and Stephanie nearly fainted when Jake jumped out of the car and pulled a gun from his waistband. "Move away from her!" he commanded. "Now! Against the fence, hands on your head."
Finally, the young men let loose of her and Stephanie put down her own window and maneuvered herself up and halfway out of it. "Tina, it's me, Steph! Come get in the car!"
Two of Tina's attackers did as Jake said; the other fled. A second later, when the first two saw that Jake wasn't going to shoot or give pursuit, they sprinted off as well. It hardly mattered. All Stephanie could see was her baby sister running toward her.
She flung her door open and met her, arms outstretched, as Tina rounded the fender. As her sister came into her arms, it was as if Tina were a Utile girl again, running to Stephanie after a bicycle crash or a bee sting, or later, after a failed cheerleading tryout or a bad breakup. Stephanie held on to her as tight as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks into Tina's hair. She heard Tina crying, too.
"My God," Stephanie murmured. "We finally found you."
"How... ?" Tina asked, sniffling against her shoulder. "And why? I mean ..."
"Ladies, I hate to break this up, but you both need to get in the car so we can get outta here."
Stephanie pulled back slightly, making eye contact with Jake over the hood. She loved him and she felt that love wanting to spill from her more now than ever before because he'd saved her sister. Thank you, she mouthed— not because it couldn't be said aloud, but because her heart was beating so fast and his eyes were so beautiful and dark that she couldn't get the words out.
He acknowledged it with a light nod, then said, more softly, "We gotta go. This isn't a good place to be."
On the ride back to Stephanie's place, Jake mostly kept his eyes on the road and listened as the two sisters talked and cried and blubbered to one another about how Stephanie had come to New Orleans to find Tina, and it was easy to see how much her concern moved the younger girl.
So, mission complete. Stephanie would go home now. That was what he'd wanted and now it was going to happen.
And that was a good thing.
Never mind that it was ripping his guts out just to think about it. To know she'd no longer be a few short blocks away from him, to know he couldn't see her or talk to her at a moment's notice if he wanted.
But he swallowed back those emotions, because that's what he did, what he was about. And until Stephanie had come along, he'd gotten pretty damn good at it. Good at going through the motions and nothing more.
He could do that again. Would do that again. He had no other choice.
He pulled around behind the LaRue to the small lot where the guests parked, and as they all got out, he dropped the keys into Stephanie's hand.
She looked up at him, slightly surprised. "Oh—we probably should have dropped you at your place on the way."
Swell, she'd forgotten he was even there. Understandable, though, under the circumstances, so he tried not to let it bother him. He shook his head, spoke quietly. "No, I can walk. I feel better seein' you two get back here safe."
"Speaking of safe," she asked, "uh, where did the gun come from?"
He tried for a smile. "Don't worry, beb. Haven't been packin' heat the whole time I've known you. But we keep a gun in the safe behind the bar at Sophia's—just in case. I grabbed it on the way out."
Just then, Tina ingratiated herself between them. She was a beautiful girl, slightly taller than Stephanie, longer hair, thinner build, every guy's dream, so it was no wonder Nicholson had taken up with her. But already, on the quick ride from the projects, Jake had been able to see the little girl in her, and knew Stephanie had been right all along in worrying. He felt glad he'd done a little something to bring her home.
"Before you go, I want to thank you." She peered up at him with eyes nearly as blue as Stephanie's, but clearly younger and more immature. "Thank you so, so much for helping Steph find me. And for all you did back there."
He gave his head a short shake, playing off the praise. He hadn't done it for praise. He'd done it... for Stephanie. "Glad I could help."
The girl gazed up at him like he was some kind of hero, and he looked helplessly back, thinking: One more female putting me on a pedestal, thinking I'm worthy, thinking I can save people. But he didn't/<?e/ very worthy, even less so the last few days, after breaking Stephanie's heart.
"If you hadn't come along back there ..."
Her breath started to hitch as she recalled what she'd just endured, so he rushed a reply. "It was a matter of good timin'. God watchin' over us, I guess." His own words caught him off guard—it had been a long time since he'd given God credit for anything.
When they reached Stephanie's door, Tina rose onto her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He looked down to find her eyes glassy with fresh tears. "Thank you again," she whispered. "And I'm sorry you got dragged into somebody else's problems."
It's my lot in life, he thought, holding in a cynical chuckle as he gently squeezed her hand. "Your sister's the one who really deserves your thanks. She wasn't gonna let anything stand in the way of findin' you. Just let Stephanie help you and things'll work out like they should."
She mustered a small smile through her tears and seemed ready to make a getaway so she wouldn't cry in front of him. "I'll say good night now," she said, pushing her way into the room.
Which left him with Stephanie.
Her eyes looked a little glassy, too, when he peered down into them.
/ hate myself for hurting you, but I don't seem to have any other answers. "Well, beb," he said instead, past the small lump in his throat, "looks like we did what we set out to do."
She nodded, still gazing up at him.
"So I guess you'll be headin' back up to Chicago now."
Again, a nod. She looked so emotional it was killing him.
"Well, take care of yourself, and be careful. You'll do that for me, no?"
Her lips trembled when she said, "Wait here."
She disappeared behind the door of her room and returned a few seconds later cradling a mound of yarn in her arm, which—when she stretched it out—formed a scarf. "I finally finished it," she told him.
"This is what you were makin'," he said, remembering, " 'cause Tina showed you how." She'd told him more than once of her attempt to pick up the skill.
She gave another nod. "And I know it's ugly, and it doesn't even get cold here, but"—she rolled her eyes and thrust it at him—"here it is. A thank-you present."
He took the soft swath of loosely interwoven yarn into his hand. "I thought you were makin' it to show Tina."
"I was." She stared into his chest instead of his eyes, seeming uncomfortable, embarrassed. "But I can make another one. This one I want to give to you, even if it's a stupid gift."
"It's not a stupid gift."
She raised her eyes to his, swallowing nervously. "I thought a lot about you while I was working on it, so it just seems fitting that it should be yours."
"Thank you," he whispered.
She blinked, her features pinching slightly, looking closer to tears, until finally she threw her arms around him, pressing to him tight. "No, thank you," she said softly into his chest, and he felt the warmth of her breath through his T-shirt as his arms closed firm around her. He took in the scent of her hair, the feel of her curves, one last time. "Thank you for helping me find my sister, and thank you for... helping me find a part of me, too." She pulled back, parting their bodies, and p
eered up at him. "Like it or not, I love you, and I'll always remember you for that." She looked at the scarf again. "Maybe you'll put this in a closet or a drawer and every now and then you'll see it and remember me."
He gazed down into her lovely blue eyes, already missing her embrace. "Despite what you might think, chère, I won't ever forget you. That's a promise."
She merely looked up at him, no response. He couldn't blame her. What a promise he'd just made. A promise of... nothing. She'd wanted so much more from him and there was a big part of him that wanted to give it to her— and still he was going to walk away.
'Take care of yourself, Stephanie Grant," he said, starting to take backward steps.
"You too," she whispered.
He shut his eyes to block the threat of tears, but opened them to take one last look. She was wearing the same outfit she'd worn to the bayou house that first night they'd made love. He knew all the beauty that hid underneath it; he knew all the fire that burned in her heart. There was more he should say to her—words he hated, like "need" and "love." But he wasn't willing to back them up—he was only willing to run away. So that's what he did, turned and walked briskly from LaRue House, and as he forced one foot in front of the other, he felt his own heart breaking in two—again.
Although he heard a ruckus as he approached his building, he didn't really pay attention. He lived in a seamier area of the Quarter, after all, and it was late—and God knew he had a lot on his mind.
It was only as a low sob came from the street that he peeked around the cars parked along the curb and spied Shondra kneeling on the pavement. Scruff was stretched out in front of her.
"Aw, Jesus," he muttered, breaking into a run. He dropped down next to her on his knees. "What the hell happened?"
She looked up at him, her face wet with tears, lips trembling. "Car."
The little guy's new leash remained attached to his new collar—Jake could only guess he'd gotten loose from her somehow.
