by Rachel Lee
“Give me another chance,” Luke said, “to try and turn him around before he winds up, if not in handcuffs, at the least etched permanently in the minds of all the cops around here.”
Amelia hesitated. She didn’t want David in criminal trouble any more than Luke did, but in fact, he already was. At least, he was involved in criminal acts; he just hadn’t gotten caught yet.
But she couldn’t deny he was right, she’d seen too much evidence that everyone remembered Luke McGuire chiefly for getting into trouble. And she’d wondered herself if that wasn’t a factor in David’s problems, either him trying to live up—or down—to his brother’s reputation, or everyone expecting him to.
“At least wait until morning. After some sleep, maybe things will be clearer,” Luke urged.
Whether it was what he said, that it was Luke saying it, or the pleading note in his voice, Amelia gave in.
“All right,” she said. “But I at least want to tell somebody about this gasoline, before somebody comes along and tosses a cigarette out and blows up half the block.”
“The fire department,” Luke suggested. Then, with a lopsided grin, “I never pissed any of them off, that I know of.”
“You’re—” She broke off. She’d been about to say “incorrigible” but had suddenly realized it was very close to true, legally speaking. He was lucky his mother hadn’t tried to have him declared so.
Probably would have taken too much of her time, she thought sourly.
“Let’s get out of here,” Luke said, “and stop breathing these fumes.”
“Yes, please,” she agreed.
She went over to retrieve what was left of her cell phone. She picked it up, then looked at Luke. “In a way, he helped you out. I would have called 911 if he hadn’t hit my wrist and made me drop it.”
“He hit you?” Luke said with a frown. “Hard enough to make you drop it? I thought he’d just scared you.”
“It’s all right.” She held out her right hand, flexing and curling her fingers. “Everything still works.”
He took her hand in his and gently turned it, inspecting the wrist in the yellow light. She knew there was a red mark over the knobby bone below the thumb, but there was no other sign of injury.
“It could still be pretty bruised by tomorrow,” he said. “You should ice it as soon as you can.”
“I’ll do that.”
They headed back up the street toward her car, taking deep breaths of clean, summer-warm air. Amelia stopped at a pay phone to make her call to the fire department. When they at last reached where she’d parked, Luke looked over the low-slung, expensive black coupe.
“Nice,” he said.
“It was my father’s. He bought it just before he died.” She smiled sadly. “I pushed him to it, I’m afraid, trying to nudge him out of his apathy after my mother died. It’s far too extravagant for me, but it seemed too much to start car shopping all over again when I don’t drive that often.”
“So you picked it out for him?”
She shrugged. “I guess you could say that. I tried to pick something racy, that would…energize him or something, I guess. It didn’t work. He only drove it a couple of times.”
“Does it energize you?”
She considered that. “I’ve driven it faster than any other car I’ve ever had. Does that count?”
He grinned. “It counts.”
“Is that what does it for you? Fast cars?”
He gave her a long, steady look that made her suddenly nervous, wondering what he was thinking. But when he answered her, the answer was innocuous enough.
“I’ll admit to a certain addiction to speed,” he said. “But I don’t play with that particular fire that much anymore.”
The words What fire do you play with? rose to her lips, but with the old adage of not asking questions you don’t want the answer to in mind, she held them back.
“Where’s your bike?” she asked instead.
“I walked.” That surprised her; it was a good two miles to the motel. It must have shown, because he shrugged and added, “I like to walk at night. Call it an old habit I never broke.”
She wondered if that meant he wanted to continue to walk. But he had just been in a fight….
Just then he twisted slightly, as if testing for pain, and that decided her.
“Would you like a ride?”
After a bare moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Thanks.” He nodded at the car. “Never even ridden in one of these.”
“Do you want to drive it?” she asked impulsively. Then, embarrassed at herself, she stammered, “No, of course not. It’s probably boring, after your motorcycle. That was silly. I—”
He cut across her nervous chatter. “I’d love to.”
“I… All right.” She handed him the keys.
He took a moment to familiarize himself with the controls, then settled down into the leather seat. “Any quirks?”
“No,” she answered, then smiled. “Except it slides up to eighty real easy.”
He laughed. She liked the sound of it and couldn’t help thinking that he’d probably had little reason to laugh when he’d lived here. And wondered how long it had taken him to learn after he’d left.
“Mind if we take the scenic route?”
It was late, and she should be exhausted, especially after what they’d been through, but instead she found herself oddly exhilarated. “No, go ahead.”
Somewhat to her surprise, he kept it well under eighty. They went rather sedately down the hill to the beach, where the pier stretched out to the ocean and the palm trees seemed to emphasize the balmy summer air. She rolled down her window to smell the salt air.
“I keep meaning to take my lunch and come down here to eat it,” she said, gesturing at the picnic tables set up in the grassy park next to the sand. “But something always seems to come up. Odd to think that people travel days to come here, and I can’t even make it for lunch when I’m a few blocks away.”
He made the turn onto the loop that rimmed the pier area, with its tourist shops and restaurants, then started down the coast road that ran along the long stretch of sandy beach the town was gifted with. “I’ll bet people who’ve lived a long time in Anaheim don’t go to Disneyland much, either,” he said.
“You think you ignore what’s in your own backyard simply because it’s in your own backyard?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I think if it’s always been there, you sort of…overlook it. You don’t go there because you always can. Maybe, to really appreciate something, it has to have been a dream you had to work to get.”
“That’s rather…profound.”
He made a sound that seemed almost embarrassed. “Must be the adrenaline ebb.” He gave her a sideways glance. “You do know that a crash is coming?”
He said it like someone who was very well acquainted with high-adrenaline situations and their aftermath. “So I’ve heard,” she said.
Do you even know what he’s doing now?
Jim’s words came back to her. It seemed foolish, to be riding alone in a car—her car, which she’d turned over with barely a thought—with a man whose reputation in this town hadn’t faded much in eight years of absence, when she knew so little about him.
But what was she supposed to do, just ask? With anybody else it would be a simple, reasonable question. But to the bad boy of Santiago Beach, it could sound like she thought the same thing the rest of the town did, that he was still up to no good.
But surely they’d passed beyond that, hadn’t they? After all—
“Damn.”
She snapped out of her indecisive wanderings. Immediately she saw the cause of his exclamation: flashing lights directly behind them. Startled, she asked, “Where did he come from?”
“Beside the Mexican restaurant.” Luke’s jaw was set as he slowed, then pulled over into the beach parking area.
“You weren’t speeding,” she said. “I wonder why he’s stopping us.”
H
e gave her a look that was ancient in its weariness. “In this town, I’m the only reason they need.”
Amelia had her mouth open to protest that when the shout came from behind them for Luke to turn off the engine. She’d only been pulled over once in her life, but she was fairly certain this wasn’t standard procedure; didn’t the officer simply walk up to the car and ask to see your license?
It wasn’t until Luke turned the ignition off that she realized the officer had called him by name. She twisted around to look, and to her shock saw that it was Jim Stavros.
And he was approaching with his hand on his weapon.
Luke looked at her. She wasn’t sure if he looked angry or ill. Amelia swallowed tightly. Then her breath left her in a rush as she heard words she thought only happened in the big city or in the movies.
“McGuire! Out of the car. Slowly. And keep your hands where I can see them!”
“Welcome to my world,” Luke said.
He got out of the car with his hands up.
Chapter 11
It was like living a flashback.
At the cop’s order, Luke turned and put both his hands on the roof of the car. Next would come the pat-down search, then the handcuffs and finally the interrogation. It was old news, he’d been here before. It was beyond bothering him.
At least, it had been.
But now it was all going to happen in front of Amelia, and that made him queasy. It had been a long time since he’d felt utterly humiliated, but he had a feeling he was about to be reminded what it felt like.
Just as he thought it, Amelia leaned toward the driver’s side and called out. “Jim?”
Great. She knew the guy.
It hit him then that this was the same cop who’d warned her off him the other day in the store. Did the guy work twenty-four hours a day or what?
“Are you all right, Amelia?” the cop asked.
Not daring to look at her, not wanting to see her face, Luke stared down at the roof of the car as she opened her own door and got out. “Of course. What’s wrong?”
“I saw your car. You’re not usually out at this hour, so I took a look. Saw him—” he nodded at Luke “—driving, so I figured I’d better check.”
“In other words,” Luke said dryly, finally looking at her, “he thought I’d stolen your car and kidnapped you.”
Amelia’s eyes widened in shock.
“Still got an attitude on you, don’t you, McGuire?” the cop said.
Amelia was gaping at them both. Luke knew this was probably utterly foreign to her; he doubted she’d ever been stopped by the police in her innocent life.
“This place just brings out the best in me,” Luke said, knowing he sounded bitter but unable to help it. Time to shut up, he told himself, when you start sounding like that.
“We’re keeping an eye on you,” Jim warned. “Some people don’t think it’s coincidence that you arrive back in town and we start having a rash of crimes.”
“Jim, no!” Amelia exclaimed. “You can’t really believe that!”
“Didn’t say I did. Just that some do.”
“Mrs. Clancy, you mean,” Amelia said. “And you know she’s got it in for Luke.”
She knew? Luke wondered. She’d heard suspicions that he might be involved, but she’d never said anything? And apparently never believed them? Something warm and unfamiliar expanded inside him as he looked at her.
Jim, his attention completely on Amelia now, said, “You’re awfully quick to defend him.”
“Maybe because everybody else around here is so darn quick to want to hang him! I think they all need to find something else to fixate on.”
Jim drew back slightly, and Luke saw Amelia suddenly realize she’d nearly shouted her words. Luke, stunned at her fierce defense of him, shook his head in wonder. Clearly embarrassed, she flicked a glance at him, and when she saw his expression her chin came up determinedly.
“Well, well,” Jim said after a moment. “Maybe you’ve got a point there, Amelia. But if you’re wrong, expect to hear a lot of ‘I told you so’s.’” The cop turned to go, then looked back. In that same warning tone, he added, “Assuming you’re still around to hear them.”
Luke didn’t move until the marked police car began to pull away. He kept his eyes fixed on Amelia, who was staring after her friend in uniform in shock.
As well she might, he thought cynically, considering he’d just implied rather strongly that she could be in danger just being with Luke.
“Guess that makes up for your father not being here to warn you off the town scum.”
The words came out sharply, rising out of his own pain, and he said them before he realized they might cause her pain, as well. Her head snapped around, and he saw what he’d feared there in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean that, about your father.”
He shoved away from the car. Instinctively, his hands curled into helpless fists, so he jammed them into his pockets. He stared out toward the water, as if the row upon row of breakers, eerily white in the silver moonlight, held some kind of answer for him.
“That was out of line. I’m just…”
Words failed him. Suddenly exhausted, he let his head loll back on his shoulders and closed his eyes.
“Angry?”
“I don’t have the energy to spare to be angry about this anymore. I was just…embarrassed.”
“At being treated like that?”
His mouth tightened. He didn’t want to say it, but hadn’t she earned it, by leaping to his defense like that? He lifted his head, opened his eyes and let out a compressed breath.
“At being treated like that in front of you,” he admitted tiredly.
He walked slowly toward the water, only vaguely aware when the surface beneath his feet changed from solid to sand. But after a few yards his legs knew, and his body, now depleted from the adrenaline rush of the fight and the encounter with the police, didn’t have the energy to compensate. He fell as much as sat down.
He didn’t hear her move, didn’t hear her footsteps on the sand, but suddenly she was there beside him. And instead of turning away from him, as he’d half expected, her arms came around him in a comforting hug. He was shocked at how fiercely he responded, how desperately he seemed to need this contact with her, need this reassurance. He didn’t know what she was thinking, or if she had come to him simply out of the goodness of her too-kind heart rather than any deeper feeling. He only knew that right now he needed her there, and beyond that, he didn’t question.
It was a very long time before he spoke, and when he did, he surprised himself by letting out something he hadn’t thought about in a very long time.
“When I was about David’s age, I came out here one night. It was a night like this one, warm, quiet. I stood here and wondered if I should just start swimming, and tried to guess how far I would get before I couldn’t swim anymore. Then all my troubles would be over.”
Amelia’s arms tightened around him. “I’m glad you didn’t let her win,” she whispered.
He stared down at her, wondering how she’d known. “That’s the only reason I didn’t do it. I knew she’d be glad to be rid of me.”
He heard her sigh. “I wish she had given you up. Then you’d have known the kind of love I knew, from parents who would have treasured you. Your whole life would have been different.”
He couldn’t even conceive of what that would have been like. “So…you don’t think it’s all heredity? That I was doomed to trouble from the start?”
She leaned back and met his gaze. “I think it’s pretty clear you were driven to most of what you did.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it,” he said. “Maybe she pushed me to it, but once I got started, I’m the one who kept going.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, with a glint of humor in her eye, she said, “Okay. So maybe you did inherit a little of that hell-raising Irish blood.”
A short chuckle escaped him.
She had such a different way of looking at it. “Maybe.”
“Did you ever try to find him?”
“My father? Once. When I was about twelve. I had some crazy idea that if he didn’t know about me, and I found him, he’d want me.”
“You don’t know it was crazy. Maybe he would have.”
“A kid’s fantasy,” he said, as he had before. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “I found out there are a hell of a lot of Patrick McGuires out there.”
“But you never found the right one?”
“Not before my mother got the phone bill,” he said wryly. “I paid for that one for a long time.”
“Maybe you should try again.”
“It doesn’t really matter, not anymore.”
It felt odd, even thinking about it. He’d put it behind him long ago. Talking about it—any of it—was even stranger; he never did, to anyone. Was it being back here, in this place, or just Amelia, who had opened up this torrent of long-unspoken words and memories?
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.
“For what?”
“Everything. Your mother. Your brother. And,” she added, “for leading such a dull life that the sight of my car out after midnight brings the police down on us.”
He had to laugh at the wry, self-mocking tone in her voice. And then she started to laugh, too, and it sounded good. Very good. The smile on her face as she looked up at him made him feel warm inside, and he couldn’t help contrasting it to how he’d felt the last time he’d been here on this beach.
Before he even realized he was going to do it, he was kissing her. And this time there was no hesitation on her part, no little start of surprise. This time she gave him pure eagerness, and the feel of her lips parting for him, her tongue stroking his lips, then slipping into his mouth, set up a roaring in his ears that blotted out even the crash of the surf only yards away.
His hand went to the back of her head, holding her as he matched her eagerness with his own, probing deeply, tasting. Her tongue brushed over his, and a shiver rippled through him. She did it again, lingering this time, and he couldn’t stop the groan that broke from him.
