I retrieve my short cotton robe from the closet and slide it on over the tank top and panties I was sleeping in, then tiptoe downstairs. One of the guys has already made coffee and I pour a cup. An engine starts outside and I see one of the black sedans glide past the window on the way down the drive. A minute later, the front door opens and Wes steps in.
“What’s happened?” I ask over the rim of my mug, trying to contain my anxiety and conceal my shake.
His eyes flick to Ulie’s door. “Everyone else still asleep?”
I nod.
He takes a deep breath and tips his head toward the door. “Let’s walk.”
I move past him to the door and he follows me through.
“We’ll be down on the beach,” he tells Eric on our way past.
Eric nods, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t talk much.
“Is it something with Oliver?” I ask as we start down the trail at the top of the bluff.
He lays a hand on my back, escorting me down the winding path. “We got a report out of Las Vegas late last night. I didn’t want to say anything until we had confirmation.”
My vision goes gray around the edges and I work on placing one foot in front of the other until we make it down the bluff to the soft sand of the beach. Oliver said he’d flow to Vegas as on his own ID before his alter ego, Patrick Barrone, caught a plane from there to Tampa. “What report?”
He takes my hand and turns me to face him. “It’s good news, Lee. Oliver Savoca is dead.”
My legs go out from under me as all the blood leaves my head. Spots flash in my eyes and the sound of the surf fades out, replaced by the pounding of blood through my veins.
Wes catches me on the way down and lowers me into the cool sand. He must mistake my reaction for relief, because he strokes the hair off my face. “There’s no indication he ever uncovered your location. You’re safe here, Lee. You don’t have to leave.”
A tear slips over my lashes and he thumbs it away. When more join the first, he pulls me to his shoulder. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I want to scream that nothing’s okay. Oliver is dead because of me. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself. Instead, I sob into his shoulder and he rocks me in his arms.
“I’m never going to let anything happen to you or your family, Lee,” he says low against my skin. “As long as you’re my responsibility, you’re safe.”
His breath is warm. His lips strong against my forehead. He’s alive, and I’m dying inside. I hold on to him like a drowning man to a buoy.
Chapter 18
Lee
Rob talked Wes and Eric into letting everyone go down to the public beach last night to watch the Fourth of July fireworks. I begged off. It’s been three days since I found out I killed the only man I’ve ever loved. I’ve spent every minute of them trying to figure out how to live with myself.
I’m in the kitchen when Wes knocks at the front door. I heard him drive in a few minutes ago and send Tanner and Jeff on their way.
Rob is the only one up, other than me. He’s on the sofa, coffee mug in one hand and TV remote in the other. I know he still blames me for all of this. I talked him out of killing Oliver, then Oliver escaped on my watch.
I give Rob the eye that he should get the door.
“It’s open,” he yells without moving.
I cut him a glare as Wes strides in.
“Good news,” he says, and my stomach cramps remembering the last time I heard him use those words. “DOJ’s given us the go-ahead to lift your guard detail.” He comes to where I’m standing and slides the front section of yesterday’s Chicago Tribune onto the counter in front of me. “In case you’re interested.”
Spots flash in my eyes as I stare at the front-page article and I’m suddenly lightheaded. There’s a picture of what looks like a construction site with yellow police tape strung between two cement columns. Under the tape is a black blanket covering something on the ground. Bile rises in my throat and I close my eyes until it settles. When I open them, Wes is studying me.
“You don’t have to read it,” he says, “if it’s too upsetting.”
I shake my head, because he’s wrong. I have to know what I did to Oliver.
According to the article, Oliver’s partially burned body was discovered at a construction site outside Las Vegas. They speculate, based on the brutal nature of his murder, it was some sort of mafia retaliation.
I hand the paper back to Wes before I’ve read halfway through. Turns out I don’t have the stomach to know what I did to him after all.
Wes moves across to Rob and hands the paper over the back of the sofa. Rob spreads it out in front of him with a crisp snap and starts to read. “They burned him. Bastard got what he deserved.”
“Jesus, Rob! Really?” I brace my hands on either side of the sink before my legs give out. I’m going to throw up.
Rob shrugs and goes back to reading.
Wes splits a glance between us. “There were still fingerprints and his dental records. There’s no question it’s him.”
Rob gives me a knowing nod from the sofa when he finishes reading, but he knows nothing. There’s no one I can talk to. The love of my life is dead and I can’t ever tell a living soul I loved him.
“The guys and I won’t be here on a regular basis anymore, but you know I’m still available,” Wes says as he moves to the door. “If there’s anything any of you need, don’t hesitate to call.”
He’s looking directly at me as he says it, and when I glance at Rob, he’s scowling at me. But better he thinks there might be something between me and Wes than me and Oliver. Falling for a Fed would be a hard pill for my big brother to swallow, but falling for a Savoca would be blasphemy. Unforgivable.
“Thanks, Wes.” I walk with him outside and find the porch empty. “No Eric?” I ask, looking around.
He shakes his head. “Detail’s been pulled. I just came by because I wanted to tell you in person.” He grasps my hand as we reach his car. “And I needed to see for myself that you’re okay.”
I don’t pull out of his grasp. His hand is strong and I draw energy from his touch. “Thanks, Wes. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be by to check on you later this week. And you know you can come up to Tampa anytime … for lunch or …” He takes a deep breath and holds it as he glances toward the house. He must not find Rob’s face in the window, because he leans in and presses his mouth to my forehead. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He releases me and I feel suddenly cold in the muggy July swelter.
“Thanks, Wes,” I say. “For everything.”
He nods and climbs in his car. I watch him go, wondering if my heart will always feel like a vacuum, or if someday someone like Wes will be able to fill the hole Oliver left there.
I pass Rob on my way back in. “I’ll be at Adri’s,” he says. “Sherm is up. Make sure he walks the dogs.”
“That didn’t take long,” I mutter.
It’s only when his feet stall on the steps down to the driveway and he looks over his shoulder at me that I realize how bitter that sounded.
“Go,” I say, flicking my hand at his car. “She misses you.”
He looks at me a second longer, then nods and climbs in his car.
Sherm is tripping over the dogs on his way downstairs when I step inside.
“Cereal or eggs?” I ask.
“Cereal,” he answers, tugging open the pantry door.
It’s a relief. I usually love cooking breakfast for him, but I don’t seem to love anything anymore.
“Don’t forget to feed the dogs,” I say, heading up the stairs. “And walk them when you’re done.”
I close the door of my room and curl into a ball on the bed. I’ve washed my sheets several times since Oliver left, but his scent has permeated into my pillow. I pull back the pillowcase and bury my face in it. It’s the only thing I feel like doing anymore. All I want is to sleep, which I do, and cry, which I do
n’t.
Oliver haunts me in my dreams. They never end the way we did. Usually it’s some form of happily ever after. But that’s why we dream: to grasp the things that never could have been in real life. I wake from those dreams with an aching heart, but since my meltdown on the beach with Wes, I haven’t let myself cry. Those are all the tears I’m allowed, because crying feels like self-pity and I don’t deserve anyone’s pity. Especially my own.
***
The days pass this way—I have no idea how many—and I survive from one to the next. Most of the time, I don’t even know why I bother.
I’d always thought losing Mama is what drained Papa of his humanity. For the first time it’s occurring to me it might not have been that at all, but the body count that followed in the aftermath. He’s responsible for dozens of lives. Maybe hundreds. I saw the weight of it take its toll on Rob after he started working with Papa and wreaking his own havoc. It crushed him, consuming the human part of him.
I’m only responsible for one life—Oliver’s—and it’s robbed me of my humanity.
How can you know that you’ve killed another person and stay human?
***
As promised, Wes has been by a couple times a week. This is maybe his third or fourth visit. I’ve lost track.
He tucks a strand of tangled hair behind my ear as we sit together in the love seat on the porch, staring out over the bluff at the late-afternoon storm rolling in with the waves. Rob left for Spencer’s earlier, and Grant is back to his usual, rarely home, so it’s only my Beetle and Wes’s silver Dodge Challenger parked in the drive in front of us.
“Have you been out of the house at all this week?” he asks.
I haven’t showered this morning and haven’t bothered with makeup for a few weeks, so I’m sure he’s reassessing his opinion of me.
“I went to Polly’s on Tuesday.”
He stands and brushes off his slacks. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”
I look myself over with disdain, still in yesterday’s tank top and shorts. I haven’t even changed my underwear. “I’m a mess.”
“Then fix yourself up.”
I just sit here, staring at him.
“Or don’t,” he adds, holding his hand out. “Either way, you’re coming out with me.”
I take his hand and let him tow me out of the love seat. “I need to at least shower and change.”
“I’ll wait,” he says, nudging me through the front door.
Ulie is in the kitchen, pulling things from the pantry, and Sherm is glued to the TV. “I think I might be going out for dinner.”
“Well, hell,” she says. She looks at Sherm then back at me. “Maybe we’ll just order pizza.”
“I don’t have to go,” I say, hoping she’ll give me a reason to say no to Wes.
Her eyes flick to the window in the door and when I follow them I see Wes is leaning against the porch rail, talking on the phone. “I think it will be good for you to get out.” She steps around the island and her black-coffee eyes search my face. She pulls me to her with a gentle hand on my arm and leans close to my ear, lowering her voice so Sherm won’t hear. “You and Oliver were friends at Kellogg, weren’t you?”
She was in New York the whole time I was with Oliver in Chicago. Had she been home, I have no doubt she would have known. With just the boys around, my secret was safe. Rob knew we were in school together, but he rightly assumed I hated Oliver because he was a Savoca. No need to question it. It was in our DNA. No one ever asked me about him.
“Yeah.”
“I know you blame yourself for what happened, Lee, but it wasn’t your fault. He got your gun. You couldn’t have done anything. And if he’d stayed, it might have been Rob who killed him and that would have been worse.”
“I know,” I say, “but that doesn’t change that he was here. It doesn’t change that he’s dead now.”
Maybe it’s the undercurrent of anguish in my tone, or maybe it’s that she’s always been able to read me better than anyone else, but her expression changes as I speak. Understanding dawns in her eyes.
“How long?” is all she says, but I know exactly what she’s asking.
“A year,” I answer, my voice hitching.
She pulls me into a hug. “God, Lee. I’m so sorry.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat and pull away. “Wes is waiting. I’m going to shower.” I turn for the stairs without looking back.
Wes drives us off-island and we find a hole-in-the-wall in Loveland. It’s quiet and dimly lit. We take the booth in the back corner and instead of sliding in across from me, Wes sits on the same side as I do.
His shoulder presses against mine and the contact makes me feel almost human. I don’t deny myself the feeling, just for a moment. Just to remember what it’s like.
He hands me a menu and I think about my baby-monkey theory as I look it over. The whole time, it was Oliver’s touch I craved, just like the test monkey craved its mother. Anything else was just a substitute.
But he’s gone and it’s not my right to mourn him.
“What’ll it be?” an older woman in an ill-fitting waitress’s uniform says from next to our table.
“Ladies first,” Wes says, pressing his shoulder more firmly against mine.
I haven’t read a word on the menu, but I don’t want to send her away and prolong this. “The Cobb salad,” I say, because it’s the first thing my eyes land on.
“I’ll have the cheeseburger, medium rare,” Wes says.
“That comes with fries. You can add coleslaw or a side salad for two ninety-nine,” the waitress volunteers.
“Let’s do that,” he says, folding his menu and handing it to her.
“Which one?” she asks, her penned-on eyebrows raised in a question.
“Both.”
“Drinks?” she asks, jotting in her pad.
Wes looks at me.
“Diet Coke,” I answer.
As Wes goes over the beer menu with her, I zone out … until his hand slips onto my thigh and squeezes. I look up to see the waitress heading toward the kitchen to put in our orders.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
He removes his hand from my leg and leans back in the booth. “I know this whole thing scared you pretty good, Lee, but I think, if anything, it should make you feel safer. You saw the machine at work. When you testified against your father, we told you we’d keep you safe. We just showed you how. Nothing’s going to get past us.” His arm loops behind me and his hand closes over my shoulder, strong, firm, and sure. “I will never let anything happen to you.”
I give in to the baby monkey inside me and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He tips his face into my hair and his warmth begins to crack the ice filling my veins.
We sit like this in silence until our food arrives. “I’m serious, Lee,” Wes says before he lets me go to eat. “Your family is safe. You are safe.”
Bitterness rises up inside me like the tide and I stab at a cherry tomato with my bent fork, spewing seeds and juice in a stream onto the paper placemat. “And my eleven-year-old brother is going to grow up knowing only fear.”
He finds my gaze, locking me in his. “Kids bounce. I’ve seen it in this job. Sherm is going to be fine.”
He’s so full of caring and compassion, but hard and tough too. It’s everything I need right now, so I lean tighter against him, drawing on his strength as we eat.
It’s twilight when we get back to Port St. Mary. The town has rolled up the sidewalks for the evening.
Wes pulls out into the same wide spot in the road where I retrieved Oliver’s car all those weeks ago. “I don’t know what else to say to you, Lee. I see how this whole thing has torn you up, but I don’t know what to do to fix it.”
“I’m not sure it can be fixed,” I say, staring blindly out the windshield.
“It kills me to see you like this,” he says, his fingertips brushing under my chin a
nd coaxing my gaze toward him. “You are one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, but all your fight is gone. All your strength.”
“It’s just … a lot of things.”
Keeping one hand under my chin, he reaches for my shoulder with the other. When I don’t pull out of his grasp, he tips my chin up and leans toward me.
I don’t draw away from his kiss because it hurts my heart to kiss another man and remember how Oliver’s kiss moved the earth under my feet.
And I deserve to hurt.
Chapter 19
Lee
I’m drunk.
It started out as a glass of wine with lunch at the Sunfish Café near Wes’s office. Then I coaxed him into playing hooky and getting a few beers at Sentry’s Pub. Then drinks and dinner at 400 Beach Seafood and Tap House. With every stop we’ve gotten farther from Wes’s office and closer to his apartment.
It’s not Wes’s fault that I can’t walk. He tried to suggest I slow down. I answered by guzzling the rest of my third Kamikaze.
That was when I nearly fell off my chair and he loaded me in his car.
We’re still in the parking lot, and even though Wes hasn’t started his car, it feels like we’re on a roller coaster. I can’t get my bearings.
“You can’t drive like this,” he says. “I’ll take you home and bring your car down tomorrow.”
I shake my head, making my head spin and any words I wanted to say blur in my brain.
“What does that mean, Lee?” he asks, leaning back in his seat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take me home with you.” There’s a slur to my voice and it somehow strikes me as the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. I burst into uncontrolled laughter.
He just stares at me for a long time before starting the car.
When the laughing makes me feel like I’m going to throw up, I’m able to contain it. I close my eyes and lean my head against the window as he drives. It’s just a few minutes later that we’re pulling up to his building.
I don’t remember exactly how we get to his apartment. There’s a vague recollection of him carrying me bride-style from the elevator to his bedroom, but I can’t be sure. I only know I wake up in his bed in the dark. A quick scan with my hands ensures me I’m still in my dress, but my shoes are long gone. I’m pretty sure they never made it out of the restaurant. The bed tilts and tosses like a magic carpet and I lift my head to see how Wes is doing that. But I’m alone.
Over the Line: On the Run Novel Page 18
