by Jayne Rylon
“No. That’s up to you. But I couldn’t mislead her either. I told her I was involved with someone else, then I walked out on her.” The memory of betrayal drowning her eyes cut him all over again. “Hit me if it helps. I kind of wish you would.”
“Ah, shit, Ty.” Mason damn near suffocated him in a bear hug. “That sucks.”
“Mason, I didn’t even use a condom. I didn’t want anything between us. I’ve never done that with a woman before.” He didn’t mention the times he and Mason fooled around.
“Well, we know she’s on the pill. Remember when Rob got all bent out of shape, freaking out over how bad her cramps were until she got on it?” They shared a crooked smile over the memory of their friend’s deliberation on the best way to tackle the awkward conversation with his sister.
He seemed like he was about to continue but didn’t. “Spit it out, Mason. What?”
“I didn’t think you’d come back. I’m a selfish bastard but I thought I’d lost you. Why did you give her up instead of me?”
Tyler squirmed under the uncomfortable pressure of their heart-to-heart. It didn’t bother him to spill his guts, but he knew it could make Mason flee their emotional intimacy. Then again, it could have been Mason caught in the line of fire just as easily as Rob. He refused to regret withholding his emotions if the unthinkable happened. Again. “We’ve been through so much together. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your friendship with Lacey? She means the world to you. To me, too. You know that.”
“Then why can’t we tell her, Mason? You heard her yesterday, she wants us both. Please…”
“No. I won’t make her the center of our freak show. She was a virgin for Christ’s sake! How would she cope with all the things I want to do to her? I’m no gentle lover. And no matter how I wish it were otherwise, I can’t deny what I need. She can’t handle me.”
One part of Tyler agreed. Lacey wasn’t ready for the rough passion they both craved. But another fraction screamed they were making the biggest mistake of their lives. He’d claimed her yesterday. In the heat of her passion, some of his preconceptions had been seared away. More lay beneath the surface of Lacey’s calm exterior than she let on.
Confusion, grief, longing and resignation swirled in his mind. He replayed their exchange this morning and her words reverberated in his mind.
“I’ve been hearing the details of your sordid threesomes for years.”
What would she think if she found out those were the least of their indiscretions?
“You’re right, Mason. I know you are. I just wish…”
“I know, Ty. I wish, too.” He sighed then asked, “Tell me, what was it like?”
4
Lacey paced a circuit that led from the living room through the dining room, which they’d converted to an office, to the kitchen then back again while daytime TV droned in the background. Three days of lockup had her poised on the verge of insanity. Compared to the hullabaloo of organizing Rob’s service and wake, the aftermath seemed eerily quiet when not occupied by endless tears.
Distant friends and acquaintances had obtained their closure then gone back to the grind but, for her, the reality of the void in her life had just begun to sink in. Every once in a while she heard something—a car driving by, people chatting as they walked their dog or the sound of the mailman on the front porch—that made her think Rob was about to bound up the stairs and through the door before she realized all over again that he’d never come home.
It wouldn’t be so damn obvious if she could pick up her regular schedule at the hospital but state laws mandated she remain out of action for a minimum of seven to ten days. The way her thoughts flitted from despair to vengeance and everything in between, she understood she would only be a hazard to patients in the ER—people who could still be saved.
To make matters worse, the hairs on the back of her neck wouldn’t let her forget that either Tyler, Mason, or both, sat across the street in an unmarked car staring at the house. She’d tried to walk over and shoot the breeze with them a few times but they always drove off when they saw her coming. Chickenshit Ty hadn’t even had the decency to check up on her after he’d run out on their morning after.
Their constant quasi-presence rubbed her face in all she’d lost by indulging her fantasy during a moment of weakness. Loneliness piled onto the grief threatening to paralyze her. What were they watching for if they wanted to avoid her so badly? The constant vigilance made her nervous.
The phone rang, startling her from her morose thoughts. The damn thing had been buzzing non-stop. She figured she might as well make some lucky reporter’s day and answer their call. Rob had been regarded as an up-and-comer, a potential candidate who might even make it to chief one day. She’d responded to a few of the inquiries interspersed between the condolences and sympathies but, for the most part, she hadn’t felt like rehashing her misery for a lousy quote in the daily paper.
Most of the journalists had graciously accepted her “no comment” but one persistent newshound kept insisting Lacey return her calls. She’d deleted every one of the pushy voicemails without hesitation. This time she almost hoped the bitch would be on the other end of the line so she could vent some of her frustration. Mentally, she cracked her knuckles preparing to rip the caller a new asshole.
“Hello?” Instead of the high-pitched, scratchy female voice she expected, only static buzzed across the crappy connection. “Hello?” she asked once more before shrugging and hanging up.
Ring.
“Hello?”
Again, no answer though she thought she heard a soft whimper. After several more seconds of silence, she decided she’d fabricated the sound while straining to hear anything on the other end of the line.
She smashed the receiver into the cradle with a thump. Great, now she had some prankster giving her shit, too. She marched into the living room then collapsed onto the couch. Just glancing at the pitiful excuse for a talk show playing on Rob’s TV brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t stand the solitude a moment longer.
Her gaze flicked to the gap in the curtains where she spotted another nondescript vehicle parked inconspicuously on the shoulder of the neighborhood road. The glint of tawny hair she caught beaming in the shaft of sunlight illuminating the driver-side window made up her mind.
Lacey returned to the kitchen and dug a stainless steel thermos out of the cupboard. A dash of creamer, two spoonfuls of sugar and a semi-stale pastry—leftover from the wake—completed her package. She bundled the treats and a stash of napkins into a plastic grocery bag before creeping out the kitchen exit, like a thief, into her own backyard.
She slipped through the gate in the fence between her house and her neighbor Rhonda’s then made her way across various lawns by dodging Mr. Roper’s clothesline and circling around the Smith kids’ gargantuan neon plastic playset until she reached the patch of evergreens blanketing the community park. Under their cover she slipped across the street then backtracked, keeping the brush on the undeveloped berm between her and the average tan sedan.
As she drew closer, she paused to take in Mason’s serious expression which reflected his focus on his observation of her home. Chills ran the length of her arm. What was he looking for? Determined to have answers, she strode the last handful of paces to the car and yanked the door handle. Lacey practically dove into the passenger seat, guaranteeing he couldn’t flee yet again.
The motion put her an inch from the business end of Mason’s drawn Sig P226.
She blinked.
“Son of a bitch! Lacey!” He re-holstered the gun with cool efficiency. “Are you trying to get shot? Never sneak up on me like that again!”
“S-sorry.” She ducked her head between her knees and took a couple of cleansing breaths to chase away the spots cluttering her vision.
“Shit!” Mason’s broad hand pushed her hair aside to massage the nape of her neck, rubbing the tension away. “Are you okay?”
When her heartbeat had slowed to a mere gallop she rose and said, “Peachy. Brought you a snack.” She handed over the now-slightly-squished cruller.
Their hands brushed when he accepted the goodies she shoved at him. She watched his stony features as he set the thermos in the cup holder but didn’t move to drink from it. Judging by the pulsing muscle in his jaw, she’d swear he was grinding his teeth.
She took a moment to soak in his stoic grimace. Blunt cheekbones, a prominent forehead and a narrow nose should not have added up to the male perfection she saw, yet somehow, it did. She longed for him to say something, anything, to reassure her that she hadn’t obliterated every last spark of their friendship.
“Go ahead, have some. You must be freezing out here. It’s barely forty degrees and you haven’t turned on the car in hours.” She twisted the cap off then poured a healthy steaming slug of his favorite mocha blend.
Still nothing.
A gulp blocked her throat for a moment but, when it cleared, she unleashed her fear in a direct question.
“Mason, are you going to avoid me forever because I slept with Ty?” Lacey clamped her front teeth on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. When he didn’t answer for a few seconds, then ten, she abandoned hope. Determination drained from her, slumping her shoulders.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered.
She’d already turned to leave when his restraining hand landed on her thigh, making her jump.
“I’m going to avoid you because I wish it had been me instead.” The gruff admission made her heart skip a beat but, before she could respond, he continued, “And because I’m not sure I could walk away a second time when your eyes beg me to stay, even though it’s still the right thing to do.”
“The right thing for whom? And don’t you dare say for me, Mason Clark! I care for both of you and nothing you say will convince me that keeping us apart is the way to go. Unless you know about the secret that isn’t Tyler’s to share…”
The furrows on his brow coupled with his ominous frown and the inability to meet her stare convinced her of his guilt. “Tell me. Nothing you say could change the way I feel.”
“That’s romantic bullshit, Lace. What if I told you that Tyler and I got one of our women pregnant? It wasn’t supposed to be a serious thing but we’re taking responsibility and planning to raise her baby as a family? Wouldn’t that change how you feel? Wouldn’t that alter the circumstances just a little?”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re serious?”
“No.” His cold response left no doubts. “But it would have impacted the situation. There are other explanations that would do the same. Don’t promise what you can’t deliver, doll.”
Heat flared in her cheeks, generating anger to accompany her embarrassment. “Fine. But if you don’t want me, then what the hell are you doing stalking my house? Am I in some kind of danger? What’s going on with Rob’s case?”
He rubbed his hand over the major five o’clock shadow surrounding his luscious mouth. Her thoughts drifted to the way his lips had felt against hers and she nearly moaned.
All business once more, he answered, “I honestly don’t know, Lacey. I don’t mean to frighten you. I don’t have any proof but something’s off. I can’t put my finger on it yet but I’m working the case. Both of us are. Ty’s out canvassing the neighborhood around the crime scene.”
She noticed he couldn’t say “where Rob died”. They suffered, too. Of its own volition, her hand reached out to cup his face, her thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. He turned his head to press his lips against her palm before enfolding it in a light hold. Decades of friendship outshone their current impasse.
“You haven’t noticed anything unusual, have you?”
She shook her head. “No, there’s nothing going on inside except the freaking phone calls.”
“What phone calls?” His eyes narrowed.
“People ringing to say how sorry they are plus tons of reporters trying for a sound bite or an extra little scoop with a couple of hang-ups mixed in for added aggravation.” She rolled her eyes.
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “No heavy breathers? Creepy messages?”
“Nah. Nothing that exciting.”
The artificial distance he’d kept began to erode. They leaned toward each other, reveling in their familiar closeness, but Mrs. Potter’s dog chose then to bark and Mason swiveled around so fast she feared he’d given himself whiplash. He dropped her hand then cursed under his breath.
“I have to go, Lace.”
“Because of this?” She gestured back and forth in the air between them.
“Because it’s almost time for me to go on duty. I need to take over for Ty.”
Probably true, but she still detected his relief. “You’re not on duty now?”
“The chief didn’t feel there was any reason to warrant a dedicated resource shadowing you. But I can’t shake this feeling so I thought I’d take a drive by.”
“And you ended up staying all day? When are you going to sleep, Mason?”
He shrugged, “I’m fine. Look, just be careful okay?”
“I trust your instincts. I promise.”
“Good.” His sad smile devastated her. “Now go ahead back in the house. I’ll stay until you’re inside. Keep to where I can see you.”
She shivered. “You think someone’s out here?”
“I’m not taking any chances with you. Go now and I’ll send Ty over with a call recorder. It can’t hurt to screen your incomings for a while.”
She studied the stained floor mat under her sneakers.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Lacey. Here’s a secret. He’s miserable without you. He’s been irritable as a bear with a fucking thorn in its paw since he left. I think you two belong together.” He took a ragged breath. “And I’m going to tell him so.”
Mason’s declaration reverberated in her mind as she crossed the street. At the top of the stairs, she turned to wave before heading inside. He gave a curt nod in response. She shut and locked the door but couldn’t block out the vision of his tense expression.
She needed something to pass the time until Ty arrived or her head would explode with the possibilities. What would he say to Mason’s advice? Would he pursue her? Why would Mason encourage them to be together if he didn’t want her for himself?
He clearly knew the source of Tyler’s reservation, his pained expression had told her that much. She got the feeling he had just sacrificed something major for her. Was it a woman they both were interested in? Could she accept Tyler knowing that whatever secret the guys had shared would rip apart two men closer than most brothers?
In the office, she flopped down at her desk. Lacey wiggled her mouse until her monitor hummed to life, displaying the hundreds of emails she’d procrastinated sifting through.
The subjects didn’t vary much. “So Sorry”, “Just Heard” and “Our Condolences” were sprinkled around her favorite, “Are You Okay?”
Of course I’m not okay! When would people quit asking her that? They meant well but, come on, already. The disproportionate flare of her temper made her realize just how on edge she really was.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between two shaking fingers while concentrating on her breathing. When she’d nearly gotten herself under control, she spotted it.
“We Need To Talk,” from Anon Y. Mous.
What the hell?
Furious, she double-clicked the message to open it in a new window. She skimmed the first obvious line, “Your brother’s murder was no accident…” before she realized the action had initiated a chain reaction. The obnoxious red icon flashing in her system tray alerted her to the detection of a virus.
“No!” Struggling to react despite the way her stomach had dropped from the jolt of shock the message had inflicted, she pressed the delete key, banishing the message to the recycle bin. But the damage had already been done. A dialog box popped up over her email program. The status
bar zoomed from 0% to 100% almost faster than she could see. Then the blue screen of death obscured everything else.
“Son of a bitch!” Lacey powered down her machine then paused before restarting. She prayed it wasn’t as bad as it had looked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done a backup of her data. After a horrible grinding noise, a single line of text flashed on her screen.
Hard drive corrupt. Press F1 for help.
“Help! I’ll give you help!” She hauled off and kicked the tower beneath her desk before stomping upstairs.
At this point, she did the only thing she could. She fell into bed and gave in to tears for the umpteenth time this week. Her hand snaked beneath her pillow, as she hugged the downy puff to her, where it encountered the cool metal of Rob’s service revolver. Probably not an approved storage place but it comforted her to have some piece of him close by.
She squeezed the grip tight then cried herself to sleep.
“What kind of fucked-up shit is this? You’re kicking me out? Fucking dumping me?” Tyler watched Mason wince. The clueless bastard had probably never thought of himself as being in a relationship in the first place.
What else would you call it? They spent nearly every day together functioning seamlessly as partners. When they felt the need for a woman they shared one and, in private, they fucked each other. Hell, they’d even lived together since graduating high school nearly ten years before.
“You need each other. I can see the hunger in you both.”
“And you don’t think I want you, too? You don’t see how bad she needs you, too? Jackass!” Frustration spurred Ty to lash out.
“What can I give you, Ty? You deserve a life with her. Get married, have kids, do all the regular stuff you want to do. We’ve fooled around long enough, now it’s time for you to make something real, something lasting. Threesome’s are fun but how can it work long term?”
