Bad to the Bone

by Wendy Byrne

  Uncertain what had happened, she seized the opportunity and ran but tripped over a vine and tumbled to the ground. She started to crawl away as shouts sounded. Before she could get her bearings, Scott pounced on her and grabbed her around her neck, pinning her to the ground. Her vision started to fade as she struggled to disengage his hands from around her neck. She knew how to get out of this but couldn’t seem to muster the energy.

  “Drop it, Scott.” It sounded like Enrique’s voice.

  “Fuck you. I’ve got the prize. You can’t get to me without risking her life. You screwed up my sister’s life. I’m going to screw up yours.”

  “Teresa screwed up her own life. I didn’t force that needle in her arm. She was an addict and always will be. Nothing you can do will change that. In fact if anyone is to blame, it would be you.” Sammie turned to watch him approach, his gun steady in his hands. “I’m not putting down this rifle. Sooner or later you’ll flinch, and ping, your brain matter will be splattered all over this swamp,” Enrique shouted.

  Sammie brought her elbow back high, catching the edge of Scott’s chin. His knife sliced a path along her forearm.

  She ducked. A bullet exploded. Then silence.

  Her pulse spiked as she gathered the strength to glance around. Enrique ran toward her, while Jared stayed in the background.

  “Are you okay?” Enrique’s voice penetrated through the fog. She was safe. “Get something for her arm before she attracts a gator. She needs stitches.”

  “I want to see my uncle.” That was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Enrique guessed Sammie was in shock. She hadn’t said a word when they stitched her arm at a hospital outside Miami. Now they were in the car driving back to Key West while Jared stayed behind to fill out the paperwork.

  But he had the hard part to overcome—the inevitable confrontation. They’d been driving for at least a half hour, and she still hadn’t spoken a word.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier.” Enrique blurted out the words. For a minute, he didn’t think she’d heard, as she kept looking out the window.

  Slowly she turned toward him. Anger burned like a flame in her eyes. “Sorry? You’re sorry. Am I supposed to say, ‘That’s okay, Enrique, I forgive you’? Well, I won’t, because I don’t. In fact, I never will. You used me, and it’s unforgivable. I’m not even talking about what you did to Jack.”

  “Jack was a mistake. But I didn’t use you.” Grasping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, Enrique ground his teeth together.

  “Bullshit,” she spat back.

  “In the beginning, I’ll admit I wanted to get close to you so I could find out if you were part of it. But that was only in the beginning. After that, I knew you weren’t involved, and everything changed.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I guess you won’t believe me when I tell you that I tried to stay professional. I tried to do my job, but something about you kept drawing me in, daring me to cross that line.”

  “So it’s my fault you screwed me. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “You know that’s not what I’m saying. This is hard for me.”

  She bit off a bitter laugh. “I’ll bet it is.”

  “This is coming out all wrong.” His left leg shifted as every nerve in his body jumped.

  “I’m waiting.” She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. There was pain, remorse, disapproval, and something else glittering in her eyes.

  “Sammie, I’m in love with you.” He dared a glance, hoping to see some sign of forgiveness.

  But she laughed instead. The first time in a very long time he’d said that to a woman, and she laughed in his face.

  “That will do the trick, Enrique. Lie some more. You must think I’m really stupid.” She sucked in a deep breath. “‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it for me. You should have thought about what you were getting into before you took me to bed that first time.”

  She turned again to stare out the window. Well, if he hadn’t felt like shit before, he sure as hell did now.

  “Let me explain.” Enrique reached out to touch her as they drove. She shifted away.

  “There’s nothing to explain. You lied to me. All this time you lied to me. You probably thought I had something to do with this, that’s why you stuck around. That’s what it’s been about all this time. You were trying to get close to me to use me.” She shook her head and tears began to creep like tiny raindrops down her face. “You manipulated and lied to me like the rest of my loser boyfriends. Just because you did it under the guise of the law, doesn’t make you any better.”

  Shit. What she said made his chest constrict. “I did my job the only way I know how to.”

  “This whole time you had me convinced…” She shook her head.

  “Please. Let me explain.”

  Wiping at tears, she pulled in a ragged breath. “The only thing I despise more than bad boys is cops.”

  While she cried, Enrique felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He couldn’t think of another way to have avoided what happened.

  Except for sleeping with her before he’d put all his cards on the table. That had been a mistake. He’d deceived her, even if he’d had to. She didn’t seem to see it that way. And maybe she was right.

  Maybe the time had come to tell her everything. He owed her that much. It might help her understand where he’d been coming from.

  “My ex-wife was involved with drugs. It went on for a long time before I figured it out.”

  She didn’t respond. Then again, he didn’t expect her to. But she was listening. At least he hoped.

  “Before I married her, I knew she had a drinking problem. My mother says I like to save sick puppies. Maybe that’s what I saw in her. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was into much more than drinking. She was heavily into pot and cocaine. The next leap was to heroin.”

  He let out a cynical laugh, still not believing his own stupidity. “All the signs were there, I didn’t want to see them.

  “I started working for the DEA. She was going to school. Or so I thought. Money was missing. I’d go to the bank and find the account overdrawn.”

  Sammie turned in her seat to face him. She still hadn’t said a word.

  “Each time it was a different excuse. Finally, I took the checkbook, hoping to stem the flow of money. But she found another way to come up with what she needed.” He grimaced as the memory rose fresh in his mind. “I learned later, she stole every day to support her habit. When that wasn’t enough, she progressed to other things. The fact that she hooked up with Maxwell Lincoln doesn’t surprise me at all at this point.” Enrique couldn’t say the words out loud. It was much too painful for him to admit his wife had prostituted herself for drugs.

  “Mel, my supervisor, and I had been working on a case for months. We knew when the drug shipment was coming in and planned on catching them in the act and making the arrests. When they greeted us with gunfire, I knew there was only one way they could have known we were coming—I kept notes on my computer. Teresa got to them and sold them for her next hit. She almost killed both Mel and me to support her habit. Of course I denied it at first, but there was only one explanation for how or why the drug dealers found us that day. That’s where the bullet wound scar on my thigh came from.”

  He forced a smile. “I’m glad Mel wasn’t hurt. I don’t think I could have forgiven myself for being so stupid.”

  “That proves nothing except that you were ruthless. You thought I was like your ex-wife all along and played me as if I was her. Except I wasn’t, but you didn’t care. You wanted to see me hang because in your mind we were one and the same.”

  He gulped back the dose of reality she’d just served him. “You’re right. I lumped you into the same category as Teresa. But it’s my job to assume the worst until proven otherwise.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes
. “Your job was to sleep with me? Your job was to grind your heel into my heart and call it a day?” The angry swipe at the tears as they started to spill let him know the depth of her hurt. “Maybe you did it to snoop in my closets to see if I had any stash hidden. Or maybe you thought I’d divulge something during pillow talk.” She clucked. “How pathetic.” She wrapped her arms around her torso. “I don’t want to see you, Enrique. Drop me off at the hospital.” She pointed out the window and turned her body away from him.

  He pulled the car in front of the hospital. She reached for the handle, but turned at the last minute. “Why did Tony have your number?”

  “He was my informant. He turned over evidence against Jack.”

  …

  When Enrique told Sammie about Teresa and all that had happened, something squeezed inside her chest. It hurt like hell. She felt so stupid. But how could he think she was like Teresa?

  He’d told her he loved her. Granted, he’d blurted it out in the middle of an argument, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he meant what he’d said. He’d proved he was an excellent liar. He sure had fooled her.

  Sammie had thought she had no tears left, but a steady stream of liquid poured from her eyes. Her life had gone to shit in only a couple of weeks.

  But right now, she had to concentrate on Jack. He was her priority.

  Sammie shook off Enrique’s help when they arrived at the hospital but he still followed her inside. She ignored him as much as she could and rushed ahead, getting directions to the ICU from the information desk.

  The quiet in the halls on the third floor brought about an eerie calm. The thought that everyone on this floor was only a heartbeat away from death took root in her mind and didn’t want to let go. The contrast of the whirl and buzz of machines emanating from each room only added to the strange atmosphere.

  Her breath caught as tears streamed down her cheeks. Seeing her uncle hooked up to machines that blinked and beeped and whooshed brought a sense of dread. Although she’d known intellectually what to expect, the sight shook her to the core.

  After rushing to his side, she stroked his fingers, feeling relief at the warmth of his skin against hers. She held them against her cheek, hoping he could somehow sense her presence.

  “I’m here, Uncle Jack. Everything’s going to be okay now.” She whispered the words close to his ear while her lips grazed his cheek.

  Clutching his hand, Sammie plopped down in a chair, worried her wobbly legs wouldn’t support her. She stared at Jack as the hours passed, hoping for the slightest of movements to let her know he was coming around.

  “Sammie,” Enrique said.

  His voice brought about a rush of painful memories to the surface. She closed her eyes while anger, bitterness, and resentment rumbled through.

  She released her uncle’s hand, pushed up from the chair, and strode the length of the room. With her right index finger, she prodded his chest. “If he dies, it’s on your head.”

  “I’m sorry…but he was dealing drugs. My hands were tied.” He reached for her fingers while his words whispered through his lips. She twisted away.

  “Did you investigate as to why someone who hadn’t been involved in drugs his whole life suddenly decided to be a drug dealer? No, you didn’t care. As long as you get another notch on your total bad guy count, you don’t care who you hurt or kill in the process. You’re out to prove yourself after screwing up.”

  “It’s not like that.” He paced the length of the room.

  She didn’t want him here. He only made things worse, reminding her of what a fool she’d been. “Bullshit.”

  “Sammie…”

  At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, and she’d imagined Jack’s voice. But she turned and spotted the almost imperceptible flutter of his eyelashes.

  Rushing to his side, she grabbed for his hand. “I’m here, Jack. You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to leave you until you’re all right.” She brought his hand up to her cheek.

  Looking at her through eyes that barely opened, he gasped, “Sammie…Jonathan…you’re in danger.”

  “Everything’s okay. They can’t hurt either of us anymore.”

  His fingers raised inches off the bed, and he pointed toward Enrique. “You. Help her.”

  An alarm sounded as Jack’s hand fell back to his side. Seconds later nurses and doctors came rushing inside.

  “You’ll need to leave the room.”

  Surrounding the bed, nurses urged them toward the door. Sammie’s legs felt like they were filled with lead as Enrique slid his arm about her shoulder and escorted her out the door. She didn’t have the strength to pull away.

  They waited outside. Not moving. Not saying a word. An awkward ending to a horrendous day.

  Finally, the door slid open. The nurse had a tight smile. “His heart is back in rhythm, and he’s stable. For the next few days it’s going to be touch and go.”

  She turned to look at Enrique. “Don’t you dare step a foot inside that room.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Enrique had fucked up. There was no other way to put it. Sammie didn’t trust him, and he didn’t blame her. There wasn’t a damn thing he could think to do to change it. He couldn’t undo what he’d done. She knew that. He knew that.

  He hadn’t torpedoed his career—in fact, just the opposite. After everything was said and done, Mel had apologized and given him a recommendation for promotion. Following the trail of Maxwell Lincoln, they’d been able to make a major bust and take down a line of drug trafficking from Miami to Key West to South America. But all that didn’t make him feel any better. He was screwed.

  And he’d done it to himself.

  She’d never forgive him. And he didn’t blame her.

  Maybe he could talk to the state about Jack. He’d gotten caught up in the middle of a mess that had absolutely nothing to do with him. Yes, he’d sold drugs, but after Enrique and Jared worked through all the data they found, he learned the cartel had sucked Jack into the mess because of a gambling debt. They found mounds and mounds of data to back it up. He might not be able to get the state to drop charges, but they would be able to reduce them and maybe let him off with probation.

  If nothing else, he could make it up to Sammie that way.

  …

  Jack had been home from the hospital for a couple of weeks and was recuperating. In return for his testimony, the state gave him five years’ probation and a warning about serving his time if he was caught in or near a betting establishment of any kind.

  Sammie hadn’t heard from Enrique, which was just as well. She could never forgive him, even if the idea of living her life without him brought a searing pain to her chest.

  Regardless of his tale about his ex-wife. Regardless of the fact that he’d professed his love. She knew better than to trust his admission.

  She fingered her clothes as she shoved them into the suitcase. Her heart felt like it had been broken into chunks that no matter what she did would never heal.

  “You need to stop moping and call him.” Jack was moving slowly but getting around all right. He’d had a couple of offers to buy the bar but hadn’t yet finalized anything.

  “Enrique’s not a bad boy at all. He’s nice and normal, and I’m in love with him. But he lied to me. He was working undercover as a DEA agent and didn’t tell me who he really was.” She gulped back the tears wanting to escape.

  “I hate to be practical, but the whole point of being undercover is to keep your identity a secret.” He shook his head and smiled. “So you like this guy?” When she nodded he continued. “That’s your problem. Always looking for trouble when there is none.”

  “But it is trouble.”

  “I don’t know about that. You can’t judge a book by its cover. I honestly don’t know how you’ve gotten such screwed-up ideas so that everything good is bad and everything bad is good.” He patted her arm. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

  “And
he loves Key West and Florida, and you know how I loathe this place.” She glanced at Jack and smiled. “No offense.”

  “My God, girl, didn’t I teach you anything? You need to follow your heart and not be so stubborn about all this.”

  “But he lied. He was using me just like all the other men I’ve hooked up with. Just because he was a cop doesn’t make it right.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she closed her suitcase. “I need to hurry or I’ll miss my flight.” Saying the words made her feel like her heart had a rip down the center of it.

  Jack sighed. Loudly. Then shook his head like he used to do when she wasn’t listening to reason. “Go on to Providence and get your art collection together. Painting is your passion and you should always follow it—whether in work or love.” He chucked her chin. “Got that, missy?”

  Sammie nodded, picked up her suitcase, and moved toward the door. “And you’ll come visit me soon?” She dropped her suitcase, wrapped her arms around his neck, and squeezed. Ironically, the moment that she’d been longing for, leaving the Keys, didn’t bring her relief. Maybe the thousands of miles between them would make her miss Enrique less. She could only hope.

  “You’ve got your meds all laid out, right? You’re not going to forget. The wound could still get infected and you’ll end up back in the hospital.”

  “And you’re going to miss your plane. I’ll be up to visit you soon as soon as I finalize the sale of the bar.”

  “Thanks for everything, Uncle Jack. And I do mean everything, from when I was little to this very day. I love you. See you soon.” She blew him a kiss.

  “Right back at you, girl.”

  …

  Sammie felt hungover when she woke up the following morning back in her Providence apartment, even though she hadn’t had a drop to drink. Her eyes were swollen, her skin was pasty, and all she wanted to do was slide back into bed. The last day and a half had been a killer. And she didn’t see it getting any better unless she gave in and admitted her mistake.