“For him. I never heard his door close.” Then she shifted and opened the door a crack, letting a sliver of light into the darkened loft. She shut it silently again, closing out the light. “He’s got his door open,” she whispered, “and he’s sitting right there.”
“Doing what?”
She exhaled. “I don’t know. He’s on the floor, sitting cross-legged, with his hands on his knees, palms up, and his head back.”
Rafe wouldn’t mind seeing the big man like that. “I’ll check it out when I leave,” he said.
She spoke quickly as she threw the bolt lock on the door. “Oh no, he can’t see you leave, not yet.”
“Why not?”
“He thinks we’re...you and me, that we’re in here, and you can’t just leave like that.” There was a soft thump, then she moved past him and into the shadows. As he turned, a low light flashed on by the sofa. “You saw him,” she whispered, coming closer again. “And he’s got a key to this place. I don’t want him to think I’m here alone.”
Rafe was shocked that he’d never thought about that. His feelings, his emotions were blocking out all logical thought. “Okay, you’re right. I should stick around for a while,” he said, and just hoped she wouldn’t thank him, because he was being very self-serving at that moment.
“Thank you,” she said.
“But you know, this isn’t in my job description.”
He thought they’d laugh at least, something to break the tension, but it didn’t happen. “I guess not,” she said softly.
A loud thumping came at the door, and Megan jumped at the sound. Rafe moved past her, took time to undo the top two buttons on his uniform and toss the hat to one side, then opened the door. Trig was there, holding the orange cat.
“He’s been squalling to get in, and it’s driving us nuts,” the big man said. “He’s breaking up my meditation.” Before Rafe could reach for the cat, the beast broke free, flying out of the biker’s arms and into the loft. “Silly cat,” Trig muttered, then looked past Rafe and winked. “He’s all yours, sweetheart.”
With that he turned and lumbered back to his place. Rafe watched him go, but the man left the door open and proceeded to sit on the floor with two others. The smell of incense was strong in the air. Rafe eased back and closed the door, then turned to find Megan standing beside him, her scent replacing the incense.
He inhaled cautiously, but still wasn’t ready for the response that flooded through him as he watched her turn away from him and look up at the top of the nearest wall. He followed her gaze, and even in the shadows he could make out the dark shape of the cat.
“Great, now he’s back,” she murmured softly. Then she turned again, inches from Rafe. “Did Trig close the door this time?”
“No, he didn’t,” he said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks to make very sure he didn’t reach out to touch her. “It looks like they’re having some sort of consciousness raising session with the help of herbs.”
“Oh, great,” Megan breathed, feeling caught and confined. The space in the loft seemed filled with Rafe’s presence.
The evening had been crazy, her reactions to everything were even crazier. She couldn’t stop thinking about his hand on hers in the car, then him pulling her to his side, protecting her from the biker. He was just helping her, doing what he did—protecting people. It was her making so much more out of it, letting it tangle up her thoughts and touch something in her being that she couldn’t begin to define.
But if he walked out now, she wasn’t sure what would happen. Would Trig come on over and ask her to party? Or having a key, would he just let himself in? She didn’t know why he had a key to begin with, or why he didn’t give it to her. She turned away from Rafe, saying something about getting them both a drink, even though she didn’t have any idea if there was anything to drink in the kitchen.
But she stopped at the kitchen door and turned back. Why couldn’t she figure out if it was more dangerous for him to go, leaving her to deal with Trig, or for her to let him stay in this place with her? “Maybe you...you need to get home?” she asked. She’d forgotten about his sons. “The boys are probably waiting for you, and I can just bolt the door.”
He was silent, then came across to where she stood. “A drink. I could use a drink. Any soda around here?”
Soda? “I don’t think so,” she said, and turned to go into the kitchen. She flipped on the overhead light, blinking at the brightness, then checked the refrigerator. Nothing to drink there except creamer. She’d used it in the last of the instant coffee that morning, and hadn’t thought to go shopping.
She opened the cupboard by the small refrigerator and found the cans of tuna, and behind them, lying on its side, a bottle. “Sparkling grape juice,” she said. “How’s that?”
Rafe spoke from somewhere behind her. “Fine.”
“Good,” she said without looking back at him.
Rafe was suddenly right behind her. “Let me do that,” he said, taking the bottle from her hands.
“Sure...thanks,” she said. Megan moved to the right, away from Rafe. “I’ll get glasses.”
She found two drinking glasses by the sink. Megan put the glasses on the counter. “These are all I have.”
“They didn’t stock the place, did they?” he asked as he filled the glasses halfway with the sparkling liquid.
“I should have shopped, but I haven’t had time,” she said, reaching for the closest glass, then carrying it back to the living area.
Rafe followed, and when she crossed to the sofa, so did he. She sank down in one corner, not bothering to turn on more lights, and pushed off her shoes to tuck her feet under her. Cradling the glass in both hands, she chanced a look at Rafe. He was on the other side of the couch, looking at her as he took a sip of juice. “So, now what?” he asked as he lowered the glass.
“I don’t know. I think you could leave soon, and as I said, I’ll fasten the dead bolt. Besides, he’s probably harmless.” She wasn’t so sure of that, but she wouldn’t admit as much to Rafe. “And your sons are waiting for you.”
Glancing at his wristwatch, Rafe took out a cell phone and punched in a number. He spoke quickly, then closed the phone and pushed it into his pocket. “They’re in bed,” he said. “They’re fine.”
She looked down at her glass and spoke before thinking. “It must be hard without their mother.”
She heard him sigh, releasing his breath softly, and she looked over at him. He was taking another drink, almost draining the glass this time. Then he was looking at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. “It was awful at first,” he said softly. “I guess it was a good thing the boys were so young.” He drained the last of his drink, reached for the bottle that he’d brought into the room with him, splashed it half-full again and sat back, but didn’t drink any more.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” she murmured, then took a sip of her own drink. Coolness ran down her throat, spreading in her stomach, only adding to the chill she felt when she saw Rafe lean forward, his elbows on his knees. He held the glass in both hands, dangling from his fingers.
“It’s okay,” he finally said. “It was two years ago...a lifetime away.”
She took another sip, but it didn’t distract her from the sorrow she felt deep inside her, or the desire to make things okay between them. That was foolish—beyond foolish. Her grip on the glass tightened. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, not sure what else to say, and realized she’d apologized to him more often than she had to any other human being in her life.
“It seems as if I was with Gabriella all my life. We were kids when we met, and it was natural for us to get married. Then the children...” He shrugged, and his head seemed to sag. “It took forever for them to come along, and then things seemed perfect for a while.”
“Was she
ill for a long time?” Megan asked, not realizing that she’d moved closer to him.
“Gabriella? Sick? No, she was healthy as a horse. She carried the twins without a problem.” He tossed back part of the juice, then closed his eyes tightly. “It was a home invasion robbery that went bad. I was working, and the boys...they were with their grandmother. Gabriella was home alone, and some punks broke in. The police think she put up a fight...she probably did...and they shot her. Just shot her and took off in her car.”
Rafe exhaled, and Megan saw his shoulders shudder with the action. She moved even closer, putting her glass on the coffee table and allowing herself to touch his arm. He didn’t move. He stared into his glass. There were no words, none that she could find to say to him.
“She died right away,” he said. “And by the time I got there, it was over.”
“Did they catch the men?”
He nodded slightly. “The next day the car was spotted, and in the chase, it crashed. One of the guys was killed, with a broken neck from being thrown from the car, and the other one...he’s in prison.” Rafe drank more juice, the action breaking her contact with his arm. “He’s in for life.”
So was Rafe, she knew. And in a fleeting moment, she felt a raging anger at the way a life could be shattered. He’d loved Gabriella. He still loved her. Megan didn’t have to ask about that at all; she felt it in every word he said. “The boys...they seem so normal,” she said softly, sitting beside him, but not touching him now. “So sweet.”
“They’re young, and as everyone tells me, kids are resilient. Too bad adults aren’t,” he muttered. “The twins seem to forget all about their mother—her death, anyway. Then Gabe does something like he did last week, and it all comes back. They keep saying that soon Gabriella will be like a dream to them, or a story I’ve been telling them.”
“No,” Megan said. “That won’t happen. Not if you’re with them. You’ll keep her alive for them.” She had no idea where those words came from, but they were true. She knew that. She didn’t know how, but they were. “Gabriella’s their mother and a part of them. She always will be,” she stated, as certain of that as the fact that this man brought out things in her that she’d never known existed before.
He put his glass down on the table, then turned to her. Lifting his hand, he touched her cheek, the contact unsteady and unsettling. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, then he gathered her to him.
He was holding her. No, he was holding on to her, and she let him. She nestled against his chest. She felt his heart beating against her cheek, and his arms tightly surrounding her. And in that moment, she felt a jealousy for a dead woman that made no more sense to her than being here with him did.
He loved Gabriella in a way Megan had never been loved and suspected she never would be. It was that simple. Ryan was great, terrific, but there wasn’t a heart-wrenching need in him to be with her. And it wasn’t in her, either.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to get a grip on reality. Then Rafe eased her back, and she was looking up at him.
The kiss that came was natural and lingering, but it wasn’t passionate. It was a connection, as if Rafe needed it at that moment. He needed her to help push away the emptiness in his life.
And that was one thing she couldn’t do. She wouldn’t survive when he let go of her and walked away. She knew that, too.
She moved back from him, breaking the connection. He retreated in turn, reaching for the glass again, and she was suddenly alone, as surely as if he’d stood and left. That’s what he had to do. He had to go. She had to figure out her feelings. And with him here, she’d never be able to do that.
She heard him take a breath, as if he was going to say something, but it got cut off when the banging sounded on the door again. Rafe stood immediately, going past her without a glance. She got up and hurried after him, and stood right behind him when he called, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, buddy—Trig.”
“What’s going on?”
“The cat,” Trig said.
Rafe glanced at her, then opened the door partway to find the huge man with the animal in his arms again. “The cat?”
“Sorry to interrupt your partying, but the cat is back and he didn’t bring a hat.” He grinned at Rafe as if he was pleased with his little rhyme. “Can you close off the fire escape or something, or teach him how to open it himself?”
The cat leaped out of Trig’s arms, darting into the loft. “Sorry,” Rafe said.
Megan turned her back to the door, watching the cat disappear into the shadows of the bedroom, and she heard Trig saying, “I don’t have any food for the monster, or I think he’d be happy over there.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Then the door was closing, and Rafe was right behind her. She heard him say, “Megan?” softly, inches from her, but she didn’t turn. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to settle herself before she faced him again.
He whispered her name again, and then his hands went around her waist. She closed her eyes tightly, colors exploding behind her lids as his lips found hers.
Rafe was lost after the first touch, after reaching for her, and there was no thought of anything but kissing her. He didn’t know why he’d told her about Gabriella, but he’d needed to. He’d had to say her name out loud, testing it, and to relate what had happened to her. He didn’t understand why at all, because he hadn’t spoken about it with anyone else.
Then he’d held Megan, and so many things started to happen to him. He’d kissed her, and something in him had settled—almost as if a door had closed and another had opened. It was as if the brilliance of grief had been dulled. The sharp edges were gone, and he didn’t know why. Not any more than he knew why he’d reached for Megan after Trig had left again.
He knew that at least something his friends and family had told him had been right. He could move on. He could keep living. He could exist in a world where he’d known loss, but where life was still waiting for him.
A noise cut into the moment—a phone ringing. Not his cell phone, and not hers. It was the phone over by the workstation. Megan pushed back.
“Are you going to answer it?” he asked.
She looked at him with shadowed blue eyes. He didn’t want her to answer the phone; all he wanted was kiss her again. Then the ringing stopped and the machine picked it up—an automated voice asking the caller to leave a short message after the beep.
“Megan. Ryan. Sorry to miss you, love. I got tied up, and tried to get out sooner, but you know business.”
Rafe watched Megan. She wasn’t moving, just staring in the direction of the phone. So that was her Ryan? “I tried your cell phone, but it wouldn’t go through. I guess you’re still at work. Maybe I’ll try there.”
Megan didn’t move a muscle until Ryan lowered his voice slightly. “I miss you, babe, and sure wish you were here...” that was when Megan moved, hurrying over to the phone as Ryan kept talking “...so we could just—”
“I’m here,” she said softly.
Rafe turned from the sight of her on the phone, then saw Megan’s cell phone on the floor by the couch. He picked it up and laid it on the side table. He turned as Megan spoke softly into the phone. “Yes, it’s been too long, far too long,” she said, and Rafe knew it was time to go. He’d been a fool, and his only excuse was he’d been alone too long.
He almost went out the door, but remembered Trig and turned.
What had the biker said? Something about the fire escape? Rafe looked around, eyeing the old window system they’d used in buildings like this. He crossed to the worktable, and Megan glanced at him, the shadows hiding her eyes, but he could see the way she was clutching the phone receiver with both hands. “Yes, Ryan, yes, I do,” she said, then looked away, turning her shoulder as if to shut Rafe out.
Time to go,
he thought with a trace of bitterness, then headed for the fire escape. He gripped the worn metal handle, which creaked loudly as it gave and the window opened. He looked back at Megan and motioned with his hand. “I’ll go out this way,” he murmured. “They won’t see me leave.”
“No, wait,” she whispered quickly.
He almost stopped, but when Ryan said something to her, she replied, “No. Of course not. It’s no one.”
Rafe turned away and climbed out the tall window onto a metal-railed fire escape, noting the light spilling out of the loft next door, along with the fragrance of burning herbs and the low drone of blues music. The words It’s no one rang in his ears as he hit the release for the drop stairs, which slid out and down with remarkable quietness.
Megan was engaged, and he’d been so out of line that it made him ache. Without looking back into the loft, he climbed down, let go and jumped to the ground. He walked away into the night.
* * *
MEGAN HUNG UP from Ryan as quickly as she could, and went to the fire escape window. Rafe was gone. She buried her head in her hands for a long moment, then crossed to the front door and threw the bolt on it. After feeding the cat, she went back into the bedroom and straight through to the bathroom. At the sink, she turned on the cold water and splashed her face. A dream? A nightmare? She wasn’t sure how her insanity should be labeled at that moment.
She cringed at the way she’d kissed Rafe. And she cringed at her first reaction when she’d realized the call was from Ryan. She hadn’t wanted him to phone. She hadn’t wanted to hear his voice. She hadn’t wanted Rafe to stop. But Ryan had called, and the insanity had been stopped. Rafe was gone, and she was alone.
She looked in the mirror before reaching for a towel, and the eyes that looked back at her were smudged by shadows. A life that had made perfect sense to her two weeks ago made no sense now. And all because of one man.
The phone rang again, and she jumped slightly at the sound. After three rings, it went to the machine, then a voice came over the speaker, stunning her.
Undercover Father Page 13
