by Linda Grimes
I picked up my pace. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw the driver was looking at his phone. Probably checking directions, or maybe texting. If Mom saw him, she’d give him holy hell for not keeping his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel.
I was even more reassured when the glow of a streetlight caught his face and I saw it wasn’t Loughlin. Hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath until then. Still, I hurried to the cross street—a major road where you could always find a taxi this time of morning. It didn’t take long for one to stop for me. The driver wasn’t thrilled with the address I gave him—he would have preferred a longer fare—but jollied up fast enough when I assured him I was a good tipper.
Once we were moving, I peeked out the back window. The SUV was two cars behind us. It was a common model, but I recognized the driver’s haircut, so it had to be him.
Calm down, Ciel. Stop being so twitchy. Lots of cars go this way. Just because someone is behind you doesn’t mean he’s following you.
Unless, of course, he stayed behind you all the way to the relatively obscure gym you were going to, and held up traffic in his lane while he watched you leave your taxi and walk into the building, staring at you the whole time he was talking to someone on his cell phone. Then, I hazarded a guess, he was probably following you.
Chapter 8
Okay, I thought later, while I was beating the shit out of a heavy bag. The guy definitely hadn’t been Loughlin. Might be connected somehow, might not. For all I knew, he was some pervert who got his jollies following women, seeing if he could get them to react. Kind of like catcalling, only without words.
Creepy? For sure. Dangerous? Hard to say. I’d mention it to Billy or Mark later, and see what they thought. There was no point in bothering them this early, not when I was now safely in a gym surrounded by well-muscled witnesses.
I hit the bag with a rapid-fire barrage of punches. My form no doubt sucked—it was my first time wearing boxing gloves—but it was a great release all the same. The nice old man with the battered face at the desk up front had been unpacking some new youth gloves when I’d arrived. I admired their bright green color, and jokingly said something about how they must make you feel as powerful as the Hulk when you wore them. He’d laughed, and told me I should try them and see.
He didn’t know it yet, but he’d made a sale. I did feel rather Hulk-like when I lit into the bag. Like I said, great release. Plus, as I’d suspected, a hell of lot more fun than wondering if I was pregnant. Time to figure that out later.
I felt a warm hand on my bicep and reacted without thinking, twisting my torso and aiming up by instinct, connecting with the face before I could stop myself. He fell backward, landing on his butt, cradling his jaw with one hand.
I’d never seen Mark look quite so surprised.
I sank down beside him, reaching for his face with both hands. He flinched away from the gloves, understandably leery.
“Crap.” I untied my right glove using my teeth, wedged it under my arm, and yanked my hand out. “I didn’t know it was you. I am so sorry!” I pulled the glove off my other hand.
He pushed himself up to a steadier position. “My fault, Howdy. I shouldn’t have tried to adjust your form without telling you first. Good reflexes, by the way.”
I blushed at his praise, as usual. “Thanks. What are you doing here, anyway? James never told me you came to his gym.”
“I don’t. One of my guys told me you were here.”
“How did he—wait, did you have somebody watching Mom and Dad’s house? Was that who was following me?”
“Yeah. Obviously, he didn’t do a great job of it if you spotted him. My fault. I told him to watch out for anything odd around the house, but not to be stealthy about it. When you left so early, he decided he better see where you were going. Once he reported to me, he went back to watching the house.”
“But why?”
“Billy insisted. Said he wouldn’t leave you there unless I put men on the house.”
That made me feel all warm inside, and kind of pissed off at the same time. “You think it might have been nice to tell me? You know, so I don’t get the freaking shit scared out of me when a strange man follows me around?”
Mark smiled. It was sort of lopsided, because the left side of his face was getting puffy. “I told your dad while you were saying good-bye to Billy. I guess you didn’t hear.” There was a rueful look in Mark’s eyes, which made me remember every second of Billy’s good-bye kiss. Yeah, it was safe to say I hadn’t heard anything. “The guy made you a little jumpy, I take it?”
No wonder Mom and Dad hadn’t made more of a fuss when I left the house on my own. I huffed a wry laugh. “Tiny bit.”
“Think it might have been a good idea to call Billy or me if you were worried?” he said, sounding a tad perturbed.
“I was here by then. Presumably safe. Didn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep.”
He looked around the training room. All the gym rats had paused their various workout activities to stare at us, probably trying to decide which of us required assistance. Mark waved them off, indicating he was fine.
“So, why are you here, Howdy? Isn’t this a little out of your usual New York routine?”
I sat back, wrapping my arms loosely around my knees. “Had to get out of the house. You know how crazy Mom gets around the holidays. This year she’s positively manic. I needed some breathing space.”
His eyes sharpened, delving beneath the words, as usual. “You’re happy about the baby, aren’t you? I know Thomas is thrilled, and so is Laura.”
My breath caught when he said the word “baby.” Stupid, I know. “Sure I am,” I said breezily. “I’m as thrilled as they are. Hey, I’m gonna be an aunt”—please, God, only an aunt—“to what will no doubt be the most gifted child ever born. According to Thomas, anyway. What’s not to be thrilled about?”
Mark cocked his head, still absently rubbing his jaw, looking like he wanted to ask more but wasn’t sure he should. Ultimately, he stood and reached down to give me a hand up. “So, are you meeting James here?”
I grinned, happy to get off the baby topic. “Damn, I sure hope so. Otherwise I lied to Mom, and you know that never works out well—never mind, here comes reprieve.”
James joined us, looking fit and trim in his stylish workout clothes. His boyfriend, Devon the Gorgeous, must have bought them for him, because James normally didn’t care what he wore, as long as it was functional, comfortable, and reasonably appropriate to the occasion. He steadfastly claimed not all gay men were fashionistas.
“Fancy meeting the two of you here. Thinking of switching teams, Mark?” he said, teasing.
Mark laughed, a pleasant rumble no one heard often enough. “Afraid not. I’m trying to keep tabs on your sister.”
I looked around, for the first time noticing the predominance of supremely—one might go as far as to say scrupulously—fit men. “Geez, my gaydar sucks,” I muttered.
James caught it, and whispered, “Don’t worry, sis. I don’t think you need it.” And was that a wink? My normally staid brother was loosening up. Go, Devon!
“So,” James continued, “Mom called to make sure I didn’t ‘forget’ about our date. She seems to be under the impression I am the proverbial absentminded professor.”
“Well, if the proverbial shoe fits…” I said.
He lifted an eyebrow very similar to the one our mother had lifted at me earlier. “Be that as it may, I’m fairly certain we did not, in fact, have a date to meet here this morning.”
“You didn’t tell Mom, did you?”
“I did not.”
I hugged him, throwing my arms around his neck, and kissing his cheek for good measure. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite brother?”
“Of course I am. Thomas is a domineering ass and Brian, God help us all, is an indie band member whose only redeeming quality is that he doesn’t play bass. Why wouldn’t I be your favorite?” Humor glinted in t
he green eyes that were mirrors of my own, his affection for our mutual brothers obvious.
Mark acknowledged the teasing with a smile. “Listen, if you’re going to be here with Ciel, maybe I better get going. Think you could see her back to your parents’ place when you’re done?”
“Does this have anything to do with what Mom told me about Mason Pickering? You think it’s connected to Aunt Helen somehow?” James asked. I felt a pang at the mention of Aunt Helen, and Mason, too, though I’d barely known him. “Is Ciel in danger?”
“To answer all your questions, yes, don’t know, and not necessarily. But like I keep trying to tell your sister, caution doesn’t hurt.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said, sounding more grumpy than I intended. I needed some time to myself to take the stupid pregnancy test so I could stop worrying about that.
“Don’t get pissed, Howdy. It’s only until we find out who’s behind the murders,” Mark said.
“It’s a stupid waste of your resources. Geez Louise, I just decked you! I think that proves I’m perfectly capable of getting myself where I want to go when I leave here without a man’s help.” Which wasn’t going to be back to my parents’ house, though I didn’t feel the need to mention that.
Both of James’s eyebrows had shot up at my declaration about Mark.
“Not on purpose,” I explained. “He startled me—I didn’t know it was him.” A common problem for me, I thought wryly.
“Listen, if Billy thinks you’re wandering off someplace on your own—no matter how capable you are of taking care of yourself—he’ll be useless to me.”
Okay, that got my attention. Billy was doing something for Mark? “Did he really go to D.C. to meet with a client? He’s not going after Loughlin on his own, is he? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Yes, he went to meet with a client—we didn’t lie to you, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I did ask him to scope out NASA’s headquarters while he was there, to see if he could dig up anything useful on Loughlin.” He paused, looking at me intently. “Howdy, I need Billy’s head in the game, so we can finish this up fast. It won’t be, if he’s worried about you.”
“Damn it,” I said, lowering my voice even more. The emotion still came through loud and clear. “I should have gone with him. I’m the one who has Loughlin’s aura. Did you ever even consider that that might be handy?”
“Cool your jets, slugger.” Mark stroked his jaw. “Billy was already down there when I thought to send him to NASA. It’s a long shot. And he couldn’t use Loughlin’s aura anyway—what if he’d run into him? I promise to keep you in mind if we need the aura. But it won’t be happening today.” Mark finished with one of his devastatingly appealing smiles. Seriously. Half the men in the gym were drooling over him.
James looked around, and announced to the room in general, “Forget it, guys. He’s straight.”
There was a chorus of groans, but it didn’t take them long to get back to the serious business of maintaining their temples.
Mark hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and I have to admit, it was hard to resist the pull of his smile. Besides, I knew if I didn’t agree, he’d stay with me himself, and I didn’t want to keep him from his work. “All right. James, may I hang out with you today?”
“Happy to have the company, sis. I promised I’d go shopping with Devon after we’re through here, and he’d love to spend time with you. He’s always saying how he wants to get to know my family better.”
Gah. Shopping? Was this retribution for lying to my mother? I glanced heavenward. Go for the thunderbolt next time, Big Guy. It would be more merciful.
* * *
“Last stop, I promise!” Devon the Gorgeous pulled me into the baby store by my elbow. He used to say he was bisexual because it would have been too cruel to deprive either gender of his company. (I think he was teasing.) These days he had eyes only for James.
I dug in my heels. “Guys, I’m all shopped out”—absolutely true—“and I’d only slow you down. Why don’t I wait for you out here? Oh, look, there’s a bench.”
“Nonsense. It won’t take a minute. We absolutely must find something fun for your new niece or nephew,” Devon said.
I shifted the four shopping bags I carried to my other arm. “No, really. You go ahead. I’ll find something for the”—I swallowed hard—“baby later.”
James gave me a small shove, juggling his own bags. “Come on, sis. If I can do this, you can, too.”
Crap. And I’d been doing so well up until then. Hadn’t thought about any uncomfortable what-ifs since I’d chased down the waitress at breakfast and changed my coffee order to decaf, asking her not to mention it when she brought it to the table. James might not notice what I drank, but Devon tended to be a lot more observant about people than my brother.
The splitting headache I was getting from caffeine withdrawal wasn’t helping my nerves any.
Since breakfast we’d hit what felt like every store at the Long Island outlet mall Devon had insisted had the best bargains. I’d joined in on the shopping with determined merriment. As long as I had to do this, I might as well get my own Christmas shopping out of the way, or at least part of it. The tie I’d found for Billy (with lumps of coal on it, each one printed with the word “naughty” in different fonts) almost made the trip worthwhile. Between the tie and the kitschy assortment of Christmas bathroom decorations I’d found for Mom, the wad of twenties Billy had pressed on me ran out pretty fast, but I could replace them as soon as I laid hands on my wallet again. Which, granted, wouldn’t be until I stopped avoiding Laura.
God, Ciel, grow up already.
I took a deep breath and marched myself into the store, secretly starting to hope Loughlin would show up. Dealing with a possible killer would be less painful than fake-smiling at infant paraphernalia.
Devon was oohing and aahing over miniature clothing, soft toys, and crib accessories that made me want to scream and run the other way. Even James had a besotted expression on his face he normally reserved for the contents of petri dishes.
“If only we knew the gender of the baby,” Devon lamented, fondling a tiny leather jacket with “Heck’s Angels” printed on the back. “Then we’d know whether to get the lettering in pink or blue.”
“Well,” I suggested, antsier than ever to leave, “if we waited until…” I trailed off when a petite woman who looked about my age rounded the corner of our aisle, pushing a double stroller with twin boys, one with spiky blond wisps of hair, the other sporting a head full of brown curls.
I gasped, assailed by a horrible new thought. Then, to my everlasting mortification, right there in the middle of a happy crowd of holiday shoppers, I burst into tears.
Chapter 9
Back at James’s apartment, seated on his comfortable overstuffed sofa between him and Devon, I reiterated for the umpteenth time that I was fine, maybe a little overtired was all, and possibly affected by the combination of Thomas and Laura’s baby news and the murders of Aunt Helen and Mason. That kind of emotional pendulum was enough to overwhelm anyone, right?
Only they weren’t buying it. James, even if he didn’t quite believe me, would probably have left it alone. He respected people’s privacy to a ridiculous extent (something I loved about him, even if I didn’t share the trait myself).
Devon, however, was another matter. I could tell by the dangerous combination of concern and curiosity in his lovely violet eyes that he wasn’t going to let it go. He was tucking one of Auntie Mo’s ugly afghans (a relic from her yarn phase—we all had them) around me in a mother hen-ish way so far from his usual sex-on-a-stick persona I almost couldn’t recognize him.
“It is a lot to take in all at once, I know,” he said gently. “James, why don’t you make your sister a drink? It’s cold out there—maybe a hot toddy?”
I sat bolt upright. “No! I don’t want a drink.”
Surprise and alarm flared on James’s face. Oblivious he might be, but even he knew I rarely
refused a drink at happy hour.
“It’s okay, sis. You can stay here tonight. I’ll call Mom and let her know. I’ll tell her we’re wrapping presents or something.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That would be great. Only do you maybe have some”—gak!—“herbal tea?”
James screwed up his brows, examining me with new interest, like I was one of his lab specimens. “Sure. Devon, could you see what we have? And start the kettle?”
Devon seemed reluctant to leave the room, but, after a pointed look from James, went to make my tea. James, once we were alone, took my hand awkwardly. Dealing with strong emotions wasn’t within his usual purview. We sat there for several minutes, being quiet. I’d chalk it up to sensitivity on James’s part, but I suspected it was more him trying to come up with a rational way of dealing with an obviously upset female.
Eventually he spoke, his voice calm. Soothing. Careful. “Ciel, what’s really wrong? We’re all upset about Aunt Helen and Mason—naturally so—but this is something more, isn’t it?”
It was the steady, concerned look on his face that did it. This was my reserved brother who always held himself in check, not only with me, but with the whole family. None of us doubted his love, but we all understood he wasn’t at his most comfortable displaying it overtly. He was more at home with the cut-and-dried, provable or disprovable aspects of scientific study. Facts were clean. Emotions were messy.
I tried to think of a good excuse. Even surreptitiously crossed the fingers of the hand he wasn’t holding, in case I had to outright lie. But when my mouth started moving, something even more horrifying than crying like a baby in front of all those strangers at the mall happened: I told him the truth.
“I’m afraid I might be pregnant and I don’t know who the father is, and what if it’s twins, and they’re both the father! Is that even possible? Because if it is, and I am, and they are—oh, God, I am so screwed!”
