Happily Ever Alpha: Until Midnight

by Gwendolyn Grace

  "Don't worry." I reached over and patted her hand. "It will all be okay. You'll see." I repeated the words she'd spoken to me years earlier.

  ****

  "So tell me something good that has happened to you." Carmen lifted her floppy sun hat and looked over at me.

  "What do you mean?" I sat up in my lounge chair and returned her gaze.

  "Tell me about something that has made you smile."

  "I don't know."

  "Carina, your son is safe and loved." She nodded to the pool. Ritchie was swimming with Bash's arms around his neck. "Very soon, you'll be mami loca again." She teased, reminding me of the nickname she and Ritchie had given me during a time when I'd been a little too obsessed with being the perfect mother. Bash was splashing and laughing. He was living in the only home he knew surrounded by people who loved him. The situation wasn't ideal by any means, but it wasn't bad. I looked up at the sky and thought about Carmen's question.

  "Something that has made me smile," I repeated, watching the clouds pass. The ice shifted in Carmen's glass as she sipped water and I was reminded of Brando's sketches. I looked down at my wrist. The lines of his name were barely there, but I could still see them. I ran my thumb over it and for the first time I allowed myself to talk about him.

  "There's this guy..." I paused and slid a sideways glance to gauge her reaction. Carmen set down her glass with a thunk, then curled her hand under her chin.

  "A guy? Go on." She leaned in excitedly, letting me know I had her full attention. I gave her the very edited version of how I met Brando, his nights at the restaurant, and the sketches—some of them I had brought with me.

  "He's good." She studied the drawing of me, her gaze shifting from me to the paper. "This kind of detail doesn't come from one night of staring at you." She twisted the paper around and squinted her eyes. "No, he has your face saved in his memory." Her words took me by surprise. My face had been stored in his memory? I'd never given much thought into how he'd been able to draw such an accurate image. I never once caught him looking at me.

  "Carina"—Carmen waved the drawing in front of her and quirked an eyebrow—"I think this is significant. There might be something here."

  "Yes, but it's not the right time. I have to think about what's best for Bash..." My voice trailed off; even I'd grown tired of my excuses. Carmen tossed the drawing aside.

  "You already know what's best for Bash. You. You are what's best." She sat up in the lounge chair and swung her legs to the floor. "How much longer are you willing to let Miguel intimidate you? Aren't you tired of being unhappy? I remember when he was a skinny kid who was afraid of spiders. Show him there is nothing scarier than a mama fighting for her baby. Don't let him control your future anymore. Take back your life, Carina." Carmen had a way of making me believe anything was possible. If she told me I could fly, I might have tried.

  "Okay." I reached over and squeezed her hand before offering encouraging words of my own. "You have to do the same. Talk to Ritchie." I shot a pointed look at her stomach. "A mama fighting for her baby, right?"

  Carmen gave me a soft smile and squeezed my hand in response.

  That night I retraced Brando's name on my wrist. The idea of it disappearing completely had terrified me. I realized then that I didn't want to run from him anymore.

  She was right. It was time for all of it to be over. I had to take back my life. I just needed to figure out how.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Brando

  I made the drive up the Silverwood. I wasn't a detective, but I knew how to find people. Madelyn had asked me to locate a guy in Guadalajara, Mexico. A private detective. I'd given him an address and asked him to gather some information about the people living there. He didn't need names. Two days later he emailed a large file. I didn't read it because it was none of my business.

  Madelyn looked over the report and didn't mask her surprise. She crumpled several papers in her hand and tossed them in the trash.

  "Damn him." She hissed under her breath, then turned her face away. Several moments later she stood from the antique chair in what she called the sitting room and reached for the crystal decanter on the wooden bar top. "Drink?" she asked, her back to me.

  "No," I replied, struggling to get to my feet after sitting in the low chair. I wasn't sure what reaction I'd expected, but something told me Madelyn wasn't happy with the news over her long-lost friend. "I'm going to leave."

  "You did good work." She lifted the glass to her lips, ignoring my attempt to exit. The smell of gin was unmistakable, though it wasn't the cheap stuff my mother drank. "I owe you something." She tapped a polished fingernail against her cheek. "Here's a freebie. Carina is in Mexico because her father lives there now. Apparently, he has gotten his maid pregnant." Her lip curled in disgust.

  "What? Carmen is pregnant?" Jamie asked as he entered the room. "How do you know that?" Madelyn didn't answer as she sipped her gin, then her gaze slid over me. Then it all clicked.

  "You had me find someone to spy on your ex-husband?"

  "Madelyn." Jamie frowned at his mother. "Please tell me that's not true."

  "James." She sighed. "Do you know I named you after my favorite uncle?" Her legs were a little unsteady as she resumed her pacing. "I had the perfect life. Perfect family. Perfect man. Handsome. Oh, he was so rich"—Madelyn gulped more gin—"and sexy, too."

  I was long past uncomfortable, but I didn't think I would be able to get out of there without making a sprint for the door.

  "Why don't you sit down, Madelyn." Jamie moved forward and grabbed her arm. "You can't keep spying on Dad like that. We've talked about this."

  "Oh, right." Madelyn gave an unladylike snort. "He's Dad and I'm Madelyn. He could never do wrong as far as both of you were concerned. I tried to be a good mother. I kept my mouth shut, shielded my children from his lies, and I still lost. Maggie was my best friend, you know."

  "I know. I know. Let's not get into that right now. You're making Brando uncomfortable."

  "No, he's here because of Carina." She narrowed her icy blue eyes on me. "The daughter who says terrible, nasty things to me. She calls me a thief, then moves two thousand miles away to live with her father. Who does she call when she gets in trouble? Her mother the thief."

  "It goes both ways. It's not all her fault."

  "Listen to my son. Forever defending his sister. He only sticks around here because he feels sorry for me. Otherwise, he would be in Mexico, too."

  "Not true," Jamie replied.

  "Carina was in trouble? What happened?" I asked, still stuck on that part of her rant. I really felt for Jamie. Madelyn was starting to sound a lot like my own mother.

  "Wouldn't you like to know." Madelyn grinned. "The fool," she added, then staggered slightly from the room.

  "Sorry about that." Jamie walked with me to the front door. "Every so often she gets a little obsessed with my dad. Maybe it's because he has moved on and she hasn't. Either way, don't do her any more favors."

  "You got it, man." I'd been awkwardly trapped in the middle of the airing of dirty laundry and I couldn't get out of that house fast enough.

  I left Silverwood with a lot more questions and very little answers. Talk about one crazy fucked up family.

  ****

  I spent hours on the Internet, searching for something. Anything to do with Carina. Madelyn said it would be there. I didn't know what to put in my search. I tried a combination of things. Searching a Mexican database was difficult, especially when I didn't speak Spanish.

  Then I came across a photo that nearly knocked the wind out of me. It was a mugshot of Carina. Her eyes were puffy and red as if she'd been crying. Then I went through database after database and couldn't figure out what crime she had been charged with. She had been in trouble with the law down there, and there was no way to tell if it had all been resolved. She could have even been in prison that very moment. My woman could be sitting in a Mexican jail cell as I sat there staring at her mug shot. Was that
what she didn't want me to know? She could have told me that on day one, and it wouldn't have made a difference. I would have still wanted her.

  I continued searching, obsessed with finding out more. At one point I even looked at flights to Guadalajara, the city where the mug shot had been listed. If I couldn't find her on the Internet, maybe I could go there and look for her. I noticed a news story on the second page of my search results. It was in Spanish, so I kept skipping over it. Finally, I copied the first paragraph into a translator.

  American wounded in shooting, five arrested.

  I repeated the headline over and over in my head. An American had been shot. An American? Shot? I continued translating the article. It mentioned the shooting occurred in Guadalajara. The date of the story had been almost a year old.

  Mexican officials arrested Miguel Leon-Martinez in connection with the shooting of two police officers...

  The story went on to outline that Leon-Martinez had been a known criminal and the shoot-out had been triggered by a dispute over territory with a rival gang. Two officers were wounded but not killed.

  The next line of the article was what threw me for a loop.

  An American woman believed to be the mother of Leon-Martinez's child was wounded and taken to the hospital for treatment.

  An American woman believed to be the mother of Leon-Martinez's child...? Mother of Leon-Martinez's child?

  I sat there trying to process it all. Carina had a scar on her thigh that could have been from a gunshot. The injury had healed as neat as could be expected. Possibly the result of having access to the best surgeons. Her family was rich.

  What I couldn't get my head around was the part about the child. Carina was a mother? Surely, she would have mentioned a kid. Why hide it? More importantly, why would she hide it from me? I couldn't wrap my mind around it all. Did Carina have a child with a Mexican gang member who almost killed two cops, and had she been shot in the shoot-out?

  A kid? Where was it? How old? A boy? A girl?

  Fuck. I needed a drink.

  ****

  I came awake with a start. The noise sounded again, and I realized it was the doorbell. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. My head pounded, reminding me I'd drunk a lot the night before. One of Todd's house parties had been in full effect. I remembered going out into the living room, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, and downing it. It wasn't the good stuff either, but it was all I could find. The kind I thought I'd sworn off for good. Oh, and Rosie was there.

  I was sitting on the edge of my bed rubbing my face when there was a knock on my bedroom door. I looked down, noticing I was only wearing my boxers. After grabbing a pair of basketball shorts from a pile on the floor, I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Carina was standing there in the hall looking nervous.

  "Hi," she said, with a shaky smile. "Todd let me in..." Her voice trailed off as she briefly lowered her eyes. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

  I was at a loss for words. After looking for her for an entire week, she found me.

  "Yeah," I said, finally finding my voice. "Come in." I opened the door and stepped aside. Though I was still half asleep and a little hungover, my body reacted to the sight of her. Carina stood in the middle of the floor as if she were trying to decide what to do with herself. "Here. Sit." I straightened out the comforter and patted a spot next to me, then I used my foot to close the laptop still open on the floor. She sat and turned to me.

  "I have something I want to tell you..." She stopped speaking when the bathroom door opened, and Rosie walked out rubbing her eyes, wearing one of my T-shirts. Carina and I both snapped our heads to look at her and then at each other. Rosie's groggy face transformed to a look of surprise. The three of us all looked around the room wide-eyed and confused as fuck. Carina was the first to snap out of it. She got to her feet and rushed to the door.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know..." She pulled the door open and ran down the hall.

  "Wait, this isn't...Carina!" I called after her, chasing her through the living room, through the front door, and down the sidewalk. Fuck, she was quick. If I hadn't had a woodpecker trying to punch a hole behind my eyes, I might have been able to catch up to her. I ran every day, for fuck's sake, but then there was the bright ass sun. "Carina! Stop!"

  She was gone by the time I'd been able to open my eyes again, using my hand to shield some of the brightness. I hurried back into the house for my phone to call her. At least I had her number. Todd emerged from his room with a toothbrush in his hand.

  "What?" he asked innocently around a mouthful of foamy toothpaste bubbles.

  "Shut the fuck up, Todd." I pointed at him as I rushed to my door. Rosie was still in my room but dressed in her clothes. "What the hell are you doing in here? Why were you wearing my shirt?" I roared, tossing clothes around as I tried to find my phone.

  "These jeans were way too tight to sleep in." She looked down at her outfit. "You were passed out, so I borrowed one of your shirts."

  "Why are you in my room?" I demanded, still not finding my phone.

  "Where else was I supposed to sleep?" she asked, having the nerve to look offended.

  "Where were you supposed to sleep?" I repeated. "Um, the couch, or even better, your own house." I was beyond angry. If Rosie had fucked things up for me with Carina, I didn't know what I would do.

  "You would have preferred I drive home drunk? Wow. You know what? I'm going to leave."

  "Good idea." I knew I was a total dick to her, but I didn't care. I was even madder at myself for letting it happen. I knew better when it came to Rosie.

  What if Carina never talked to me again?

  I'd realized over a bottle of cheap whiskey that none of it mattered—not the mug shot, Mexican gang member boyfriend...a kid. As long as she was free of Leon-Martinez, then I would find a way to handle it all.

  I loved her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Carina

  The journey home was just as exhausting. It was almost midnight by the time the ferry pulled into the harbor at Sea Whisper Island. Cora, the heat-packing cabbie, picked me up at the Charleston airport and brought me back to Key City.

  Leaving Sebastian was always hard, but it had been especially painful that last time. Carmen was able to distract him with the new box of Legos I'd brought with me. It seemed to do the trick. I just didn't know for how long.

  I made it from the ferry dock, down the boardwalk, past the statue of Captain Silvereye, and up the stairs of my apartment on sheer will. I was physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I'd fallen onto my bed and prayed for sleep to take me, except my brain was working overtime. I wondered if Nico had made any progress with the lawyer, so I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.

  Nico: Knee-high, you better be dying. Sophie just got the baby down, and you're cutting into my time.

  Me: Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Any word from that lawyer?

  Nico: Nothing yet but I know the guy. He'll come through.

  Me: Is he really that good of a lawyer?

  Nico: The best. Don't worry. I got you covered.

  I waited another minute before sending another text.

  Me: Nico? Sorry. I have one more question.

  Nico: Yes

  I could almost hear the growl on that word.

  Me: Explain to me that "Boom" thing again.

  ****

  The next morning I went to see Brando. I was ready to let him in.

  I knocked on the door, and Todd answered. He pointed to Brando's room when I asked if he was there.

  I steeled myself for what I was about to do, the things I had to confess. I didn't know how Brando would take it, but there was only one way to find out. It had been a week since I'd last seen him and the sight of him still took my breath away. His hair was a crazy mess, his face sleepy and eyes not yet alert. His inked chest was bare, and a pair of black shorts hung low on his hips. I couldn't get over how sexy he was. At first, he was surprised to see me, then pleased. I was relieved since I didn't
know what to expect after being gone so long. Most people didn't seem to notice when I left or returned.

  Then there was Rosie. It was completely unexpected. She was wearing a white T-shirt the same as me the night I stayed over. I was unprepared for how deeply it hurt to see her there. Had they slept together? Was that why there was something odd about Todd's expression? He knew. Why would he let me go back there like that? I ran like a deer in headlights, without thought or reason. My brain sent a signal to my feet to flee and off I went. Brando chased me, but there was no way I would have let him catch me. I didn't know what would happen next. I didn't think it was possible for my chest to ache any worse than it already had for the past year. I guess we learned something new every day.

  ****

  Later that night I went in for my shift at Catch. It had gotten slow after the dinner rush, so I slipped into the back office to research immigration law on the computer. It was almost impossible to get a straight answer. Most of the results were about people being deported from the U.S. back to Mexico. I must have been the only idiot who had managed to do the opposite. Most of my time was spent reading articles on child immigration and deportation. The stories were so heartbreaking that I found myself wiping away tears with the collar of my T-shirt.

  "Are you okay?" Jonna, the restaurant owner's daughter, asked from the doorway.

  "Yeah, erm." I swiped a hand over my eyes, probably smearing across my face what was left of my mascara. "Just one of those, erm, cute puppy videos." Jonna cocked her head to the side, her curly ash blond ponytail swishing along with her.

  "I never took you for a softy, Carina." She smirked, then narrowed her ice blue eyes. "Don't tell me you're pregnant, too?" She chuckled, then patted her tiny belly bump. "These hormones are a killer. I swear, as soon as Mama and Daddy return from their cruise, I'm quitting this job."

  "Jonna, you quit almost every time you work, then you still show up for your next shift," I said, closing down windows on the computer then clearing my search history.