South Beach

Chapter 52 - South Beach - Vanishing Point

2009-05-21T23:04:00.026-04:00

Woke up this morning
And got myself a gun...

...born under a bad sign
blue moon in my eyes

Alabama3
Woke Up This Morning (Chosen One Mix) by Alabama 3 on Grooveshark

South Beach – Stanfield Residence - 8 PM

Sometime between when he left and when he hit the overpass, taking the exit north, she hit him with something he already knew. Don't take the boxes? He was riding a bike, he wasn't carrying boxes, but it was all right, it was all good, she was good, he trusted her, the only person he trusted other than his wife, but what she was saying was a big load of stupid.

"I sent her email. You’re not going to like it but it’s done and it’s a better idea…”

Metro South – 9 PM

Always thinking she was one step ahead of him or maybe she worried she wasn't, either way, this time she wasn't. "Yeah, I know, done already. You didn't think I was going to hump all that shit over here....Beth...shut up and don't call...yeah I know but do not call me." Rafe hung up, parked his bike, uneasy, tired, stretching and trying to convince himself that this was going to work.

Was this even the right place? Rafe checked the address again. Right address but not what he expected. He thought he’d end up at the wharf, not faced with some damned mansion. As he approached the front door he saw a curtain twitch up on the third floor – someone watching him. He took a deep breath and kept on going.

He started to knock on the door, not even sure which door to knock on, stopped, looking through the sidelights at some guy, a total geek, who walked towards him.

The total geek - on second glance, not so geeky after all - pushed through the door and rounded on him with a deep and hard voice. “If you’re packing anything, you’re dead. She’s expecting you. Go in and go up to the third floor and don’t fucking look around on your way up.”

She? That took him aback, and it was hard not to take a look at anything at all…looked like they were moving…nothing here but a pile of boxes, a chair, a gun on the box beside the chair. Not that he was looking at it.

Three stories up, he stopped. A woman played a piano, Debussy's Clair de Lune, a long lovely elegant romantic and accomplished and very personal interpretation. It was impressive. And he recognized her.

The woman at his mother’s house. The Ivory Soap woman. No…not possible…all that detail from Gabe and he had never mentioned this woman…had he known? This was the source? The woman who had taken out Gabe. And the woman behind his mother’s power? No way Gabe would have known. Gabe would have jumped all over her...all right maybe not but he would have tried.

“Hello Rafe." She slid off the piano bench, looking up at him. “You are on time.”

The room, the carpet, the curtains, the whole damned place took him back. It was like his mother's house, and the memory ripped through him, shaking him. Rafe fought it, focusing. Yeah, he was right on time. He’d gotten that much right. The rest of it though…he’d anticipated a lot of scenarios but nothing that included this woman.

“Don’t tell me you are speechless." She stood up. She laughed. "You really did not know who I was? I am surprised. But I appreciated the email – we do need to talk but that was well done. Excellent. Is she a girlfriend? You have girlfriends?”

Girlfriends…he knew sending the email like that was going to cause problems… He had no idea what this woman wanted, where she was going with this, and didn’t intend to go running down the same road along with her. Rafe leaned toward her, deeply and thoroughly uneasy and hoping it didn’t show, his voice low and quiet. “Glad you appreciated it. There’s more. You want to talk about it?”

She smiled, walked across the room and sat down in a chair and looked at him. He drew a deep breath, looked past her out at the city, ordered himself to focus – she’s a woman. Damned fucking dangerous woman, but a woman. Go for it.

And as soon as he got close enough to her, she curled up on the chair, looked up at him and continued, “Half of it is what I got Rafe? Can you tell me what is in the other half?”

He settled on the sofa and took his time, continuing to watch her. Let her breathe for a minute. Watching her watch him. Rafe moved, stretching one arm, shifting his legs, still watching her. This one was nothing like any woman he’d ever gone up against. Stop thinking about her as a woman then…think of her as a female version of Gabe. He leveled his eyes on her, locking them. “You’ll have all of it, hardcopy, everything, once I get a guarantee from you that I’m out of it. I have copies of everything, and all of it, every single damned bit of it, will go out if anything happens to me or anyone in my family. I want a guarantee.”

“I am not ebay,” she shot back at him, and, finally, the accent came through. Russian. She had dropped her guard. “I do not give guarantees. But I will tell you this. You give me what you have and we are done. I have no interest in you. I have no interest in your girlfriend or your wife or your children. None. You do understand my intentions for Eden – you do not call me to ask what happened to her. And I will not call you. Are we clear on this?”

Rafe eased back against the couch. Was he really sitting here discussing this? Yeah lady, I'm here talking about killing my mother. Don’t choke now. “Very clear. We are more than clear about this. I appreciate an honest woman.”

And she laughed and slid one long leg over the other, leaning forward towards him. “Do you? I think you do. I saw that in you, with your mother. My god I do not know how a woman like that had children. But you know, I’m not as old as your mother. That’s for another time maybe. You need to go.”

Rafe walked toward the stairwell, feeling her eyes on him every step of the way, wanting to run down and get the hell out here alive to hell with his mother. The Heidi woman followed him and watched him and smiled and something about it made him remember Cam. Forget her. He couldn't. He stalled, looked at her, cleared his throat, touched his wedding ring like a magic charm and went for it. “Gabe,” he began, trying to figure out a way to put it, “there’s a girl who’s interested in what happened to him. Is there anything I can tell her?”

She tapped her fingernails against her upper arm, a pause so brief, a heartbeat, no longer, but it was there.

“Tell her,” she said softly, looking into his eyes, “that he will not call.”

South Beach – Oceanfront – 10 PM

Halfway home, Rafe abruptly wheeled his bike off the coast road onto a stretch of flat and rocky sand. He’d been here before but it wasn’t the kind of place he frequented now – the beach dropped off precipitously into a deserted cove. Private. No view from the road at all.

He cut off the engine, pocketed the keys, and started down the hill, checking first to make sure he’d be alone. And, mercifully, he was.

Strange, standing here, moving right into the waves, listening to the deep quiet, soft hush of water against the sand and rock, he was less concerned about his mother’s fate than that of his cousin.

Grabbing a pebble, Rafe hurled it into the surf, watched it sink, watched the waves rise and pound and retreat and pound again. Gabe. Damn him. What was he supposed to think or feel about him now?

He would never be able to think of his cousin as any kind of hero. Anyone who made that mistake was an idiot, a tool, a passenger on Gabe's train wreck to hell. Here's your ticket; enjoy your ride on the fuck you express. Stop by the gift shop on the way out for a full color photo of Gabe giving you the finger.

Except at some point the conductor got off. All those years Gabe had plotted and schemed against him, copied him, trying to be something he wasn’t. Trying to be me. I’m the man Gabe wanted to be.

Why? Who the hell knew. If Cam knew, she never said. If his father knew, he was past believing anything he said. But what Gabe had done this time, finally, this time, went a long way toward redeeming him. Too late. Probably too late. Rafe thought about the woman’s hesitation when he had asked about his cousin, and smiled. Maybe not too late.

“Thanks, Gabe.” Rafe turned into the night and the wind, letting them hit him, cold and hard. “Where ever you are…thanks.”

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Thus ends South Beach. Thanks to everybody who has read through it.

Chapter 51 - South Beach - Hot Afternoon, Temperature Falling

2009-05-19T06:05:00.042-04:00

South Beach – Oceanside Boardwalk, 4 PM

The heat rose up in waves as Rafe strode down the sidewalk toward the unmarked shop. It blurred the horizon, burned through the soles of his sneakers, and left patches of sweat under his arms. High summer in South Beach. Hot as hell. Beaches packed, every bar crowded, heat…

It was, ultimately, his element. Ride the heat. Use the heat.

He paused next to a fountain, letting the breeze from the ocean blow the water across his bare arms. He’d asked a favor, received it, and now that he was here to collect, wasn’t at all certain it had been the right thing to do.

Too late to have second thoughts now, he told himself, pushing open the door into the unmarked shop. It was almost empty – a desk, a copier in the corner, the boxes on the floor next to a window, and Beth standing there waiting for him and looking none too thrilled about it.

“Hi,” Rafe greeted her, entering into the stiflingly hot room. “Did you get it done?”

“Of course I got it done,” she retorted. “It’s all scanned and copied and packed and locked in a safe. I put the originals back in the boxes and taped them up. And you’re about an hour late. Do you need any help getting them to your car? I really want to get out of here.”

Rafe had not paid much attention to the place when he’d dropped them off. Nothing here but some family portraits on the wall – she’d told him she hadn’t opened yet though. Cooper. Ninety percent Cooper and ten percent everybody else in Cooper’s life. He drew a breath and shrugged it off. Past time for him to let her deal with Cooper by herself. “Sorry, I got held up in beach traffic. It’s summer,” he reminded her, realized that wasn’t a great move - she knew the beach as well as he did, probably better - then added, changing the subject, “Did you read it?”

“No Rafe,” Beth snapped. Her tanned skin was gleaming with perspiration and she was obviously irritated and uncomfortable. “I closed my eyes the whole time I was scanning and copying them. Of course I read it. Some of it. Ok most of it. And if you want to talk about it, let’s go outside. I don’t even have AC in here yet and it’s hot.”

They walked together out onto the boardwalk where Beth paused, gazing down at the ocean and the long stretch of dunes and beach curving to the northeast. Just to the west was Tony’s place. On the other side of those rocks – Camilla. Further west – Ryan, someone she couldn’t even allow herself to think about, not even a stray thought. Far to the north, way beyond sight on the other side of the bay, the house she shared with Cooper. A beautiful landscape under constant threat of storms.

“A lot of history out there,” Rafe commented quietly.

“Everybody has history,” she replied, turning away from the view. “It’s not important.”

Rafe paused briefly, then pressed, “Beth, I want to know what you think. You’ve stood by me a long time, and you didn’t have any reason to do that. My family’s been nothing but trouble for you – Tony, Gabe, Cam and her attitude about you, and I haven’t been much better. What the hell should I do?”

He didn’t know the half of it, Beth thought wryly. Shove Gen and Marc in there and label it Beth’s Really Bad Party Mix. She sighed, watching him – it wasn’t Rafe’s fault though. And he had taken a lot of heat for simply trying to look out for her; everyone thinking he was getting into Coop’s business, Gabe sniping at him, Tony probably pissed at him for staying in touch.

“Rafe,” she began carefully, determined not to tell him what she really thought - take out that bitch mother and do it now, “I don't know what to say and I can't tell you what to do. Sometimes I don't see things clearly. But I think you know what to do. Do what you need to do.”

He grumbled something inaudible and turned away from the oceanfront. Beth thought about it, watching him. There was something more she could do, a detail she was certain he had missed, almost certain, pretty certain. Certain enough to do it and let it fly because she was sure it would work. But not certain enough to tell him about it. Hauling boxes of papers all over the place was not the best way to deal with this when there was an alternative. Even though it would mean doing something he probably wouldn’t like, and she wasn’t absolutely positive…but when in life do you ever have the luxury of being absolutely positive about anything?

Rafe turned back to her, searching her face. “If I could have kept this in the family, I would have done it. You need to stay out of it from here on. Thanks for copying everything.”

Beth pulled him into a hug, trying to ignore her own misgivings and she had plenty of them. This was yet another secret she had to keep from Cooper; Gabe was involved and that was always bad; and she worried about what this was going to do to Rafe, if he did what she thought he was going to do, even if he got through it alive. Let it go, she told herself firmly. Deal with it later. His body was hot. Hers was too – she felt like she stuck to him – and that drew her somewhere else entirely, someplace and somebody else. She wanted to go home. She wanted Cooper.

“Trust your instincts,” she murmured against his broad shoulder. “And Rafe,” she added fiercely, “Go get her.”

South Beach – Taylor Residence; 6 PM

Long shadows had begun to track across the road and the driveway by the time Rafe reached his mother and stepfather’s house. According to the social secretary, his mother was “at home” but “unavailable”. He’d stashed the boxes back at his house, picked up his bike, and drove out to what had to be the very farthest northern border of South Beach. So far north, he wondered, as he strode toward the door, if they were even in the same zip code out here.

Rafe hesitated at the security panel, checked the code he’d written on the inside of his palm, and punched in the numbers. Gabe might be an asshole, but he remembered and had included every damned detail...including the security code to his mother’s house. And so far, he’d gotten every detail right.

He knew the way. Leaping up the stairs, hoping he didn’t run into the social secretary herself or any other household help, Rafe went right up to the deck where his mother usually entertained – at least in this house she did. And there she was, on the other side of the fish pond or whatever that thing was, chatting it up with another woman.

He steadied himself. It had been years since he had seen her – back in college. He’d had his father there for moral support, and still it had taken everything he had to force himself to walk through the door. Funny thing, maybe it was an illusion, but she looked smaller now. Diminished by distance. No longer the terrifying figure that had loomed in nightmares for so long. Don’t underestimate her, Rafe warned himself. Whatever you do, don’t do that.

He was halfway across the deck before she saw him. Eden broke off her conversation, turned in her chair and glared at him. She certainly didn’t look her age – botox or work or both, venom bottled for perpetuity. "Who let you in?” she demanded.

The blonde who was sitting with her got up and looked in his direction. Whoever she was, his mother pulled in her tongue and made a pretty face. Someone with money, or power, or both.

“Ivory Galipova,” the blonde introduced herself, reaching for his hand.

Rafe tried to size her up, but he got nothing from her. No heat, no interest, no attitude, no accent, no perfume, nothing. Bland. Ivory Soap. “Rafe Taylor,” he responded, briefly returning the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you. “Yes,” she replied. Quiet blue Heidi eyes, but they twinkled for a split second. “I believe we’re finished here. I’m on my way out.”

He watched her walk away, still curious, looking over his mother’s shoulder, as Eden started in on him. “Do you have any idea what you interrupted? Of course you don't - between you and your useless father, and I understand he's gone back to that whore - you've interfered in an important meeting. If you want to see me, and I cannot imagine why you think I would be interested in seeing you, you certainly should know by now that you have to get on my calendar."

Same thing, always the same thing. The woman never even updated her attack, right down to the old rant about Tony and MJ. It was incredible. Rafe pushed past her, meeting her eyes, deliberately bumping into her shoulder as he walked by. Was it going to be this easy?

Rafe stopped, turned his back to the glass rail, propped one foot against it, which seemed to infuriate his mother even more – goddamn; footprints on the glass – and watched her. He stopped listening. It was noise, nothing more than noise. He toyed with his wedding ring, turning it, leaning hard on that slim silver band, and let his mother continue to try to slice off his balls with her voice. It didn’t work anymore.

“By the way,” he finally broke in, tiring of it and he did have another stop to make, "I know what you've been doing. The political contributions and where they came from. What you've done in return. What you plan to do. Turning it right back at the Senator, righteous Eden rooting out evil. Taking him down and taking his place and going right on up from there. It’s good. Even for you, it’s good. You covered it all – money, power and a great game. I know it and I've got proof."

She definitely hadn’t anticipated anything like that because she shut up fast. Rafe walked away from her again – standing that close to her still bothered him. He walked to the end of the deck and looked down. Pool. Chairs. Some kind of umbrella. Past them, a dozen palms and he didn't know the names of any of them. Past that, the tall and unyielding shoulder of the mountain ridge between South Beach and the towns that stretched out to the north. Millwood. Rockwood. The university where he'd crashed and burned trying to build a wall between him and the bitch who had borne him. What do you take from your parents? What do you throw away? What do you keep? Why didn’t she realize that eventually, since he was definitely her son, he would turn around and bite her as hard as she had bitten him?

Eden stood there, staring at him – he could feel it. Come on, he thought, come back at me. Try to find the choke chain. Yank it. Something inside him…he almost hoped she wouldn't.

"You idiot," Eden hissed. "You think you can threaten me? You have no idea what you're dealing with! I’ll take you down and your family with you!”

Every kind of crazy thing flooded his mind - his children and Gayl and he hesitated. Could she...yeah she could. I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too. It snapped into place, all of it. He knew her. And he knew himself.

“Rafe!” she screamed. “You do not walk out on me!”

He shook his head, laughed, and kept on going. Decision made, done. He had an appointment to keep. The poem running through his head. Definitely an appointment to keep. And miles to go, miles to go before he could sleep.

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach 52

Chapter 50 - South Beach - Rafe Opens a Gift

2009-05-06T22:53:00.004-04:00

Bay View – Taylor Residence 7 AM

Rafe drank, gulping coffee hot enough to scald his tongue, while he looked through the steam at the waves and the blurry blue line of the horizon.

He set the cup down on the deck railing. Scratched one bare foot with the other and thought about the boxes he’d hauled upstairs and shoved into a corner.

A present from Gabe. What kind of idiot did his cousin think he was? Last heroic gesture before Gabe ran off, if he got the chance to run off. The kind of last gesture the Greeks left for the Trojans. No thank you.

The door into the kitchen swung open. With an enormous sense of relief, Rafe watched his wife walk through the door, across the deck to him. She knew. She'd known last night. She knew what he'd never told anyone else. Gayl walked up and asked him, “What are you going to do?”

What was he going to do. Use what Gabe gave him? He hated his mother, knew Gayl probably hated her more than he did, if that was possible. And it probably was possible. However, nothing from Gabe ever came without a bang and an explosion. “I don’t know. Take the boxes down to the beach and burn them.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and they stood there in the early light for a long time. He held on, trying not to think about his mother, about Gabe, doing nothing but holding on. “Rafe,” she said quietly, “what if it’s real?”

He stepped back. Real…in what world was anything Gabe came up with real... “And what if it’s not?”

“How long,” Gayl pressed, quiet, “has it been since you spoke with your mother?”

How long had it been…but he’d made peace with his father. Was there any possibility he could do the same with his mother? Rafe swallowed. The coffee’s aftertaste was bitter. No fucking way would he do a single damned thing for his mother. Never.

“I’ll talk to Camilla,” he told his wife. “I can take it that far before I make a decision.”

South Beach – Camilla’s Residence; 10 AM

Rafe parked his bike in front of Camilla’s house and stood on the sidewalk studying the strange car in the drive. She hadn’t said anything about having company when he’d asked her if he could drop by and talk. Probably just some guy she’d picked up last night, he thought, but she’d have to get rid of him.

“Hi,” Camilla greeted him absently, “come on in do you want some breakfast because I was just going to make some.”

He followed her, at least she was dressed, shorts pulled on over a swim suit, strode past the staircase and looked down the room into the kitchen and directly into Heydon Mitchell’s curious gaze.

Surprised, Rafe hesitated. What the hell was he doing here? It was late enough to be brunch instead of breakfast, but the implication was unavoidable. It was not his business, but if the man wanted a quick lay, there had to be better, quieter ways to go about it. He was in middle of a divorce, and Cam had a high profile.

“Good morning,” Rafe cautiously said to Heydon. He considered the chair, then decided not to sit down. This was not a social call. “Camilla didn’t mention you were here.”

Heydon didn’t seem at all uncomfortable about it. “Just dropped by a few minutes ago.”

“So what did you want to talk about?” Camilla asked, smiling. Both of them looked extremely pleased with the whole situation, whatever it actually was.

“Gabe,” Rafe told her flatly, but he directed the response to both of them. Heydon should be able to pick up the inference; he knew Gabe. This was a private conversation.

The room got very quiet. Heydon stared at him. Camilla looked at Heydon, then at Rafe. “Then we’d better go outside. Heydon you don’t have to leave because this isn’t going to take long.” She directed a sharp glance at Rafe. “It isn’t going to take long is it Rafe because I don’t have anything to say about Gabe.”

Rafe stepped out onto the patio, briefly exchanging a look with Heydon, who had turned in his chair and met his gaze. Was the man going to get protective about Cam? That would probably be a first for her.

Camilla grabbed his arm then let go but she was tight, tighter than she’d let Heydon know, agitated. “What’s going on have you heard from Gabe?”

Trying to keep his voice low, uncomfortably aware of Heydon sitting in the room behind them, Rafe replied, “He sent me a package, several packages, reams of material about my mother. You what he was hunting. I want to know what you know about it, and I don’t intend to discuss it within earshot of Mitchell.”

She turned away from him and started for the steps down to the beach without saying a word. Was she going to blow him off? “Camilla!”

He followed her down to the little beach behind her house and stood over her, angry, but trying to deal with it. Gabe and Cam. He had to back off. Camilla perched on a rock, rested her hands easily on those long tanned legs and gazed up at him silently. “You know,” Rafe began again, “if you don’t want to get involved in this, I get it. But I need to know what you know. You know what he sent me.”

Camilla glanced away. The stiff breeze blew strands of black hair across her cheeks. “You don’t understand,” she finally replied. “He knew he wasn’t going to make it and I guess the last thing he did was send all that stuff to you. The very last thing.”

“I think I figured out that part, Cam.” Rafe shifted his weight, tried to soften his tone. He couldn’t summon up any regrets about Gabe finally dropping off the face of the earth, but Camilla obviously cared. “All I want to know is if the last gift was a last gift and not Gabe’s last joke at my expense. If you have any insight, I’d appreciate it if you shared it with me.”

She sighed, looked past him back at the house, then unexpectedly asked, “What do you know about the Oracle of Delphi?”

Stunned that she could even come up with the reference, Rafe retorted, “If you’re referring to the shrine to Apollo and not a shoe store…all right, either way I don’t know what that has to do with Gabe or my mother.”

Camilla hesitated, looked down then directly up at him. “It’s not Gabe’s motives you need to worry about. It was a gift. It’s always dangerous to accept gifts you don’t understand and this one…Rafe it’s your mother and you know what’s going to happen to her if you take it and use it. You may not ever understand Gabe. But before you act on it, you need to know yourself.”

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach 51

Chapter 49 - South Beach - Packages Delivered

2009-04-04T13:53:00.011-04:00

Downtown - North Metro

Gabe strapped up the boxes, hauled them down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk where he stood over them for a moment, mentally reviewing what he’d packed. This was everything. Documents. Contacts. Everything important.

He kneeled down and inspected the tape one more time; he’d run short and had been forced to skimp, but they looked all right. His last kiss, killer kiss, best damned kiss he'd ever delivered. Pretty damned fucking funny if you didn't look at it too closely. Whether his cousin was up to taking it further… nothing he could do about that.

He dumped them off in Chang’s along with the rest of the shit going out in the mail tomorrow, mixing them up, and headed down the sidewalk toward the rear of the building. The back entrance was safer. Should he have sent them? The man had a family and that bitch had a mean bite. She bit him first, Gabe reminded himself, and he can bite back. If anyone in the family could do it, would do it, it would be his cousin. May as well try to take her down; he had never wasted opportunities, and there was no reason to start now.

The alley behind the restaurant was narrow and dimly lit but so far it had been safe. Rounding the corner, thinking about his next move, whether he should get out tonight or if he could wait until tomorrow morning, Gabe looked past the line of trashcans and saw him. No, tomorrow morning was going to be too late. From behind the broken palette, he said smoothly, “Hello, Gabe.”

Gabe glanced at the dumpster. He would probably be occupying it in the next few minutes, but he took a long look at the man, recognizing him. They'd outsourced the problem. This one wasn't local. And might not know what he was dealing with - always a chance to pull it out and he wasn't giving up. He had an advantage here, already saw it. He strode casually past the dumpster, boots crunching on broken glass, shifted his weight to his right leg, and smiled. “Took you long enough – good thing I waited up for you.”

University – Stanfield and Mitchell Residence

Rafe waited a week after he got the call from Jason Mitchell, a call he didn’t understand and had been inclined to ignore. He was busy; Marc was Tony’s problem, not his; and nothing about the situation seemed urgent. Only a distant and uneasy memory finally got him out there. This time he drove Gayl’s car – if he did end up taking Marc somewhere, he wasn’t going to attempt to do it with his bike.

Big place, he thought idly, strolling past three levels of dark stone and glass. He could see guitars and amps lying around a room on the second floor and wondered if Stanfield would build his kid a stage and an arena if he wanted one.

Jason and Jett Mitchell were waiting for him next to the front door, and before he had a chance to even ask what was going on, they started in on him. Both of them. At the same time. “Thanks for coming,” Jett began, “you know something’s wrong with your brother. Man something is seriously wrong with him.” “You need to do something about Marc,” Jason interrupted. “My girlfriend can’t go out of the damned house! He’s fucking crazy! He’s dangerous!”

Eying both of them, silent, Rafe wondered whether this was really about some girl they both wanted. If they’d dragged him all the way out here to get in the middle of something like that… “I don’t want to talk about it out here,” he told them flatly. “You can explain inside.”

They both got quiet immediately, opened the door and trailed after him down a short foyer and into a wide living area overlooking a park to the rear. More guitars, Rafe noted, and, staring at two girls on the sofa, his cousin Kestral. This was the girlfriend? Jason had flown her out for that last Mercury Rising performance, so it made sense. Uneasy, he started to remember Marc’s strange phone call about Kestral and her brother. Maybe there was something wrong.

Cooper’s sister Ericca leaped off the couch and started right into it. “Marc got sacked 10 times last week and 6 times the week before! He has a concussion! He’s not dangerous!” Rafe tried to tune her out, turning to Kestral. “Kes, can you tell me what’s going on?” “Have you seen his place?” Jett challenged, standing behind him but evidently talking to Ericca. “He’s got everything going but the tinfoil hat!”

Jason stepped past Kestral, who so far hadn’t said a word, and got up next to Ericca. “A concussion? There’s more going on than a concussion and you know it! You shouldn’t be hanging out there with that guy by yourself, E!” “Yeah, he might think you want to eat his brain,” Jett added. Frustrated, Rafe tried again. “Kes?” She cast an unhappy look at Ericca and in a very quiet voice responded, “Maybe it is a concussion, but something is wrong. He acts like he’s scared.”

“He’s not scared!” Ericca insisted. “He got hurt and he didn’t take care of himself!” “Then let Rafe take care of him!” Jason shouted. “Yeah,” Jett chimed in. “Before he goes after someone who takes care of the problem for him.” Kestral didn’t say another word.

“All right,” Rafe broke in, wondering how they ever managed to solve anything. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Relieved just to get out of there, Rafe walked with Jason down to the curb. Wyatt strolled up, nodded briefly as he walked by. Rafe looked at him but his attention was focused now. Out of the lot of them, Jason was the one Rafe trusted to use some damned common sense.

“He’s really that bad?” he asked. “He really is,” Jason assured him quietly. “Go find out for yourself.”

University – Marc’s Residence

As soon as Rafe pulled up at Marc’s rental and carefully walked through unlocked doors, calling his name, he saw it. The furniture was gone. An old TV aerial in the foyer and a ladder...a ladder? What the hell? “Marc?” he called out.

The smell caught him by the throat. Trash. And more than trash. Was that urine he smelled? The old memory pressed him harder.

“Marc?” he repeated uneasily. His brother was stretched out on an old sofa staring intently at a TV with no picture.

When Marc still didn’t respond, Rafe planted himself between his brother and the TV, stared down at him intently and demanded, “Look at me! What the hell is going on?”

Marc stirred and struggled to sit up. Rafe had anticipated too much alcohol, partying gone too far, something he could easily deal with. Not this. He tried to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench, not successfully, and wondered how Cooper Stanfield’s sister had forced herself to even walk into this pit. “Rafe?” Marc responded. “How did you get here?”

Jesus, Rafe thought, horrified. He dragged his hand through his hair – what was he supposed to do with this? “In a car, Marc. Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

His brother got to his feet. Standing in the light, he looked even worse. Deep shadows under his eyes, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in a week. “Do you hear that?” Marc looked over his shoulder back toward the front door. “I put something over there to keep them out, but they still get in.”

The crash. Rafe turned away, overwhelmed with the memory. He’d fallen hard, so hard and so fast and so far he would not have made it if Gayl hadn’t hauled him out, hallucinations, everything, but it had been his mother haunting him, not things he could have blocked out with an old TV aerial. The smell. It was the same smell. It rose up in his throat and stung his eyes. “Don’t you hear them?” Marc shouted.

He drew a deep, shaking breath, turned and gripped Marc’s shoulders firmly. “I’ve heard them, Marc. But I don’t anymore. We’re getting out of here. I’m taking you away from this.”

Marc searched his face, and he seemed calmer. Maybe the acknowledgement that whatever was after him, he wasn’t alone with it. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” Rafe told him gently. “We’re going home.”

Bay View – Tony’s residence

“You should have called me. You never did let me help you. But thanks for bringing him here, Rafe. I’ll get him away from here for a while and get some help for him.”

Rafe stood outside his father’s house in Bay View, breathing in the scent of grass and Oleander, the sunlight warm on his bare arms. He hadn’t spoken to Tony in a long time, although he knew his father had been over to the house to see Nic and Randi, just not when he was there. Maybe it was time to give all that up. “I know I didn’t,” he admitted. “And this is the right place for him. He needs the help. I needed it.”

Rafe looked past Tony at Marc, who was walking into the house with MJ. MJ?

“MJ’s here?” he remarked. It was sure no secret that MJ had hung in there, always, through two wives and the whole deal with Beth and she was still here. Still Tony’s girl. Looking pretty good too.

“People do change,” Tony replied obliquely, watching his son and the tall redhead enter the house. “Or change their minds.”

“Yeah…she never changed hers though.” He smiled. “Good luck with that. You deserve it, Dad. A little luck.”

Bay View – Taylor Residence

“How is he?” Gayl asked softly.

Rafe sighed. “Not good. It brought back…bad memories I guess. I got him out of there and took him to Tony. He’ll take care of him. My father’s good at that if you give him a chance.”

“Some packages arrived for you today,” she told him as they walked into the house. “I didn’t recognize the return address.”

He wanted a shower and some time alone with her, but that was strange. “I didn’t order anything. Maybe it’s a mistake.”

Rafe gave the boxes a cursory glance, then froze. The return address; he didn’t even read the return address. He didn’t have to. Scrawled across what was undoubtedly a bogus address was a set of familiar initials written in a long, bold hand in heavy black ink. GL.

Gabe.

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach 50

Chapter 48 - South Beach - Jason and Jett and the Problem

2009-03-28T01:38:00.005-04:00

University -- Brickhouse Coffee Shop

Another late spring thunderstorm had moved in, dark clouds racing in from the west. Pausing under the awning outside the coffee shop, Jason glanced up at the place, then laughed. “You’re going to ask the Brickhouse Blonde about a job? She only hires ugly chicks, Kes. Everybody knows that.”

Kestral had never paid any attention to who worked here, trolls or supermodels. “I can cook. It shouldn’t matter what I look like. And she dated Colin for a while so I know her. I have to try. I have to get a job.”

“I told you not to worry about the money. I can ask my parents for help if we need it.” Just the impression she wanted to make, Kestral thought dryly; girlfriend needing handout. She may as well slap a GOLDDIGGER sticker across her forehead. She started inside and paused briefly to look at a couple seated on the outside deck.

That strange guy Marc, Rafe’s half brother, chatting with Ericca Stanfield. Marc looked tense and irritable and uneasy. But every time she had ever seen him he looked tense and irritable so that was nothing new.

Taking a deep breath – she really didn’t know Lauren very well – Kestral left Jason sitting at one of the café tables and approached the tall blonde at the other end of the room.

“Hi Kes,” Lauren greeted her with a perfunctory hug, which Kestral uncomfortably returned. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Did you think about what I mentioned on the phone?” Kestral asked. “I can bake anything you want. I can make coffee. I need a job.”
Lauren paused, glancing over her shoulder at Jason, then shook her head. “It’s not a good fit, Kes. This isn’t real baking. The food comes already prepared. You’d have no creative input at all. If you’re going to waste your time, you can find something that pays better than this place.”

Stunned, Kestral stepped back, trying to come up with an argument, but she had never been good at interviews or negotiating or anything useful. A wave of regret hit her; maybe she should have gone with Colin. Lauren still didn’t even look directly at her. She was looking at Jason. “If you really need a job, you’ll make a lot more at one of the clubs. You’re pretty – you’d make more in one night than you’d make here in a month.”

She swallowed hard, and said, “Thanks but I don’t think I – “

Behind her, a deep male voice suddenly demanded, “What the hell are you looking at? You have something to say to me?” Kestral turned, off balance and bewildered. A chair slammed against a table. The door flew open. Jason had jumped out of the chair, yelling something at Marc. And behind him, Ericca was running through the door shouting something like stop stop. Lauren murmured, “What on earth…”

Lauren took a step back, staring at Marc, narrow eyed. Faced with what seemed like total lunacy, Kestral stammered, “Excuse me?”

“You have something to say to me, say it to my face!” Marc was yelling, close up, large and intimidating. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Marc what are you doing!” Ericca called out. “Please stop it!”
“He’s going to stop it all right!” Jason cut in.

Jason stepped between her and Marc, snarling, “Look asshole, leave her the hell alone! Go chase aliens someplace else! Go on, Kes, get out of here, I’ll be right there.” Marc glared at him, fists clenched, but confusion flickered across his face and he didn’t respond.

Approaching from behind, Ericca put one hand on his arm and turned him, firmly, to face her. “Marc, look at me. Listen to me. Everything’s ok. We should go…come on, let’s just go back to my place and you can rest for a while.”

Jason started for the door, following Kestral out of the place, but he shot Marc a hard glare as he passed the couple. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you stay away from her,” he warned.

“It’ll be all right,” Ericca intervened in an even, steady voice. “Just go.”

Kestral felt Jason touch her back. “Keep going,” he told her quietly. “Don’t look back at them.”

“What is the matter with him?” Shaking, frightened, Jason’s hand still firm on the small of her back, Kestral could hear Ericca continue to try to talk to Marc. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore.

“My best guess is he’s fucking insane.”

University - Stanfield and Mitchell Residence

Still shaken, Kestral stopped outside the door to Jason’s house, saw Jett walking around inside. She didn’t want to go, but neither did she want to talk to Jett. And she needed to think, not only about Marc, but about another option for a job. Which she didn’t have. “Jason, I think I’ll go home. I can cut through the park.”

“No way,” he told her flatly. “You’re not going anywhere right now. You don’t even have a dead bolt on the door in that place you’re moving into. That son of a bitch could be waiting there.”

She cast a glance up at the towering house, uneasy. “I can’t stay here.”

“We’re going to talk about that,” he responded, and turned away from her. “Come on inside.” He shoved open the doors, striding directly toward his brother who had come into the foyer and stood there with his arms folded, watching them curiously.

“Listen,” Jason told Kes softly, “go wait for me in the living room, will you Bird? I need to talk to Jett for a few minutes.”

“We have Animal Planet,” Jett offered helpfully, uncertain what was up. “You could watch that.”

“Animal Planet?” Jason muttered. “Sometimes you’re an idiot, Jett.”

“Yeah, probably should have mentioned Food Network. What’s going on?” Jett asked quietly, watching Kestral walk around the divider into the living room.

“Not here,” Jason told him. “Outside.”

Jason slid the patio door shut and turned to his brother, who stood there, waiting, thumbs hooked into his jeans. “That crazy fucker Marc tore into Kes at the damned Brickhouse,” Jason explained tensely. “Crawled all over her screaming she was looking at him or talking about him. He’s always been weird but he’s gone over the edge now. I can’t let her go home while he’s out there!”

Jett glanced past him. Kestral was stretched out on the sofa in the living room like she was watching TV, but the set was dark. “Let her stay here then, if she’ll agree to it. But that’s not going to solve the problem. You can’t keep her locked up in the house.”

“I know that,” Jason snapped. “I need a way to get him out of here. Ericca can’t control him. And I don’t know his dad.”

“We know someone who can take care of it,” Jett grinned. “Marc’s big brother…”

A slow smile spread over Jason’s face. “Rafe.”

The door behind them opened and Wyatt stepped out onto the patio. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asked. “Why’re you out here while Kes is lying on the couch?”

“We’re dealing with a problem,” Jason responded, smiling at his brother.

“Just dealt with it. One four letter word solution. Rafe.”

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach 49

Chapter 47 - South Beach - Kestral Has a Dream and Talks to Wyatt

2009-03-27T09:17:00.004-04:00

University - Stanfield and Mitchell Residence

She was falling, wings failing, wind ripping first the coverts, then the primary feathers. Losing lift, no longer able to thrust through the air, no place to land but that glowing hole, a yawning mouth that darkened as it deepened.

Kestral cried out and fought her way up through sleep, swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt ground under her feet. Solid ground. A floor. It was the dream, just the dream.

She drew a long ragged breath. Where was she? Jason's bedroom, the sheets tangled but the light quilt pulled up over his bare shoulders. Some of the distress slipped away; she felt safe with him. You're all right, she told herself. It's still the middle of the night. Get up and be very quiet and make some coffee.

Searching through a pile of clothing on the floor, she found a pair of his sweats and one of her tanks she’d left here when she went swimming last week, rolled up the legs and padded barefoot and silent down the hall and up to the kitchen on the top floor.

And stopped dead. She'd been sure no one was up, but there was Wyatt, intent and focused, working on something, sheet music spread out on the marble table.

He looked up, sat back and regarded her curiously. "Hi," he finally said. "I didn't know you were here."

Kestral felt the heat start somewhere around her neck and flame up her cheeks. Completely embarrassed, she stammered, "I'm sorry I was just going to get some coffee. I didn't think anyone was awake."

He simply watched her for a few long agonizing seconds, angled face shadowed, blue eyes. Jason had blue eyes but the expression was entirely different, not like Wyatt's. "Are you ok?" he asked her.

She never had a problem around Jett, who could be obnoxious but was generally friendly and easy to get along with. Wyatt though...Wyatt unnerved her. "I think I'll just go," Kestral responded, taking a tentative step backwards.

He eased out of the chair, stood up and flashed her a sudden smile. "You don't have to do that. Jas will come down on me if I chase you away. Get whatever you want. Or sit down and let me get the coffee for you."

Kestral cast a quick look back toward the elevator, hesitating, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come up here.” "It's ok," Wyatt coaxed her. "Have a seat. You want something to eat?"

She stared at him. Wyatt started for the counter, then turned and laughed. "Maybe you should make it yourself if you're hungry. My repertoire is limited to pancakes and eggs." He paused, and, more seriously, asked again, "Are you sure you're ok?"

Kestral moved firmly toward the refrigerator. If she could cook, she could chase all this away. "I'm all right. Sometimes I have bad dreams, that's all. What would you like to eat?"

The elevator at the end of the room began to hum. Probably Jason, Kestral thought with relief. Wyatt sat back down, studying her thoughtfully.

"Make whatever you want. And I know something about bad dreams -- if coming up here works for you, then come on up anytime you want. Whatever works to get rid of them, just do it."

Jason strode through the elevator doors, saw her, glanced at Wyatt, then said, "Kes, everything all right?"

She looked from one to the other, tongue-tied, still uncertain whether she should even be here. "I think your girl is hungry," Wyatt explained, an undercurrent there, but kind.

They wrapped each other up in a long, close embrace, a gesture of reassurance more than passion.

Wyatt leaned back in the chair, watching them speculatively for a moment before turning his gaze out the front windows. That girl was haunted; what did they call her again? Bird. That was about right. And she was going to face into the wind and take off if Jason didn't figure out what was chasing her.

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 48

Chapter 46 - South Beach - Kestral Makes a Decision

2009-03-19T04:05:00.006-04:00

AN: If you've it this far, you're almost done! The next few pieces tie up loose ends. Then this part is over and Sessions begins.

Rockwood - Carpe Diem Restaurant ~ early Monday morning

Dragging from a late night, too little sleep and too many thoughts, Kestral sat a table on the deck outside their restaurant. The stump of a chair was uncomfortable. She lowered her head onto the table. It wasn’t even their restaurant anymore since her brother was finalizing the sale. “Kes?” Colin said, standing there bright and alert. “Are you asleep?”

She sighed, lifted her head and looked at him. “No. Is it done?” Obviously pleased with himself, he smiled, “Not only done, but we got a little extra. Enough to set us up when we transfer out next week to State U, invest in another place. We got a good deal.”

So here it was. Again. Colin was driving, always, making sure they stayed on the road, but always the one at the wheel. He’d made the plans; made the transfer arrangements. It was better for him, she couldn’t argue with that. But it was not where she wanted to go. Looking up at him, Kes quietly but firmly said, “I don’t want to leave.”

Kestral walked away from him, shaking slightly, caffeine and distress and lack of sleep. Over her shoulder she heard Colin demand, “What do you mean? We discussed this!” “No we didn’t,” she shot back without looking at him.

His boots echoing on the deck, Colin followed her, demanding, “What’s going on? We did discuss it, Kes. It’s a much better situation for me. And you’ve never cared where you’re enrolled – you don’t even go to the classes here.”

She gazed off at nothing, tightening up, hugging herself. It had crept up so slowly. Like the dreams. “Are you going to stand there zoning out or are you going to answer me?” Colin was almost shouting now.

Kestral drew a light breath, faced him. “I’m not leaving. You can go. You can have the money – you know what to do with it and I don’t. But I’m not going with you. Not this time, Colin.”

She walked back through the restaurant, trying not to think about what she was going to do without him; she’d never been separated from her twin. Not through all those weird years when he was the only source of stability she had. Not this time though. “Kestral!” Colin was definitely shouting now. “Is this about Jason? Talk to me!”

She stopped on the deck outside the front door, waiting for him. God she needed something to eat and some sleep and some way to know she was doing the right thing. Yes it certainly was about Jason, but it wasn’t only about Jason.

Straightening her shoulders, she watched her brother, who was watching her, confusion and concern written on his face. He would be fine. He was always the strong one. “I’m not running off again. You’re acting just like Dad. Drop one thing and fly off to the next, whatever looks brightest and shiniest. I don’t want to do that anymore. I have something, someone I want to stay with. I’m staying here.”

For a long, quiet moment Colin didn’t respond. Kes saw the comment strike hard though, hard and deep. Her brother pulled her close, still said nothing, then finally, “I don’t mean to….if I am, I’m sorry. And I won’t push you anymore. But be careful, Birdie. That guy Jason…that’s one more hole in the ground under you, nothing stable or real.”

But I have stronger wings now, she thought quietly. “I love you, Colin,” Kestral whispered, and her brother returned it, equally quietly, adding only, “I’ll always be here, Bird.”

University - Stanfield and Mitchell Rental ~ Monday evening

She waited until almost dark, curling up in her bed most of the dark dreary afternoon, then walked past the park, down the length of the Loop to the very end, just before the road curved out of the campus and on toward distant South Beach. The house with its gray stone and glass rose up wet and gleaming in the mist. He must have been watching for her, because before she rang the bell, Jason Mitchell shoved open the door and strode out to meet her. “Hi,” he greeted her, smiling. “Come on in. Nobody else is here – let’s go up on the roof. I want to know how it went.”

Kestral watched him walk a few paces ahead of her through the dimly lit room. Music played somewhere overhead, muted by distance, stone and rain.

This, she mused, admiring him from behind, is a good place. She could spill almost anything in this place and mop it up…and then smiled at herself. He made the place look good, not the other way around.

The upper deck was half roofed, the stone flooring puddled with heavy rain. “All right,” Jason began, sheltering under the overhang, “did you sell the place?” Kestral hesitated and played with one of her silver chains. She had explained about the sale, but had not mentioned Colin’s plan to transfer both of them.

“Yes, Colin sold it. He made a little profit so he’s happy. Jason, there’s more to it than that though. He’s transferring to State, and he wanted me to go with him.” He looked at her, blank, then folded his arms, shifted his weight uneasily, and replied, “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a better fit for him academically, and it’s closer to the city. He’ll have more opportunities – “
“Good for him,” Jason cut in, quick and hard, “but you never said anything to me about leaving. Is that what you’re telling me?”

Kestral backed away from him and sat down on the couch, draping one arm across her knees. The cushions were wet. Rain blew through the lattice at her back, whipping the bamboo against her skin. “No, I’m not. I just didn’t know what to do until today. But I’m not going with him, Jason. I don’t know what I’m going to do – I don’t even have a place to stay – but I wouldn’t go.” He leaned towards her, expression still confused. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to me about it. I mean, I thought…”

She stood up and moved out into the rain, big drops splattering between them. Kestral had been there, had seen him work the stage on that last performance with Mercury Rising, but he certainly didn’t treat her like a rock star’s girl. However that worked. And however or whatever he thought, she cared enough about him to separate from her twin, something she never thought she would do. “Thought what?” Jason took her hand, and simply responded, “That you felt the same way about me that I feel about you.”

Her heart leaped, but she said nothing, unsure what she was supposed to say. “Kes,” Jason added softly, “don’t you know I’m in love with you?”

Kestral wrapped her arms around him, his skin warm against her rain soaked shirt. Jason slid down onto the stone, still holding onto her. Her fingers slipping through his wet hair, Kes knelt between his legs, looked down at him. The light shining, dancing between the raindrops. “I know it,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m here. I love you too.”

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 47

Chapter 45 - South Beach - Something about a Baby

2009-03-12T23:44:00.006-04:00

South Beach - Southern Shore: 8 am

Nick looked out at the very, very narrow beach, surf splashing against the shore, and told her, “Amanda, I can’t find him. I tried. I did everything I could. You’re sure you want to go through with this – give up the baby? Move away with me?” She kept looking out at the water but she was composed. “I’m positive Daddy. My suitcase is packed – it’s inside.”

Nick followed her in, took a quick look around. He’d borrowed this place for her from a friend when Amanda insisted she wanted to spend some time alone at the beach. Too girly for him, but it was all right for her. He inhaled hard; he was tired, and hesitated to bring this up again. “Amanda, are you positive this is Gabe’s child? Isn’t there some possibility that it’s Tyler’s?” She made a face, started to respond, then took a step back.

“Daddy how many times are you going to ask me that same question? I know you’d like that, you like Tyler, but we were careful. It is not his.”

Yeah, careful, but careful didn’t mean foolproof. And giving up the baby for adoption without even knowing whether it was Tyler’s…Nick couldn’t stop her but he didn’t like it. “You did talk to Tyler about it. You told me you’d done that,” he pressed again.

“I told you I talked to him!” Amanda snapped.

He knew her. And as much as he wanted to believe her, Nick doubted she had. Tyler would want to be sure it wasn’t his child. “Amanda, if you’re lying about this – “

Amanda lurched awkwardly around, turning her back to him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she muttered. “I want to go. It’s Gabe’s baby.” “Amanda,” Nick warned again, “if it’s not – you’d better be damned sure about this.”

She picked at a plant, ripping at the leaves. “I’m sure. I don’t feel very well and I want to go. I’m not talking about it anymore.”

If he ever got that bastard in a room alone…but someone else might take care of that problem before he got the chance. Not that Nick was going to share that with his daughter. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. For all of this.” Amanda stood there looking thoughtful. “Everybody warned me. He warned me himself. I never expected this, that’s all. But I should have known better. I know him. I don’t have any excuse.”

Bay View - North Metro Area: 11:30 pm

Gabe grabbed his keys, on edge, intending to collect a debt, a pitifully small one but he let nothing slide now, opened the door into the hall and almost ran headlong into Camilla. For a second he was too stunned to react. “I’m here and I want to talk so wherever you think you’re going you are not going there right now,” she announced.

“You should not be here, Cam,” he growled, turning away and pacing back into the middle of the room. “How the hell did you find me?” “Never mind how I did it I can still do things and oh my god Gabe what a dump! Did you know there’s a dead cat in the stairwell I just about stepped in it!”

Exasperated, he spun around. “There’s always something dead down there. What’re you doing here?”

She looked different, some small change he couldn’t quite place, longer hair perhaps. Camilla was one woman Gabe had never had the remotest interest in examining, not only because she was his cousin, but noticing details was a useful habit. “Amanda’s pregnant,” Cam told him. “Did you know about that and is that baby yours?”

Interesting…Camilla and Amanda? “I know she is,” Gabe replied, cautious, trying to determine her motivation. “I also know there’s a 50-50 chance it’s Tyler’s kid. So what?”

“I’ll tell you so what!” she blasted, going into full Camilla attack mode. “If that baby is yours then that baby is our family and you think you’re walking off and letting that ridiculous woman just have it and not do anything at all about it except go on and on ‘oh it’s Tyler’s' 'it might be Tyler's' when you know it's probably not!”

Oh god, Cammie and her family fixation. That explained her concern, though; for a second there…the thought of Cam and Amanda as allies had been unsettling. Smiling, Gabe replied, “Was there a question in there someplace? Walk upstairs with me, Cam. I want to show you something.”

She followed him, glanced around and muttered something about another shitty room with an unmade bed. “Yeah, I know, not up to your standards, but that’s not what I want you to see. Outside.”

It had been raining again. Water puddled on the gravel rooftop. He had idly wondered why the tenant in the apartment below didn’t complain about a leaky roof; maybe they did. Not that the landlord would do anything about it.

“I don’t see anything but some boxes – “

“Don’t look at your feet, Cam. Look out there.”

She folded her arms, tapped her fingers irritably against her upper arm, sighed. “It’s a city. A regular old normal city with buildings and streetlights and some very good shopping.”

“A regular old normal city with some regular old normal people who intend to kill me. And they’re good at it. They are extremely good at it. They’re better at killing than you are at shopping. If Amanda had half a damned brain in her head she would keep her mouth shut about me being the father. Don’t you get it, Cam? Even if I wanted to, I can’t get near that kid. Yeah I’m a son of a bitch, I know it, but I’m not putting some little kid in the middle of this.”

Gabe wasn’t certain he was going to get through to her. Although Cam was nothing close to stupid, once she fastened on an idea, it was hard to shake her loose. He watched her, waiting for another blast about the family and the baby, but her expression changed. “Gabe,” she persisted unhappily, “I didn’t exactly think about it that way but isn’t there anything you can do to get that baby away from her?”

Irritated, he started to insist there was absolutely nothing when three sharp reports echoed off the walls followed by a distant shout, tires squealing. Gabe turned away from her with a quick gesture for silence and stared out into the night. “Where did you park?” he demanded.

“Around the back in the alley,” Camilla told him. “I know better than to put it right out front on the curb.” Gabe didn’t look back her at. “Good girl. I doubt this is about me, but I want you to leave.”

She hadn’t planned on staying long anyway, but the immediacy of the threat bothered her. This was serious. This was not gossip in a bar with MJ or someone getting mad at someone else because they cheated or anything else but deadly serious. Camilla had never much cared for Gabe; strange that they got along so well. He was almost her best friend despite being an asshole. “Gabe, are you going to be all right?”

He studied her, those blue eyes shadowed, no hint of the smile he usually wore. “I don’t know,” Gabe admitted quietly. “Probably not.”

Stunned, she said nothing. Did he really believe that? “Cammie, you have to go, and you can’t come back here. Quit trying to take care of me. I don’t know if I’m going to get away with this, and I sure don’t want you anywhere near me when they find me.”

Her crazy cousin…she knew something was going to happen to him eventually. She’d expected to even enjoy watching it go down after all the trouble he caused everybody, but now that it seemed imminent Camilla didn’t like it at all. She pulled him into a hug, his leather jacket smooth under her hands, and Gabe held her for a long moment. “You be careful,” she whispered.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he murmured. “I always land on my feet. Go bug Tony if you want a project. Or someone else who needs a push, if you think Tony isn’t a sufficient challenge.”

That went over better than he had anticipated; he hadn’t even had to stretch much to accomplish it. There was no way he could get involved with some woman’s kid, even Amanda, and even if he was inclined to do it. Which he was not. Gabe watched her leave, wondered briefly if he should make sure she got to her car, then blew it off. She might be safer by herself.

“Bye Cammie…”

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Chapter 43 - South Beach - Running Away #3

2009-03-09T02:32:00.009-04:00

Dodging and turning at high speed through every back alley and road he knew, Rayne clinging on behind him, Rafe tore out of the city, raced down the coast road, then pulled up in front of Stanfield's mansion. He swung off his bike and tried to compose himself. At least Rainie had some experience riding on the back of a big bike – Cooper had taken her out more than once.

Rafe parked the bike behind a cop car and an ambulance and stood there on the sidewalk, uncertain. Why was an ambulance here? Cooper and a man who probably was a detective of some kind both stood at the top of the flight of stairs, staring at him. “Uncle Rafe,” Raine was saying. Over and over again.

He drew a deep breath and looked down at her. “What is it?” “Are they going to take me to jail? Are they mad at me?” He smiled. Mad would come later…”No, they aren’t mad. But remember what I told you on the way here. Go on. Go see your daddy.”

Rafe slowly followed her, trying to let them have a moment. Cooper released his daughter from what was undoubtedly the biggest hug she’d ever received, turned and glared at him. “Rafe,” Cooper said flatly, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Why am I not surprised. Rayne, go inside the house. Now.”

The child never did do what she was told, and she didn’t now. “No Daddy, don’t be mad at Uncle Rafe. He got me when I was lost. And I rode on his bike and I didn’t fall off.”

Distracted, his attention torn between his daughter and the ambulance, Cooper hesitated, looked down, then came right back, visibly shaken but obviously enraged. Jumping to the wrong conclusion, Rafe knew, although this one looked bad. He couldn’t blame the man this time. “What the hell is going on? Has she been with you all this time?”

Rafe shook his head, shifted his weight, watching the man behind Cooper and fully expecting to be arrested no matter what Rayne said. “I found her less than an hour ago. I have kids of my own – no matter what I think of you, I wouldn’t keep your daughter away from you. Whatever’s going on here, and that’s between you and Beth, something scared her. Maybe you’d better take some time to deal with that. If you can fit it in.”

For a long, nerve-racking moment Cooper said nothing. The man behind him called out his name, sharply. “Mr. Taylor.” Rafe ignored him, tried to ignore him. Finally, in a deep quiet voice, Cooper responded, “We need to talk. But not now. Beth’s in labor. I have to go.”

Rafe started back toward his bike. In labor….that meant she was early. Rayne’s little prank and Gabe’s incredible failure to recognize the child probably pushed that up, but he couldn’t help wondering if there was more. Whatever it was, he’d bet Cooper had something to do with it. If the man was home more than 5 days a year, what he could spare from his tours, he'd be surprised. “Rafe,” he heard Cooper call out. He briefly considered not responding, then reluctantly turned and looked back.

"Thank you."

Late Evening...

Exhausted, ecstatic, relieved. Cooper stood in his daughter’s bedroom, knowing he needed to grab a few hours sleep before making arrangements to go back to the hospital – twin boys, he still had trouble believing it – but he had yet to really talk to Rayne about what had happened. Dealing with her reasons for running away…he’d have to wait until he could think clearly to tackle that. But where she had been, no, he wanted to know the truth about that now.

She’d had been wandering around the house, uncharacteristically quiet, since they’d driven back from the hospital. But then it had to have been a long difficult night and day for her, too much for a little girl. “You’ve got two little brothers now Raindrop, Eric and Nathan. You’ll have to help mommy out with them. Both of us need to go to bed, but I want to talk to you for a couple of minutes.”

She looked up at him, and Cooper was hit with another wave of relief. He’d tried to hide his worst fears from Beth, probably not too successfully. The fact that she’d gone into early labor after 12 solid hours of panic about their daughter said something about how successful he’d been. “Rainie,” he said carefully, “I need to know where you really were. Were you with Rafe all this time?” “No Daddy, I wasn’t. I runned to the cat lady’s house. It was really cold.”

He had no idea what or where that was. A cat lady? “Yeah I bet it was cold. Is that someplace close by? You were there the whole time right? You need to tell me the truth about this.”

She shrugged. “She had lots of cats. But she wasn’t there and I didn’t see any cats. Then I got rescued. Uncle Rafe brought me home on his bike.”

Cooper drew a deep, weary breath. She was evading him. Or was she? He was too drained to think about it. “All right, tomorrow you can show me the cat lady’s house, before we bring mommy and your brothers home. Can you do that?”

The corners of her mouth dropped down. In a very small voice, Rayne asked, "Are you mad? I'm sorry. I was scared."

Then she abruptly smiled and added, "Can I get a cat?"

“We’re not mad. We were scared too. Right now you’re going to bed. We’ll talk about getting you a cat later.” Much later, Cooper thought dryly, imagining Beth’s reaction to adding a cat to the household on top of the twins.

“Get some sleep babygirl,” Cooper told her quietly, hugged her, turned off the light and half staggered down the hall to his own bed.

He had too much going on, but his family was safe, the most important thing, the only thing that really mattered. The rest of it, and there was definitely more left undone, he could deal with. If not tomorrow, then soon. Very soon.

“I told you. I didn’t tell. And I won’t forget. I won't ever forget.”

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NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 44

Chapter 42 - South Beach - Running Away #2

2009-03-03T15:11:00.002-05:00

It took Rafe less time than Gabe had anticipated, but then the man drove that bike like a bat out of hell. He’d thought about the bike, not the best way to transport the kid. No way to tell his cousin to drive his wife’s car without an explanation he didn’t want to give though. As far as Rafe knew, Gabe had something important to return, and that was it. “What’s this about?” Rafe demanded as he came through the door. “I thought you were supposed to be dead.”

Smiling, Gabe returned, “Not yet...but I’m touched. Were you worried about me?”

“Every time I step on a roach, I worry about you Gabe,” Rafe snarled. “What do you want? What’s the big secret item you have? And why would I care?”

“Keep your voice down,” Gabe cautioned him. “I need a chance to explain before she wakes up. I don't want to upset her too much.”

That shut him up for a few seconds. “She?” Rafe repeated, his voice lower now, cautious, confused. “You’ve got a woman here I’m supposed to be interested in? And you don’t want to ‘upset’ her? Did you get hit in the head? Who the hell is she?”

This was the tricky part, convincing his cousin that he hadn’t picked up the child deliberately, kidnapped her. “Not a woman, a little girl,” Gabe told him, carefully clenching and unclenching his left hand, studying it, glancing sidelong at Rafe. He’d used it on someone a few days ago; it still didn’t feel right. “Cooper Stanfield’s little girl. She’s upstairs.”

Rafe drew a hard and audible breath, grabbed Gabe by the shoulders and spun him around. “What?” he hissed. “Rayne is here? Are you out of your fucking mind? What are you doing with her? Do you have any idea what’s going on? Is she all right?”

Gabe shook him off, irritated. “Yeah she’s all right. She wouldn’t be all right if I hadn’t picked her up. She was out on the coast road in her pajamas in the middle of the night, freezing. She said she ran away. I didn’t know who she was until about ten minutes before I called you. Do you honestly believe I’d hurt some kid?”

Something up in the loft thumped. Gabe moved toward the staircase, uneasy, continuing quietly, “I need you to get her out of here. I can’t do it.” Rafe followed him. “Are you sure it’s her?”

Someone started down the stairs. Gabe grinned up at the girl who descended slowly, taking the stairs one tread at a time. Making an entrance, he thought, amused. “I’m sure…take a look for yourself.”

He watched Rafe’s reaction, suppressing laughter. This was good, almost good enough to make up for the trouble the girl had caused. “Was I right?” Gabe murmured.

Rayne looked up at them and exclaimed in surprise, “Uncle Rafe! I didn’t know you knew where I was!”

By now Gabe had surmised that the “uncle” he resembled was his cousin, another point of mild amusement. So Rafe had acquired a family honorific. Uncle…not bad, but not as good as “prince”.

“Rayne,” Rafe started, sounding stunned, “are you all right? What did you do? Everybody’s looking for you.” “I’m fine, I got rescued,” she said, very self-possessed.

“Yeah…well sweetie, that’s great, but you have to go home. I’m taking you home. Your mommy and daddy are going to be very happy to see you. They were worried. Are you sure you’re ok?”

She looked from Rafe to Gabe and then back again. Frowned. And announced adamantly, “I don’t want to go yet. I want to stay with the prince!”

Rafe swung his gaze directly at Gabe, his eyes cold, surprised. “The what?” he asked. “Prince. Did I understand her correctly?”

“I said he’s a prince!” Rayne insisted. “Tell him! Tell him who you are!” “Rayne,” Rafe began, “I don’t know what he told you but –“

“Wait a minute Rafe,” Gabe interrupted. If the kid wanted to believe he was a prince and it kept her quiet, got her home, he didn’t see any harm in it. She would probably forget the whole experience in a week.

“Rayne,” he told her, very lightly touching her hair, “listen to me. No one can know about me being a prince. That’s just for you to know. It’s important. You understand?”

He thought she might object, or continue to insist that he explain, but instead she unexpectedly threw her arms around his neck, surprising him. Gabe didn’t move for a long heartbeat, then he laughed and returned the hug. “I understand,” Rayne whispered against his ear. “I won’t ever tell. I won’t ever forget.”

Childlike, she slipped away, ran over and looked out the window. It had begun to rain. Hard.

“I don’t know what in hell you told her,” Rafe growled, “but fantasy shit about princes is low even for you.”

“She came up with it herself. Leave her alone, Rafe. Get her out of here and home where she belongs but let her have her prince thing if it makes her feel good. In a few days she’ll forget I exist.”

They turned and watched her looking at the storm, water pouring down the glass and through the open window. “I hope you’re right,” Rafe responded quietly. “And I wish you’d told me to bring Gayl’s car.”

Anxious and uncertain how he was going to manage this, get her back through the city on the back of his bike without being recognized, stopped and arrested himself, Rafe hurried Rayne down the stairs and out the front of the building, where she stubbornly stopped and looked up three stories above the shabby Chinese restaurant. “Rayne,” he urged, “we can’t stop.”

“I just want to look one more time…”

Look at what one last time? A Chinese takeout place? Exasperated, he followed her gaze up. And there was his cousin, standing out in the rain, looking down. Thunder rolled through the heavy clouds. Maybe the world would get lucky and lightning would strike Gabe while he stood there. A prince…right….

“Ok you got your last look, Rainie. We have to get out of here right now.”

-----------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 43

Chapter 41 - South Beach - Running Away #1

2009-03-01T14:06:00.004-05:00

Gabe parked the car, ignoring the sign about permits, and tried to hurry the girl past Chang’s and up the stairs to his loft. She’d slept a little in the car and took her time, staring at the restaurant as if she’d never seen one.

“Is this your home?” she asked him. “It’s red! And what are those things – “

Red. That was one way to describe this dump. “Come on, we need to get inside. It’s not safe out here.”

The usual garbage in the stairwell…Gabe ignored it after one careful glance toward the back end of the place.

“That is horrible!” the girl squeaked, holding her nose. “That is the worst what is that?”

“Stink bugs,” Gabe lied. Maybe there were stink bugs in the pile. Along with the occasional dead rat. And dog. And human being. “Upstairs. Now.”

He unlocked the dead bolt, clipped the key back to the chain on his belt, and watched her reaction. South Beach reaction. Silence. But to her credit, she didn’t say anything about the place, nothing like what he’d left but all he could manage at the moment. “Are you hungry?” Gabe asked her. In a very small voice, thoughtful, she replied, “Yes please.”

Gabe threw some cereal in bowls, grabbed milk he hoped hadn’t gone bad, set them down and started in on her. “Why’d you run away?”

She shoveled in a mouthful first before responding, “Because my mommy and daddy were in a big fight. Some people buy a divorce when they get in a fight. Samantha told me that. I don’t want them to buy one of those.”

Divorce? Was that all? It was hard to believe. “You’re sure that’s it? Nobody hurt you, something like that?”

She looked at him sideways, an interesting little move that reminded him of someone. He couldn't place it yet. “Nobody hurt me. Would you come get me with a sword if they did?”

This was unreal….did the kid actually believe he was a prince? “Uh…” Gabe began, wondering how far this was going to go before he could get her name out of her. “Yeah sure I would. If I knew where you live. You have to help me out with that though.”

She drew a circle in the spilled milk, one finger slowly moving around the glass table top. “You could find me,” she told him, then dug the spoon back in the bowl of cereal.

This was ridiculous. “All right, listen to me Princess,” Gabe said. “Maybe your parents were just fighting. Divorces cost a lot of money and they’re hard to find in a store. Your parents are going to be worried about you – I need to get you back home.”

“Did you buy one?” she returned, ignoring everything else he’d said.

Gabe's skin prickled along the back of his neck. Coincidence but unsettling.

“That’s a personal question. You won’t answer any of my personal questions, so I’m not going to answer yours. You answer one of mine and I’ll answer one of yours.”

Instead of answering him, she jumped up from the table, scurried around it and pelted up the stairs into the loft. And the open rooftop.

“Hey!” Gabe shouted after her. “What are you doing? Hang on a sec!”

She didn’t respond or slow down, shoved open the door and strolled right out onto the rooftop, leaving him no choice but to follow. And stand there, starting to feel the damage from the night before and still no way out of this.

She stopped at the edge of the roof, looked out at the city and gasped, “I never saw this before!”

Despite himself, Gabe laughed, “Pretty impressive isn’t it? So you don’t live in the city. What’s your daddy do when he goes to work? Does he work in a restaurant?” Not that he thought 'daddy' worked in a restaurant but it was a place to begin.

“No, he can’t cook that good. He cooks eggs sometimes.” She eyed him, thinking about it, wheels turning behind those eyes. “He plays a guitar. And why do you live on top of a restaurant? That red place that's a restaurant, isn't it?”

A guitar? And daddy lived in South Beach? He had to be making big bank playing the guitar. He knew most of the people in SB...there were only a few...no, that couldn't be. “Why do I live on top of a restaurant," Gabe echoed. "Is that my question?”

“Yes.”

“Because I like to eat.”

Another long, rippling peal of laughter. “Can we eat down there? And now I get a question.”

“Uh…you got one, we can eat at the restaurant,” he lied, having no intention of parading some half dressed child in a public place.

“That’s not fair,” she snapped. “That wasn’t a real question.” Then got up off the damned box he’d put out there and sat down on the gravel.

Following her, Gabe curled up close, thinking fast. “You’re right, it wasn’t fair,” what could he offer her to get her to give him something useful, “you can ask one more question. Any question you want. A big question instead of a little question. Then I get to ask one big question too. Is that a deal?”

She looked troubled. “Maybe. I get to decide though.”

She certainly had attitude to spare. “Go ahead,” Gabe invited. “Ask me something.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Completely taken aback, Gabe stared at her. Amused, he shook his head. “No, I don’t. Girls don’t like me very much.”

“Then they’re dumb,” she blurted out, laughing. “I’m a girl. I like you.”

What the hell…beguiling little flirt. Who was this girl? He was getting closer though – a few more turns in this game and he’d know who she was. “Fifteen years from now you can hit me up and we’ll talk. Now it’s my turn. Ready?”

“I guess so but I’m not going to tell you my name so that can’t be your question.”

“I got it. You decide. How about this one? What’s the name of your daddy’s band?”

She seemed to consider it, then looked up at him and laughed again. “Mercury Rising.”

For a second Gabe found it hard to catch his breath. It couldn’t be…This was Stanfield’s kid? Rayne Stanfield? This was bad. This was….damn…had someone in Chang’s noticed them before he got her up the stairs? It had to be all over the place by now, missing kid alerts, cops looking for her, who the hell knows what Stanfield had done, offered a reward, someone in the building across the street could see them…He stared off beyond her, trying to think.

“Are you ok?” she asked him. “My daddy's not bad. He doesn't even have a sword."

Gabe stood up, uncomfortably stiff. A sword...yeah her daddy did have a sword. He had a bank account the size of the city block. This had to end and fast but if the kid was going to put up a fight…maybe she’d go to sleep. He needed room to work this. “No, it’s fine. You want to lie down for a while?” he said, making it a question but walking purposefully toward the door. He had to get her off the rooftop.

“Are there bugs in this?” Rayne demanded, pulling back the sheet on his bed. “Like the bugs downstairs? Stinky bugs?”

“No stinky bugs in my bed. No bugs at all. It’s clean – take a nap.”

Cute kid, he thought, watching her crash immediately, but dangerous as hell. He couldn’t leave her here to try to figure this out; couldn’t take her with him. There had to be a way…

How to move this particular piece of merchandise without anyone knowing….he needed a middleman who owed him. Smiling to himself, Gabe walked quietly through the loft back to the rooftop.

“Hello Rafe…I have something that belongs to a friend of yours, and I’m sure she wants it back...”

----------------

NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 42

Chapter 40 - South Beach - Crossroad

2009-02-22T15:47:00.034-05:00

South Beach - Near Dawn Monday Morning

About half way back home Gabe realized he’d taken a wrong turn, his mind too occupied to turn over the task of driving in unfamiliar territory to his normal autopilot. He pulled over at a deserted beach front home, got out of the car and swore softly. Where was he?

Distant lights reflected off the water – that was Bay View – which meant he was somewhere near far upper South Beach, land of the rich and famous. There wouldn’t be anyone around here he could ask for directions, no gas stations, 7-11s, nothing. He stretched, breathing in cold salt air. It would be dawn soon, but right now it was unusually cold, even for mid-winter.

Starting back for the car, he paused, focusing on something rustling in the dark and overgrown shrubbery. Dog? Stray cat? In this area? He hesitated a second, taking another look, and saw her.

She was maybe six years old, not that he had any reference point for the age of children, but small. And, incredibly, she appeared to be dressed only in pajamas or some kind of children’s underwear. And she was staring at him, wide-eyed and obviously scared.

Aw come on, he told himself, looking back at her. Don’t get involved in this. Gabe searched the dark beach, glanced over his shoulder at the road. Nothing. No car, no people. What the hell…he couldn’t leave a little kid out here alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask her name, maybe drop her off at her house. If it wasn’t too far out of his way.

Kneeling down, Gabe held out his hand then quickly withdrew it, unsure how to even talk to a scared kid, and said softly, “Hi. Are you all right?”

She was shivering. Of course she was, it was freezing out here. “I’m cold,” she told him.

You’re going to regret this, he told himself. Walk away. He struggled, thought about it. He couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right, and he’d rarely gone wrong following his instinct. “Yeah I can see that. Are your parents here?”

She stepped out from under the bushes. The dim security lighting on the side of the beach house fell across a finely boned face and a pair of unusual golden brown eyes. Gabe’s memory clicked into higher gear – she looked familiar. He rapidly probed that memory but came up blank; it didn’t make much sense that he would recognize a child anyway.

“No,” she said, hugging herself and digging one bare toe into the wet sand. Not only was she inadequately dressed, she was barefoot. “I runned away.”

Gabe sighed, straightened up, still studying her. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you,” she declared. “I’m not supposed to tell people my name.”

Just great. He couldn’t pack up a runaway kid and drop her off at the nearest police station. It was too risky. Same deal with a hospital – they had security cameras. He didn’t want to turn her loose on a busy street downtown – far too familiar with the underbelly of that place to do that to a little girl. Cammie…he could drop her off with Cam and let her deal with it. No, better not…he didn’t trust Cam that much. She’d end up telling someone where she got the kid.

The little girl was still warily watching him. Gabe drew a deep exasperated breath. “Look,” he said to her, “you can’t stay here. You see the ocean? That cold water will come right up on top of you and freeze you into a popsicle. When I read about it tomorrow, I’ll feel really bad. So you’re coming with me until we figure out where you belong.”

Since she’d obviously been trained not to talk to strangers, Gabe anticipated she would argue or run, and wasn’t happy contemplating wrestling her into his car. But she had been looking at him as carefully as he had been examining her, and unexpectedly she questioned, “Are you my uncle? Cause you look like him.”

And that question made him queasy. What kind of “uncle”? Why was the kid running away, and dressed like that? The situation took on a darker color, ominous. That did it; he definitely wasn’t leaving her out here by herself. “No, I’m not your uncle,” he told her flatly. “Tell you what, I’ll give you something sharp to hold – if you promise you won’t cut yourself with it. Now get in the car. It’s cold out here.”

She continued to gaze at him, and then persisted, “Is it a sword? Are you a prince?”

That had to be the funniest thing anyone had ever asked him. Gabe turned away from her and strode toward the car. A prince…not one out of any of her fairy tales, that was for damned sure. Trying to keep from laughing, he told her, “Yeah I’m a prince. It’s a very small sword. It’s called a knife. And you can keep it if you want it.”

“It’s unlocked,” Gabe absently said as he opened the door, watching her pad through the sand around to the passenger seat. She was covered with sand. He was going to have a hell of a time cleaning it up.

“What’s your prince name then?” she continued, climbing into the car. “Princes have those you know, prince names. Sometimes they’re stupid though.”

Remarkably assured for a kid who had spent the night out on a cold beach by herself, he mused. This was insane. This was one of the most dangerous risks he’d ever taken.

She slammed the door, one quick athletic yank.

Gabe started the car, the powerful engine purring in the silence, eased up the clutch, tightened his hand around the stick and shifted into reverse. “The Prince of Nothing…that’s who I am.”

-------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 41

Chapter 39 - South Beach - Assumptions

2009-01-31T10:26:00.042-05:00

Pine Lake – Sunday morning

Sometimes it’s better to just sleep, sleep through everything…Beth paused, considering Ryan as he slept. Sleeping on a couch like that, you discover bones you never knew you had, and they all hurt. Her mind began to wander off into silly philosophical mazes about discovery and things you didn’t know you had and whether pain was real or imaginary. Procrastination is a powerful force, she thought dryly, even when you recognize it and try to nail it to wall. Take that, procrastination. Consider yourself nailed.

Leaving the house for the privacy of the deck, Beth leaned over the rail, Ryan’s cell phone firmly gripped in her hand – she wasn’t taking any chances with it – and tried to prepare herself for the call. Cooper was going to be furious that she’d taken off like this; she knew him. It would have scared him, fear fueling the anger; she already felt regret -- Coop had been through too much, no matter how justified she was, running off and frightening him had been childish. Listen to him; and wait…just wait.

The phone rang and rang, long purring notes in the silence. Beth kept waiting for it to click over into voice mail; he must have switched it off, something he only did when he was waiting for a call he didn’t want to miss. She was about to hang up when finally Cooper answered, abrupt and hard. “Ryan where is she – “ Well it was Ryan’s cell she was using since hers was at the bottom of the pool. “It’s me Coop.”

“Yes I’m all right – we’re both all right,” she replied to his immediate question. “I know I know – “ Beth paced the length of the deck, early morning light glinting on thick frost on the top of the rail. She was cold, shaking with cold. Clutching Ryan’s cell close to her ear, and it seemed to smell faintly of his skin, she tried to listen through the shivering to Cooper’s voice.

“It’s too early for you,” she began, trying to cut the conversation short since it wasn’t really a conversation at all. There was no point standing out here in the cold listening to him yell that she needed a 24 hour babysitter, and she felt numb, not inclined to argue about it. Or to point out that considering the last few days, he could have used one himself.

Unsuccessfully. Cooper’s voice was rough, ragged, but he insisted on keeping her on the phone. He hadn’t slept; she needed to calm down; he would explain; he was flying in this afternoon; where the hell was she and damn it do not ever do that to him again. Anger, weariness, anxiety…but he hung up with one short strong declaration: “I’m not going to allow anything to destroy my family – I mean that, Beth.”

Through the window she saw Ryan start to stir, moving stiffly on that uncomfortable couch where he had spent the night, although she doubted he got much sleep either. She’d fallen asleep right there on that same couch, dozed off against his shoulder while he lay half sprawled and gazing silently out at the lake. Looking at him now, Beth wondered uneasily if Ryan fell into the “anything” category Cooper was referring to.

She slid back the door and went into the house, heading for the kitchen to make coffee, brooding on it. Rafe almost certainly was “anything”, but that man was unstoppable; the more Coop pushed him, the harder he would push back. Ryan however…Ryan was really worried about his job.

Hearing his footsteps behind her, Beth turned and offered, “I made some coffee. Do you want some?” Ryan stretched, massaged the back of his neck, studied her groggily. “You did something to your hair…it’s nice.”

She smiled and sat down. “I almost whacked it off with a pair of scissors.”

Ryan gulped coffee, shook his head. “Don’t do that.” Then, slightly embarrassed, he added, “It’s your hair, sorry, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“Except cut it off,” Beth teased him gently. “Yeah, well,” he started, glanced out the window then back at her with a small smile, “it looks good long.”

The moment stretched out, sunlight starting to warm the room. It felt good to be here, quiet, peaceful, time suspended and golden, the companionship close and easy. Still not quite fully awake, Ryan returned her smile, briefly allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to stay here with her with no limits, temporal or physical, a fantasy both intensely sweet and erotic…

He swallowed hard, shook it off and glanced at his cell where she’d left it on the counter. Get real here, he told himself. You’ve got a lot to deal with. “You called him? How did it go?”

Beth stood up, put her coffee cup on the sink, and with her back still to him, briefly considered what she wanted to tell him. Right now, as little as possible seemed best. “I need to get Rainie up and start back,” she said, still not looking in Ryan’s direction. “He’s flying in this afternoon, stopping off to see Wyatt first.”

Damage control, Ryan thought sourly. “All right,” he pushed back from the table, his back aching from the night on that couch, “I’ll jump in the shower and drive you home.”

Disturbed, still unable to stop thinking of him as one of the “anythings” that weren’t going to be allowed, Beth put her hand on his bicep, and, abandoning her decision to say nothing, told him firmly, “I’m not going to let you lose your job, Ryan. I won’t let that happen. Don’t worry about it.”

It stunned him. He stared at her, surprised, touched, and then amused. When was the last time someone had tried to take care of him instead of the other way around? Had that ever happened? “Beth,” Ryan gently responded, “thank you, but don’t get in the middle of this. I can take care of myself. Now go get your little girl ready to go.”

South Beach – Stanfield Residence – Sunday night

Beth heard the limo pull up, the door slam, then drive away before she saw it. It was hours later than she had expected him. Rayne was finally asleep, and that in itself had been a challenge since she had fought to be allowed to stay up until her father arrived. Cooper looked weary, upset, the shadows under his eyes dark, his mouth tight.

He took two paces toward her and stopped, and smiled. That same half smile, lighting up his eyes, the same smile she remembered from the very first time she’d met him. Warm. Seductive. “Damn,” he said, rough voice quiet, “you look so good.”

Cooper certainly did too. It had been a month since she had seen him; not a significant amount of time but long enough to blur the edges of memory. Even exhausted, he was strikingly sensual. Remember why you left yesterday, she cautioned herself. Don’t let him immediately seduce you into giving him his way, into always agreeing to whatever he wants. Not that it wiped the smile off her face, because it didn’t.

Nevertheless, it was difficult to stand there next to him and hold onto her anger. In a softer tone than she had planned on using to greet him, she allowed him to take her hand, brush her cheek with his mouth, replying, “So do you Coop. But we need to talk.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want anything coming between us – I need to straighten things out.”

Ryan moved out from behind her where he’d been standing silently, his gaze fixed on some imaginary point beyond them. “I’ll be taking off then,” he cut in.

“Ryan,” Cooper intercepted him before he left, “I want a word before you go. Outside.”

Ryan waited by his SUV, already anticipating the worst and trying to come up with his next move. Damn it, any other time and he’d have enough resources to tide him over until he came up with something else, but not this time, not with Landry depending on him for support. He drew a deep breath and faced Cooper.

Cooper approached him, crossed his arms, shifted his weight, his temper barely in check, but he was too tired and too anxious to get back inside to Beth to deal with this now. “When the tour is over,” he told Ryan flatly, “I want to discuss your contract. In my office.”

His expression still, impassive, masking his concern, Ryan looked directly at him. “Is there a problem?”

“Not one I can’t deal with,” Cooper abruptly flared. “My wife is a beautiful woman. Is that why you delayed letting me know where she was? Do you have a problem handling that?”

Remembering Beth’s pain and confusion last night at the lake house, Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll see you in your office,” he said, half turned to go, then answered the question before he got in his car, knowing he was going too far. “She’s a beautiful person. She deserves the best.”

Incensed, Cooper inhaled hard; son of a bitch…the implication being that he wasn’t? Had he even been asking the right question? Instead of wondering whether something was going on between the two of them, maybe he should be questioning how far it had gone.

He slammed back into the house, didn’t see her, and called out, “Beth! Where are you?” “Upstairs.”

Waiting for him on the deck outside the bedroom, Beth watched him stride toward her, and immediately saw the difference. Cooper had been tired and on edge when he arrived; now anger lit his eyes. He walked up very close to her, and his hoarse voice deceptively silky, “You’re going to tell me the truth about what’s going on with Ryan. I want to hear it, right now, all of it.”

Beth had been prepared to start in on him about the club, the rumors, and was momentarily stunned into silence. So they were right back where they were two days ago…and in a place that left her deeply uneasy. For all her 'we're just friends' rationalizations, there had been more than that between the two of them, a lot more than that. But that didn't justify Cooper's behavior. The attack on Ryan was a diversion.

Rage pulsed through her; she felt the movement in her womb, as if the anger poured into it like acid. “What is this?!” she shot back at him. “I’m not allowed to have a friend?! Or maybe I need to get your permission first?!”

Cooper made an effort, an enormous effort, to pull back. He paced to the end of the deck, breathed in the night air, turned and said in a calmer tone, “Either you’re lying or you’re blind. You’re going to stand here and tell me you don’t know how he feels about you? And that nothing, nothing at all has happened between the two of you?”

This was the moment, she thought, dismayed, trapped, suddenly frightened, this was the moment she should tell him. But it would come back on Ryan, come back hard. Like the episode with Chris, it was one thing to take the responsibility on herself, but quite another to harm someone else. One part of her mind screamed are you crazy? It was one time! Tell him and get it over with! Let Ryan take care of himself! While another staggered, in denial, no that wasn’t true, Ryan didn’t feel anything, Ryan was just a friend. An attractive friend – there was attraction. Huge undeniable attraction. That was different. That wasn’t the same thing.

She walked away from him, sat down heavily on the bench, trying to breathe. Cooper followed, standing over her and looking down in silence. “Coop,” Beth began carefully, attempting to find some truth in this mess, picking through her words like walking a mine field, “I have no relationship with Ryan except friendship. I am not sleeping with him," she added, using the present tense. That was true. It hadn't happened again. "And if he feels something more than that, I’m honestly not aware of it.”

He shook his head, exasperated, held out his hand and helped her back up, still studying her face. Something was wrong. She was protecting Ryan, but protecting him as a lover? Cooper didn't see it, didn't feel it, and had trouble believing she'd chose a damned bodyguard over him. Pushing it further, he told her, “Then you won’t have a problem if I fire him. Right?”

That sent shock waves through her. “Fire him?” Beth echoed. “Coop, don’t fire him. That’s not fair!”

“I don’t give a damn about fair!” Cooper shouted, irritated, frustrated and fighting waves of exhaustion. Between Wyatt and Ryan…he knew he never should have hired Ryan to begin with…“I don’t want him around you! It’s my decision!”

“Your decision,” her anger creeping back again. “Just like it was your decision to go play at a brothel without telling me? That was just fine. No problem unless I found out about it, then it was Rafe’s fault. Doesn’t matter that I might feel horrible about it, who cares about that, it’s your life, it’s your decision! Are you so arrogant you can’t see that?!”

For a long moment they stood in silence, the wind picking up, blowing hard from offshore. The ground beneath him seemed to shift, showing cracks he hadn’t known were there, ominous, yawning, a landscape of pain and suspicion. Deeply alarmed, he had to stop this and stop it now, it had gone too far. “Beth,” Cooper finally started, feeling his way through, carefully, watching her, “Chameleon…it’s a safe place for me; it’s private; I don’t go there for sex.” Not now – but that was history and detail she didn’t need to know. “They know not to touch me. I didn’t handle it the way I should have – that’s obvious. You know what it’s like on tour; it never bothered you before. Why is it an issue now? And Ryan…baby something's not right. I don’t understand what’s gone wrong.”

Beth’s face suddenly drained of color, her mouth white. She looked past him toward the bedroom door, reached out; put her hand on his arm. “Coop…behind you…”

Confused, now worried she was going to faint, he’d pushed this too hard, he hesitated. “What…I don’t –"

“Rainie…" Beth whispered. Cooper spun around and saw his daughter standing in his bedroom, her face contorted, angry, frightened, little hands clenched into fists. Damn it, how long had she been standing there?

Before either of them could move, Rayne whirled and took off running, storming through the bedroom door, her footsteps echoing as she tore down the stairs.

“My god Coop – what did she hear?” Beth gasped.

At the last moment, he took a chance he could catch up with Rayne and pulled Beth hard up against him. “I love you,” Cooper swore quietly, “and I’ll get her. I’ll take care of it.”

“Rainie!” he shouted as he took the stairs two at a time. “Hey Rainie wait a minute!”

There was no answer. Wind blew, rattling the glass of the front door which was wide open, the courtyard and the street beyond it wide and open and empty.

----------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 40

Chapter 38 - South Beach - Ignition

2009-01-22T22:29:00.035-05:00

South Beach - Stanfield Residence - Thursday, very early morning

Rising out of deep exhausted sleep, slowly, chased out by the deep toll of a bell somewhere offshore, Beth rubbed her eyes, lurched up. She’d fallen asleep on the couch. What time was it? Past 2 a.m., almost 2:30.

The bell rang again – not the clang of a buoy but the insistent purr of her cell which was, well where was it? She got up, moving slowly, followed the sound through the darkened kitchen and managed to punch the button. Even Coop wouldn’t call this late but it couldn’t be anyone else. “Hello?”

Cooper’s voice, blurred but tense, leapt out at her. “Beth. I need to talk to you.”

Something in the tone, whether it was the hour or remnants of a bad dream still fogging her mind, abruptly terrified her. Her own voice caught in her throat. Gripping the phone hard, backing away from the desk, she let her thoughts start to run screaming in panic round and round her mind for a few seconds – he was calling to say he wanted a divorce; he was calling to say he had made a mistake and had been in love with Stevie all along – oh for gods sake stop it! she scolded herself. Cautiously, she asked, “In the middle of the night? Are you ok?”

“Yeah but I need to explain about something.” And he proceeded to talk, at length, rambling, something about a club and Rafe and how she should not listen and it wasn’t like it appeared, none of it very coherent. It didn’t sound as if he were at a club; it was very quiet. But it did sound as though he’d had a great deal to drink.

“What are you talking about?” Beth interrupted. “What kind of club? Why would I care?”

Cooper hesitated. “A private club.”

A private…she stared at the phone, unable to believe he would actually…then walked outside into the cool night air where she could at least breathe. “Coop are you talking about some kind of brothel? You and Rafe are at a whore house?”

Another long silence before he began to repeat himself without ever quite answering her question. Her back ached; she was so tired she was almost cross-eyed and he was calling her from a whore house? And not because he felt bad about it, but because Rafe might tattle on him? Something she couldn’t imagine Rafe doing anyway, especially if he was there with him.

“Are you done?” she finally broke in.

Then unexpectedly, he shot back at her in a voice hard and hoarse with anger, “Am I done? What about you? What the hell is going on with you and Ryan?”

Her heart pounded in her chest and her throat tightened. She couldn't answer that question. She didn't know the answer. Ryan was a constant warm prescence she didn't want to contemplate losing, but that night...that night had not been repeated. She was trying. Was Cooper making any similar effort? No. He was calling her from inside a goddamned brothel. Completely enraged, Beth shouted into the phone, “I’ll tell you what is NOT going on! I’m not running around the house naked chasing him with a riding whip! Why don’t you go back and play with your girls! It sounds like the party sure didn’t start without you!”

She cut the connection, turned to the pool and in a fit of fury, hurled the cell phone into the water.

Beth stood there, shaking with anger, pain, fear, jealousy. And second guessing herself. She should not have hung up on him. She should call back. No, he would call back. No he probably wouldn’t.

To hell with him. She was not waiting around here. And she wasn’t putting up with Ryan tagging along with her, not this time. Hauling herself up the stairs, Beth marched down the hall, went into Rayne’s room and switched on the light. “Rainie,” she said softly, waking her daughter, “wake up. We’re going on a little trip, just you and me. Get dressed honey.”

Pine Lake - Friday, early afternoon

Rayne banged her feet off the side of the narrow deck, leaned her head against the rail and looked out at greenish water splashing on a beach. It wasn’t a beach she wanted to play on. It was too cold. Behind her she heard her mother slamming pots around in the kitchen. Boy she was mad about something this time.

This was stupid. They weren’t supposed to go anywhere without Ryan when her daddy wasn’t home. But they had. And it was already boring.

Rayne got to her feet and wandered into the kitchen. “Is this our house now?” she questioned her mother unhappily, “because I don’t like it.”

“It’s a perfectly nice house,” her mother said with that fake bright voice that meant it really wasn’t but they were supposed to pretend it was. She put plates down on the table and added without looking up, “And it’s just like a little vacation, that’s all. Just you and me. We’ll have fun.”

Her hands on her hips, Rayne stared at her, thought about it, and demanded, “Can I call Daddy? Because I don’t think this is much fun. There’s nothing to do.”

Her mother sat down on the other side of the little round table, didn’t even look at her own sandwich, and said, “Daddy’s working right now. Eat your lunch.”

Not in the daytime he wasn’t working, Rayne knew that much. But it might not be day where he was. She eyed her mother again, who wasn’t eating the lunch anyway and didn’t look like she felt very good. Was it the new baby, she wondered?

Snatching up her plate, her mother dumped it in the sink with a big crash and a hard tapping sound like her rings hitting something.

Then she leaned back, looking outside like she was going to cry but she didn’t. Rainie waited, worried now, and put her arms around her. “It’s ok Mommy,” she whispered. Her mother hugged her, almost too tight. “Of course it’s ok sweetie. Go play with the toy box for a few minutes.”

That dumb toy box. Rayne stomped upstairs, went into the room, and it was the littlest bedroom she had ever seen. She didn’t like that stupid bunny her mother bought; it was a baby toy. But there was a computer on the desk, and she knew how to use it a little bit.

Listening for her mother, and she didn’t hear anything, she settled down in the chair, turned on the computer and thought about it. She clicked on the email and slowly, one letter at a time, typed in the address, then the text.

Hi Daddy how are you. I’m bored and mommy is sick so come home.

Pine Lake - Friday evening

Ryan pulled up hard next to the lake house, running the tires into soft ground, slammed out and stood there looking at the place.

He’d gotten the call early in the morning, before he was more than half awake. Cooper, in a mood like a man with a nasty hangover and demanding to know if Ryan knew where his wife was since he hadn’t been able to reach her. Taken completely off guard, Ryan stalled, claimed he was on his way over, and carefully pressed him for anything he should know, suspecting there’d been an argument, a confrontation of some kind and Beth had simply decided not to answer the phone. Cooper turned cold and uncommunicative, almost snarling, “I expect you to do your job and your job is to keep track of her. That’s it. If you can’t do that, I’ll hire someone who can.”

She hadn’t just turned off the phone though. She’d taken the little girl and left the house. No word. Nothing. It had taken Ryan the better part of the day and many awkward phone calls to find her. He was tired, angry, and worried.

He had expected her to hole up in someplace familiar, but she hadn’t. Leaning hard on a friend of hers in the design business -- he'd tried Gayl first but got nowhere -- finally got him an address, and Ryan stood outside the place, took a quick look around and shook his head. Right on a main road, no fence…at least it backed to the lake. Lady, you are not going to outrun me, he thought, and strode on up to the door.

Beth threw open the door – he’d bet she hadn’t even set the alarm – and stood there looking at him. “Go home,” she told him flatly.

Ryan planted his feet, crossed his arms and studied her. Something had happened between the two of them; he knew her so well by now, he could see it, see it in her eyes and in her mouth. “That’s not going to happen Beth. I’m coming in, or you’re leaving with me. Your choice.” For a moment he thought she was going to argue the point, but she shrugged and stepped aside. “Come on in then.”

He knocked mud off his boots, pushed past her, closed and locked the door and turned to find she’d walked away into the middle of a big room overlooking the lake. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ryan demanded, making an effort to keep his voice down. The little girl had to be around here somewhere.

“Leave me alone, Ryan,” she replied, looking out at the dark water, her back to him. The anger and concern, long damned day, rose up in his throat. “I can’t leave you alone! This is my job! Cooper called me – Beth…what’s going on?”

“What do you want me to say?” she suddenly shouted. “That you were right? I don’t know what’s going on! I can’t even get away by myself!”

She opened the door and went out into the cold night and paced down the length of a deck, stopping to look back at him when he followed her. He was completely uncertain how to handle this. Yeah, guess they’d had a fight, and it didn’t stretch his imagination to figure out what it was about. Ryan’s anger bottomed out leaving nothing but aching frustration.

“Hey,” he started, quietly, putting his hand on her arm, “you can’t run away from this. You have to face the man. Go back and talk to him and decide what you want to do.”

Beth drew the back of her hand across her eyes, but when she looked up at him, he didn’t see tears. Loss and pain, but no tears. “I’m sorry about your job,” she told him. “That was…I wasn’t thinking..”

Cold wind sliced through his sweater. It was too cold out here, too cold for him, too cold for her. Ryan hesitated, started to suggest they go back in, but she didn’t seem to want to move. He reached out, wrapped his arms around her, felt her shiver.

“I’ll be here,” he promised quietly, holding on, determined to keep holding on. She knew how he felt, and Ryan held onto that. She might deny it, but she kept him as close as he intended to keep her. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: Rising Above Chapter 7

Chapter 37 - South Beach - Black Ice

2008-12-26T14:00:00.019-05:00

Paris – Hotel Astor Saint Honore ~ 11 Rue d’Astorg: Saturday morning

It might have been the light that woke her, or some kind of jet-lagged confusion, or that familiar morning queasiness, but it was early, whatever hour it was at home, it was early in Paris. Cooper lay warm and close, still sleeping, his left arm thrown over her, his head pillowed on her shoulder. “I have to get up,” Beth whispered. He stirred and murmured, “Getting up with you then…damn…too early…”

She had seen very little of the hotel the night before. While Cooper ordered an elaborate breakfast she didn’t feel like eating, Beth strolled out on the balcony off the suite and gazed out at an overcast Paris morning. Four stories down someone walked across the lawn at the back of the hotel, arranging flowers, moving a chair, probably setting up for breakfast. For a second she thought she saw someone with red hair and broad shoulders passing by down there, and her heart jumped.

The door opened behind her, soft footsteps approaching on the balcony. “See something interesting out there?”

Startled out of her reverie, she jumped, and Cooper put his hands on her shoulders and teased softly, “Now that’s not good. Did you forget I was here?”

His hair was still damp; that bathtub was easily big enough for both of them, and pouring the warm water over his shoulders and long hair while he lay back between her legs, looking up at her, pulling her down into that deep, heated, very wet and demanding kiss, her hands sliding down his chest, stomach, taking him…so much in love with this man..never mind how hard it was to keep her hands off him...”I am completely obsessed and in love with you, and I don’t think there’s any medication for Coop fever.”

He ran his hand up her bare thigh, clasped her waist, placed one gentle kiss on her neck. “If there was, I wouldn’t let you take it. Come on in baby. It’s chilly out here. Room service should be here with breakfast in a few minutes.”

She lay back down on the unmade bed, pulling her thoughts together, this would be a good time when the familiar buzz of Cooper’s cell phone broke into the silence. He smiled at her a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought I’d turned that off; I don’t know who would be calling me now – “and then stopped once he picked up the phone and glanced at the ID. “Wyatt? Now why – I’d better take this, Beth.”

Drawing a quiet breath, Beth stretched, groggy, blissful, drifting. “Hey Wyatt, what’s going on?” Cooper spoke into the phone. He walked around the bed, grinned at her. “Wait a minute, no, no everything’s fine.”

“Wyatt she’s here; yeah she’s right here. I’m looking right at her. She flew in last night and surprised me…sure Ryan came with her.” She sat up, focusing now. Why would Wyatt be asking about her, and about Ryan?

Uneasy, she waited until Cooper laughingly finished the call, shaking his head. “Why is Wyatt looking for me?” she asked.

Cooper was still smiling, amused, and he shrugged, “He’s just checking in on you again. He couldn’t reach you and got worried.”

Again? “Coop,” Beth questioned carefully, “what do you mean ‘again’? I haven’t heard from Wyatt at all. Not once.” Room service knocked on the door, and Cooper opened it, distracted, obviously taken aback. “He must have been busy with school.”

At this rate she was never going to find a good time, and, staring at the food, she knew she’d probably throw it up if she ate it. Even the coffee smelled off. Wyatt’s call bothered her too. What had he done? Driven all the way to Oceanside to ‘check’ on her? And why now if he had been too busy to bother about it before?

Cooper was eating hungrily – she wondered how many hours it had been since he’d last eaten, probably long before he went out on stage last night -- but between shoveling it down he asked, “Aren’t you going to eat? Do you want something else?”

She had a rather silly speech planned; decided to drop it and just go for it before anything else happened. “Umm…Coop, there’s another reason I’m here, apart from missing you.” He put the fork down, his expression uncertain. “Is something wrong?”

“Not a thing. You’re going to be a father again, that’s all.” Beth sat back, not looking at the food on her plate, waiting, trying not to crack a smile.

“You want to repeat that?” All right, not quite ten seconds, but just as she’d anticipated, he sounded stunned and cautious, not quite sure if he’d heard her correctly.

Beth looked up and across the table at him, trying for a poker face and giving up. “Sure I’ll repeat it. I’m pregnant, Coop. I wanted to tell you in person. It was a long way to come for a short sentence so you better be happy about it.”

He continued to gaze at her long past her comfort level, then without speaking, swung out of the chair. A chill ran down her spine; was it possible Ryan was right, that she would rapidly become an encumbrance, and may already be one? Cooper tucked her close, gently playing with the laces on the back of her corset, loosening them, one at a time. “I told you I was going to keep you barefoot and pregnant,” he told her quietly. “But you don’t need a whole sentence. You know what I want to hear you say.”

She reached up, brushing his neck with one hand, slipping the other into the waistband of his sweats. “What?” “I want,” Cooper breathed as he removed the last lace, “to hear you say my name.”

Paris - Thursday night

Beth smoothed the skirt of her dress, which was already uncomfortably tight, sighed and turned to Cooper. He emerged from the bathroom in the suite still dragging his fingers through his hair. “What is this thing tonight?” she asked him.

“Business,” Cooper absently responded, propping his foot on a chair to yank at his boot. “I wouldn’t go if it was social.”

“That’s why,” he finished, straightening, “we’re going early. I’ll be surprised if more than two or three people are there now. We go in, make an appearance, and get out.”

She had only one night left with him, and the last place she wanted to spend it was at some club. There would be other nights though, plenty of other nights; it didn’t matter. “Have I ever met any of them?”

Cooper grinned, pulled her into his arms, his skin warm, muscles flexing slightly as he tightened his grip and laughed, “No, and you don’t need to get to know them; you just relax and let me work it for half an hour, then I’m bringing you right back here.”

Restaurant Vue sur la Parc

The place was much smaller than she’d expected, tucked between cafes, apartment buildings, and another park. Streetlights twinkled down the length of an avenue that twisted into a sharp turn as it approached the river.

Cooper had been right – the upper floor was almost deserted. Beth settled into a chair, a little curious about the people she had never met and didn’t need to know. More than business had been exchanged sometime in the past, she thought dryly.

Like all of the women who fell into that category, they were beautiful. And, like most of them, they avoided her. Restless and unusually uneasy, she got up, walked around the table looking for something to do, even considered wandering downstairs, but that would draw this out even longer since Coop would go looking for her. Let him take care of this; it’s no different from any other time.

“What are you drinking?” Rafe…how long had he been standing there? “Water with rocks dissolved in it,” she replied, shaking the glass, still focused on the blonde who seemed determined to crawl under her husband’s shirt. “Next time I think I’ll skip the rocks.”

Rafe eased into a chair and laughed. “You’re drinking mineral water? What are you, the designated driver? Do you want me to get you something better?” It would be out soon enough; he may as well know. “No thanks. I’m pregnant. Nasty water is what it’s going to be for a while.”

She should have expected it. Rafe sat back and looked at her, eyes narrowing. “Right now you’re supposed to say congratulations,” Beth pointed out, an edge to her voice.

Rafe glanced across the floor. The blonde in particular kept touching Cooper’s arm and running her hand down his back. He seemed uncomfortable, stiff, but so far he hadn’t moved away from her. Sexual fantasy was, after all, a big part of the package; making them believe that if only they had the opportunity, the sensuality that exploded out of his music would be directed at them personally.

“Friendly guy,” Rafe commented after watching them in silence for a long minute. “Do you know who she is?”

Cooper finally took a deliberate step back. He turned in her direction, rocked back on the heels of his boots and made an obvious attempt to watch the table and listen to the women at the same time. Beth could hear scraps of the conversation, Coop’s distracted “Yeah right uh no what was that? No I can’t do that, no private parties sorry.”

Somewhat relieved and equally distracted, she responded to Rafe, “What did you say?” “I asked if you know who she is,” he repeated.

“Don’t start with me Rafe,” Beth warned. “Coop knows a lot of people I don’t know.” She might be wrong about any previous relationship. Even if she was right, Cooper didn’t seem to enjoy the attention now. “Do you?” he persisted.

Reluctantly, Beth looked at them again, and admitted, “No, I don’t.”

Turning his back now on the women, Cooper no longer even pretended to listen to them. He muttered an excuse she couldn’t hear and started to approach the table, composure beginning to slip.

Rafe stood up, tossed a couple of francs on the table, and aimed his eyes at her with an impact like a bolt from a crossbow. “Maybe you ought to find out. Congratulations.”

Paris - Friday Morning

“Your flight leaves in about an hour,” Cooper glanced out the door of the hotel and then back, clasping her hand loosely in his. “The limo should be here soon. Slim’s got some paperwork I have to sign but it should only take a few minutes. Are you going to wait for me here?”

In the hotel lobby? Her anxiety level was already off the roof at the thought of leaving, and sitting around in the lobby, well she wasn’t going to do that, nor did she want to pace around the suite. And there was Ryan, hunched over in an overstuffed chair, waiting for her. She glanced at him – the human reminder that her time here was almost over. “I think I’ll walk across the street to the park.”

Cooper hesitated, following her gaze, directing a long, steady look at Ryan. Ryan met it, shifting his weight in the chair. Beth could hear the clink of dishes from the hotel restaurant behind them but the room was otherwise silent. The two men continued to watch each other. “Cooper?” she said, trying to break in. He absently responded, “Yeah baby?”

“I said I’m going across the street.” He ran his fingers across her cheek, lifted her chin. “Don’t go far. I want you right back here.” As if she intended to run down the street and hide. “You can always find me Coop.”

Cooper shot another look at Ryan. “Ten minutes,” he told him.

Ryan took a step toward them, stopped, then in a quiet voice responded, “She’ll be here.”

Parc de Quatre Fontaines

Picking her way across wet stone – the heels were going to have to go and soon – Beth said to Ryan, “I have to get back in a few minutes. Are you going to keep track of the time?” He mumbled something that sounded like yes, followed with a clearer warning to watch her step.

She strolled away from him, trying to admire the fountains although nothing much came to mind except they were large and wet. You need to deal with this…what had happened…and do it before the trip back, no matter how hard it was going to be. When Ryan stepped up behind her, she drew a breath, turned so quickly she very nearly bumped into him. The enormous, almost overwhelming physical attraction, the heat from his body, the quiet deep running emotion, still there.

"Sit down," Ryan ordered. "You shouldn't be walking around in those heels."

She sat on the rim of the fountain, the stone cool and damp, and smiled. “You know I’m pregnant, don’t you?” He shrugged, “I wasn’t sure who you were trying to hide it from. I knew it. After the other night, your body, yeah I knew it.”

“I wasn’t hiding it,” Beth snapped. “And I don’t want to talk about that. I want to clear up what happened that night.” Her irritation seemed to goad something similar in Ryan. Eyes narrowing, he shot back, “I thought nothing happened. You cleared that up before we left.”

“Ryan, will you just let me get this out? I’m not in a great mood – “ She paused, enormously tempted to simply walk back to the hotel; but it was THERE. Huge. “All right,” she continued, “I’m sorry I let it go as far as it did. We can't...not again. That’s all.”

He sat there quietly, leaves dropping on them, sat there so long she was beginning to wonder if he was going to reply. “I told you not to worry about that. You're still a married woman,” Ryan eventually replied. “It’s not my style to do something like that, not yours either. It won’t happen again, not while you're married.”

He was right about that, it wouldn’t, but the first part of that phrase stunned her. Still married? As in that might end any minute now? Stung, uneasy, Beth demanded, “You haven’t been sitting around with Rafe comparing notes on my marriage, have you? Laying bets on how soon it’s going to end? You're not going to say anything about what happened. Ryan?”

A jet of water blew spray across his face, sparkling on his skin, the faint freckles across his nose. Those freckles were endearing. Ryan leaned forward, shook his head and smiled, “That’s one thing I definitely didn’t do – sit down with Rafe and talk. And Beth, I can wait. I'm not saying a damned thing to anybody about what happened. You know it and I know it. I said it before and I'll say it again, I can wait."

"Ryan, that's not...I'm not asking you to wait for me. Don't tell me you're doing that."

Digging one high heel into the soft ground and destroying a bunch of red flowers in the process, Beth got up, walked across the grass and back onto the pavement without looking back at him. She could hear him following, feel him close behind her.

As she started out of the park toward the street, there was Cooper, looking annoyed.

Had it been ten minutes already? “I was just coming back,” Beth began.

“Maybe I need to buy somebody a watch,” he replied, glancing at Ryan, then leaned down and brushed her mouth with his. “We need to go.”

The limo pulled up in a flurry of autumn leaves. Ryan, who had been hanging behind, walked past them, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground in front of him.

His expression thoughtful, Cooper watched Ryan stride toward the limo. He was picking up something he didn’t like, not so much from his wife, but definitely from Ryan. He couldn’t deal with it right now, but when the tour was over, he was going to reconsider this arrangement.

“Call me as soon as you get back,” Cooper told her, turning away from Ryan. “And Beth…I love you baby. Thank you for doing this, coming here. I needed to see you.”

“I needed to see you just as much,” she whispered. “I love you too, Coop.”

Oceanside - Stanfield Residence - Saturday night

“No I’d rather wait to get Rayne,” Beth told Ryan, almost dragging her body through the door, the long flight from Paris mercifully behind her. It had been accomplished in silence for the most part, which hadn’t made it any easier either. Ryan steadfastly dug into magazines he didn’t appear to actually read; and she’d dozed fitfully. “She’ll be asleep anyway and I’m too tired to make that drive.”

She started down the hall, considering a hot bath and her bed, if she didn’t conk out in the tub, when she heard Ryan tell her to stop. He was still by the front door, luggage at his feet, staring intently around. “Wait,” he ordered. “Don’t go in there yet.”

Now what? Exhausted and irritable, Beth objected, “Ryan, I’m sure it’s fine and I’m dead on my feet.”

He walked directly into the kitchen, grabbed a coffee cup and held it up. “You haven’t been drinking coffee for a month now,” Ryan pointed out, looking at the cup, out the window, then back at the cup. “This wasn’t here when we left.”

She was too tired to think about a coffee cup; maybe she’d used it to get a drink of water; it was a week ago and she didn’t care. “I don’t know, Ryan. What difference does it make?"

He ignored her and strode quickly down the hall toward the heavy glass doors to her bedroom. Something about the intensity of his focus began to worry her. Something was wrong.

Beth backed up, returned to the foyer, on edge, looking up the staircase into the deep shadow of the second floor. Was someone up there?

Ryan leaped up the stairs and switched on the lights, all of them, light flaring and reflecting off the framed array of gold albums hanging on the wall in the upper landing. “Who has a key to this place?” he called down to her.

She couldn’t think clearly. “I guess…I guess the housekeeper does, but that’s scheduled. She wouldn’t have been here. Maybe Cooper’s parents but I’m not sure about that. And Wyatt.”

Ryan ran back down the stairs, unlocked the back door and started out into the night. Beth hesitated a moment then followed close behind him. “Wyatt called the day after we got to Paris,” she offered, at his back since he kept going. “He probably came in the house and looked around.”

All the way to the balustrade, and she was still wondering what was going on, trying to figure out what he was so concerned about. It didn’t make any sense. He was staring down the length of the patio toward the hot tub. In a hard, cold voice, Ryan responded, “He had help then. And they ‘inspected’ the bathtub, the fireplace and the bed sheets.”

Her tension eased but she still hung back a little behind him; maybe it was being pregnant again, whatever it was, she’d been at least momentarily frightened, and nothing was going to get past Ryan. “Well then he brought a girl with him and decided to go for it. Why is that a big deal?”

Ryan shook his head and turned to her, studying her, finally speaking quietly, “You still don’t understand what you’re dealing with. Who you are. Who you married. Remember Lola? Who was the girl? Does she work for one of the tabloids? Free lance who could sell shots of the two of them together? Take a blurred shot and claim it’s Cooper for the really big money? A dozen other scenarios including some a hell of a lot worse than photos -- he can’t do that. Not here. It’s a security risk.”

Her heart sank. She felt stupid, emotional, drained, and torn. Wyatt had so many problems, she didn’t want to pile on any more, but Cooper wouldn’t like it. Ryan was right. Cooper definitely wouldn’t like it. “Ryan – “ she began again, deeply unhappy.

“I’m going to do my job Beth,” he interrupted. “But nothing’s happening tonight. Go to bed.”

Pausing by her door, Beth turned and looked back at Ryan who stood by the balustrade looking down at nothing, wind blowing his hair, as if he were lost in thought. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. Ryan...

--------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: Rising Above Chapter 6

Chapter 36 - South Beach - Cancelling It Out

2008-12-01T00:03:00.049-05:00

Oceanside – Stanfield Residence

Beth took Ryan’s hand, felt him tighten his fingers around hers then slip his hand up to her wrist, but he didn’t otherwise move.

She let her fingertips slide along his while he held his hand still, palm open, inviting the touch, so close to the unbuttoned jeans where a line of dark red hair arrowed downward. She pulled her hand back. This could not happen…

“Ryan,” she whispered, heart hammering so fast she could barely breathe, “we…we need to talk.”

He took a step closer, so close she could feel his warm breath, but he held back, didn’t touch her. “I know. Tell me. Tell me whatever you need to say.”

Taking a deliberate but unsteady step back… and what on earth was she going to tell him anyway? I want to take you to bed but I’m not going to do it? I care about you so much, too much, it would be more than sex as bad as that would be...And oh god she just couldn’t breathe or think right now with him standing there like that, firelight glowing on his body, his expression intense and quiet. Waiting. But there was no longer any doubt what he wanted; all she had to do was look down. “I don’t know how to say what…what I need to say,” she stammered.

Ryan stepped closer again, took her arms in his hands, the gesture firm and deliberate. It wasn't going to stop there. She knew it. And did not move. Very quietly, gently, he replied, “Then let me start.”

University - The Garage Club

Tired, depressed, frustrated and angry, Marc allowed Dylan to talk him into going out almost as soon as he dumped his suit case in the living room. “Your dad’s been looking for you,” Dylan told him. “What’s going on? You’d better not mess with that woman…I mean come on. That’s big trouble.”

“Yeah I bet he is looking for me. He can keep looking.” And, Marc added angrily, “I’m not doing anything – she wouldn’t do that anyway. She’s not like that.” They sat in silence while Dylan kept looking like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. The bartender really liked crime stuff. The tv over the bar constantly blared cold crime, old crime, new crime, bizarre crime, hot crime. Strange shit.

While Marc contemplated whether he wanted to hang out or go home, the show flashed a shot of a mansion, a woman in some kind of cocktail dress, and then a familiar face. His cousin Gabe.

“…yesterday reported that her husband was missing. Speculation is swirling about a love triangle with a woman in another of the city’s prominent families. Mrs. Lothario has accused Amanda Alcaide of playing a role in her husband’s disappearance and has suggested foul play. Police have been interviewing…”

Stunned, Marc tried to follow what they were saying over the noise and the music. “Geez,” Dylan commented, “what’s going on? You think something happened to him?”

Embarrassed, always something idiotic going on with his relatives, he muttered, “Gabe? I couldn’t get that lucky.”

Marc heard laughter from the other side of the steel grid between the bar and the pool table. Somebody made an obscene remark. Jason, Jett, Lacey and Wyatt were all over there – Lacey wouldn’t laugh, and neither Jason nor Jett seemed to be paying attention. Wyatt…it had to be Wyatt. So the man thought it was funny; something else about his family that the Stanfields could ridicule.

Shoving back from the bar, Marc stepped around the steel column and into the cage. Lacey greeted him absently. Wyatt glanced at him and then back at the table . “You think that’s funny?” Marc demanded.

As if uncertain Marc was even speaking to him, Wyatt looked up, regarded him silently for a few seconds before replying, “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah I’m talking to you. What’s so damned amusing about my cousin disappearing?” Marc dimly heard Dylan call his name but he ignored him.

Wyatt tossed down the stick. Behind him, Jason and Jett quit playing and moved in. Lacey was staring at him as if she thought he was crazy. Glaring, Wyatt growled at him, “Get your head out of your ass and think about what you’re saying! Are you some kind of fucking idiot?”

Yeah right, he was the idiot. Not this time. Marc snarled, “You want to hear something funny? I’ll tell you something funny. It’s real funny that the big rock star can’t hold onto his own woman.”

Wyatt stared at him, something in his blue eyes flickering. Low, intense, he demanded, “What the hell are you talking about?”

That got through to him; but as soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of regret hit Marc. Stupid; what a stupid thing to let fly…that wasn’t the way he should have handled it. He hit the ball out of the park, all right, that was obvious, but broke every window doing it. Everyone, all of them, even Dylan, lined up behind Wyatt and eyeing him as if he were insane. Dangerously insane.

He drew a deep breath. Maybe the best thing to do was get out of here now; let them all think he was drunk.

Watching Marc walk away, deeply uneasy, Wyatt tried to think. He’d promised his father he’d check on Beth; he hadn’t done it. He hadn’t even thought about it or anything else since Bailey. But if something had happened…and how had Marc gotten mixed up in it? As crazy as the guy was acting, what he’d said worried him. This wasn’t good. ”I’ve got to go,” he announced. “Later.”

Marc almost made it to the door when someone called his name. The hole in the pit of his stomach widened and swallowed him. She was smiling at him; dressed in some ridiculous outfit of course, and probably here to hit on men half her age. Maybe people he knew. Why didn’t she go away and never come back? If anyone ought to vanish, it ought to be her. Marc raked her up and down, walked past her and left without speaking.

Jett, who had come up with his brother to stand with Wyatt in case that bizarre exchange escalated into real trouble, was studying the woman with open admiration.

“Who’s the cougar?” he asked Dylan.

“The cougar,” Dylan replied quietly, “is Marc’s mother.”

Bay View, North Metro - Stewart Street

Gabe curled up on the bed – it was hard and uncomfortable but a very small price to pay for anonymity, and with any luck he’d upgrade soon. A few months and he’d be back in the money, in a better place, more his style. He switched on the tv and tried to relax. He went over what he’d done, searching for holes in the plan, but his thoughts kept returning to that damned lake house.

Leaving like that had been more difficult than he had anticipated. Nothing had changed. He had wasted time hanging around. His plans were in place, cash in his pocket, the few clothes he needed packed. He certainly hadn’t written a note…so why the hell had he burned precious minutes doing nothing productive?

But he had walked back and stood in the bedroom doorway for a long time watching Amanda sleep. All that long blonde hair spread out over the pillow.

She had looked peaceful, a condition that would rapidly change when she woke up and realized he’d left.

“Come on,” he whispered to himself. Don’t start getting soft over a woman. Look at them, every single one of them determined to put his balls in a vice. Not going to happen.

He walked around the bed, restless, then sat back down, glanced at the tv again. Mercury Rising in Paris with record crowds – not surprising. Out of the four men in the band, two were messed up, one was a naïve dreamer, and then there was Stanfield himself…for a smart man, he certainly had surprising blind spots. Then Gabe drew a quick, hard breath. What the fuck? His own face…Tessa…

“Damn,” he swore softly. The bitch had, once again, surprised him. Did anyone seriously believe that Lady A had murdered him and what, buried him out in Cam’s back yard? This complicated his situation. As if he didn't already have problems with people looking for him...and now this?

He punched the remote, switching it off, and paced out onto the balcony. At least the place was in the city, an environment that suited him better than hanging out in a hopped up cabin on a lake. He could move around here. Survive.

Amanda….No. He couldn’t deal with it now. No way. Not this time. No heroics this time. Ditch all of them and don’t look back. Don’t even think about it. It’s done. It’s all done.

Oceanside - Stanfield Residence

Another storm woke her before the alarm, thunder, pounding rain…not a good omen. Crawling out of bed, Beth crept a few feet away from the bed and tried to separate reality from dreams from fantasy from whatever the hell had happened.

It didn’t matter. It was nothing. Depending on your point of view…and since it was her point of view, she firmly stuck it into the nothing category. She couldn’t think about it. Would not think about it. Oh god there was no way to make this 'nothing'.

She started to make the bed, a tangle of expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. Damn it, she’d argued with him as the night faded into dawn. That had to cancel out part of what had happened – as if this was an algebra equation --

A small voice startled her. “Mommy?”

Rayne…her heart literally lurched in her breast. Cooper’s child, like the one she was carrying now. Beth dragged her thoughts back out of the sheets, let the bed stay unmade, who cared, and smiled at her. “Honey you are just getting too big. How’d you get down here?”

“You’re going to get to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a few days,” she told her daughter, swinging her in her arms. “How would that be?”

Rayne giggled happily, “They got fish!”

They got fish…. Rainie liked the fish tank, as long as she didn’t grab the things and eat them…Holding her tight, Beth whispered, “Let’s get a bath then. Mommy needs one more than you do.”

Her body aching, sore, tired, at least both of them were bathed and dressed, Beth carried Rayne upstairs. Ryan had to be up; she could hear the TV; and he was up. Sprawled out on the couch, looking at it.

He didn’t even look up at her. She rocked Rainie in her arms, watching him. The early morning news...someone was missing. Gabe? Gabe was missing? It floated through, ridiculous, as if that man had been murdered and by Amanda Alcaide? “That’s crazy,” Beth remarked, mostly to herself, still focused on Ryan.

Ryan finally stopped looking at the TV and turned his gaze on her. He looked drained, tired, but then she probably did too. “That whole family is crazy,” he returned.

He stood, walked around her, picked up Rainie and started walking out of the room. Over his shoulder, his voice brusque, he said, “We need to go. And I’ll carry the baby downstairs. I did hear what you said last night about leaving her outside the store. I can admit when I’m wrong.”

So he was just going to walk out like that?

Beth followed him, watching him hold Rainie tight against his chest, careful with her, as he strode down the stairs. “Ryan, we have to talk about last night, about what I said.”

“I remember what you said,” Ryan’s deep voice floated up the staircase. “I remember everything that happened and it was a hell of a lot more than talk. Seems like my memory is better than yours.”

Trailing after them, Beth waited until Ryan put Rayne on the carpet, she reached out, drew back, then desperately, miserably, reached out again. “I don’t want you to quit.”

He stood there looking at her for less than 5 seconds, turned and walked out the back door toward the beach. Now, that was just not going to work. If he was going to do that…between her exhaustion and confusion, anger ripped through. “Hey!” Beth called after him. “Ryan!”

He didn’t stop immediately, walking all the way to the end of the patio before he turned back and faced her. “I’m here,” he said finally. “I’m not going to quit. Something more you want to say before we go?”

The most important thing she had to say, yes there was something, and it hurt to say it. It was going to be a lie, and her heart ached. It had been more than sex and he knew it and she knew it, but it couldn't happen again. “Ryan, nothing happened last night,” she told him, insisting on it. “No one can know. Nothing happened. Nothing.”

He stood there, meeting her gaze with his own, hard and steady. “Nothing,” he repeated finally with a short brief incredulous shake of his head. “Nothing? Nothing covers a lot of territory. Something did happen, Beth. Something I'm not going to easily forget and you won't either. I'm not going to say anything about it if that's what you want. I'm not convinced you know what you want, but I can wait. For a while. That’s it. Let’s go.”

------------------------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: Stage Chapter 27

Chapter 35 - South Beach - Heures de Vérité

2008-11-23T11:34:00.085-05:00

Oceanside - Stanfield Residence - 9 a.m.

For the first time in a week, the constant rain blew out, leaving a watery sky and unusually cool air for the time of year. Flowers, Beth thought, tired even though she’d slept late. Pick a bunch of flowers and bring them in before another storm rips them apart.

No sooner had she started to pick them when the nausea hit again. She stood up, fighting it, ignoring Ryan who came out of the house and immediately demanded if she was ok. No…of course I’m not ok…“I’m fine,” she lied, trying not to puke on the flowers.

"You need to go a doctor,” he insisted, up in her face. “You’ve been like this for almost two months.”

Pretty funny that he’d been counting…“I need to go to the store today, Ryan. Not a doctor. Later this afternoon. Quit worrying about me.”

They started into the house when it hit her again. This time Ryan moved in fast, insisting quietly, his voice low, almost a murmur, “I’m not going to let you fall down out here. Come on, take my arm.”

Minor mercy that she could do that, even though the contact wasn’t entirely comfortable. He grabbed her arm just above the wrist. “Medical issues are not part of your job,” Beth told him weakly, her own voice not much above a whisper.

Still quiet, he said, “You’re my job. Anything that concerns you is my job. Let me get you inside.”

The warmth of the house felt good. She picked up Rainie – a big job now, she was getting so heavy – when the doorbell rang. “Will you get that?” she called out. He would anyway, rarely letting her answer the door unless he was certain who was out there. He opened the door, and then immediately walked outside, shutting it behind him.

That was strange. Setting Rainie back down, she ran a hand through her tangled hair and went out in search of Ryan. A man’s voice outside, loud and familiar. What on earth was going on out there.

Standing right out there in front of her door …Marc. Marc? Stunned, she stood there, speechless, staring at him. Whatever he was doing here, he was now engaged in some kind of standoff with Ryan. Neither of them seemed to even notice she was there.

“You’ve got a long way to go before you can order me out of here!” Marc was standing near the end of the stone walk, imposing, defiant, arrogant. “Master of this place? In your fucking dreams – and you’d better keep your hands off her! I know what’s going on even if Stanfield doesn’t have a clue!”

“Get out,” Ryan told him. Low and even. His back was to the door, full guard stance.

“Yeah? You think you scare me?” Marc laughed. “I’ve got 250 pound linebackers trying to take my head off every week! You don’t scare me.”

They were yelling about her? Was Marc out of his mind?

“And you’re damned good at dancing away from them,” Ryan retorted. “You’re not going to dance away from me.”

All right, this was crazy. She stepped out and demanded, “What are you doing here, Marc? What’s going on?” The insinuation was ugly and she was in no mood to indulge him.

Faced with that, Marc looked almost embarrassed. He blinked, long green eyes still alight, looked down and away from her, but in an abashed voice replied, “I needed to talk to you.”

Ryan stepped up close beside her, and she glanced at him briefly, then turned her attention back to Marc. She didn’t feel well; she didn’t want to talk to him; and the exchange she’d overheard disturbed her. “Then call me and ask if you can stop by,” she said, sharp and colder than she had intended. “This is not a good time.”

Marc gave her a long, assessing look, examining her face. He was so like Tony, yet different of course. A strange male mix of Tony, Rafe and even Gabe.

“If you need me,” he told her quietly, Tony’s deep voice in another man’s body, “call me anytime. From anywhere.”

Behind her, Ryan exhaled hard. Beth ignored him for the moment. Marc’s accusation lay there in her mind. Dark. Heavy. Freighted with imagery she knew she had indulged. Marc though…Marc was acting as if he was guard dog number two. Guarding against dog number one. “Well thank you, Marc, but I’m fine. My husband,” she said, placing deliberate emphasis on the word, “takes extremely good care of me. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hesitated, then shrugged and walked away, not without shooting a final hot stare at Ryan, who met it, impassive.

“That kid,” Ryan muttered under his breath, moving close, shoulder and thigh brushing against her, and this time she didn't move away from that contact, “needs to stay the hell away from you.”

Oceanside - Beach Shop - 3:00 p.m.

Leaving Ryan outside with Rainie – he could babysit for a couple of minutes – Beth went into the convenience store and looked around. She didn’t see anyone she knew. If Ryan had seen anyone he knew, she wouldn’t be in here by herself. And the purchase she wanted to make was private.

As if she had any privacy…the woman behind the cash register was giving her a long look. If she recognized her and said anything to anyone, well it would be bad. Really bad. The prospect of Cooper reading in People or US that his wife was buying a pregnancy test when she hadn’t said anything to him about it…again, very bad.

Stuffing the box under eggs and milk and some items she didn’t even want, burying the thing, she started for the register, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

That accomplished, she turned around, anxious to get back home, and looked up and there he was. Tony. Oh my god…hide the bag, no why are you hiding the bag? What is he doing here?? First Marc and now Tony?

“Hi Tony,” she said, dropping the bag at her feet and trying to come up with something else to say.

He smiled, that same long easy smile. “I didn’t expect to run into you in a place like this. I was looking for some coffee…how are you?”

Looking for coffee in Oceanside. That was a long trip to make to buy coffee. “I’m great.” Pausing, feeling foolish, she added, “I’m sort of in a hurry, but it’s good to see you.”

He looked good, but then he always did. Tired but good. Tony drew a long, deep breath, looking down, then back up at her. “This might seem way out of left field, but have you seen Marc?”

She knew it. There was no way he was out here for any other reason than one of his sons. Marc though...she didn't want to get into that whole strange encounter.

“He sort of dropped by this morning,” Beth admitted, deciding to leave it at that. “I don’t know why. I don’t know where he went. I’m sorry.” Through the open door behind him she saw Ryan staring at them; this could turn bad fast – two men from that family in the same day, Ryan wouldn’t like it. Cooper wouldn’t like it.

“What do you mean he dropped by?” Tony’s voice rose. “When did he drop by?”

Ryan left Rainie sitting on the deck behind him and shoved through the door, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes. Extremely uneasy, Beth said, “This morning. Tony, he was there for just a few minutes and didn’t say anything. I have no idea where he went. And I have to go.”

His voice rough, on edge, Tony pressed, “You’re not telling me everything. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she responded flatly. “I have to go.” Ryan had moved all the way into the store, glanced briefly at Tony, waited until she started for the door and placed himself firmly between the two of them. Leaving Tony standing there with a confused and frustrated expression on his face and nothing more than what he came in with. Which was pretty much zero.

Her gaze focused on Rayne, sitting out there chewing on her fingers, Beth thought uneasily, completely distracted, that Ryan should not have left her there. She heard him grumble, quietly, very close behind her as she went through the door, “I’ll get her. We’re leaving. Now.”

Oceanside - Stanfield Residence - 11:00 p.m.

Waiting until after she’d put Rainie to bed, putting it off, forcing herself to wait, anticipating, already knowing, but wanting to be sure, Beth washed her hands after finishing the test and tossing it away. And watched the steam from the hot water rise and fog the mirror.

She knew it. Knew it. Not the greatest timing in the world…pretty lousy timing…but it was good. What to do with this though, that was the bigger issue. He was in Europe and would be gone for months, but it couldn’t wait for months, and a phone call…no, not a phone call.

I’m going there, she decided, striding out of the bathroom and through the glass doors, out of the bedroom, down the hall, I’m going there to tell him in person. It was late, but Ryan was probably up guarding something, and she had to inform him she was leaving tomorrow. Couldn’t go without him. And she really didn't want to go without him, not any more.

Beth saw him as soon as she passed the room with the piano and Coop’s guitars, sort of standing around. “Strange day, wasn’t it?” she began, uncertain why Ryan was hanging out in this room. “Thanks for taking care of Marc for me.”

No problem,” he smiled. “That’s what I do.”

Chasing people away, she thought, amused. What a job…still, it had been good to have him here. “I know it’s your job, but I appreciated it.”

This was short notice, but he had to be used to that kind of thing. “I’m going to Paris,” she told him. “I’m packing some things tonight. I’d like to leave tomorrow. Can you take care of that for me?”

Ryan stopped smiling. “Paris?” he echoed. “You’re going to drop in on the tour? You let somebody know you’re coming, didn’t you?”

What did he mean by that? Don’t drop in because you might get a nasty surprise? Or simply don’t bother them? You’re being paranoid, she told herself. He’s just being careful. He doesn’t know anything you don’t know. “No,” Beth replied firmly, “I didn’t and I’m not going to. I don't think I need to buy a ticket. Someone will get me in.”

Putting a smile on her face, she turned away from him. She had a lot to do tonight and that kind of pointless jealousy or suspicion was stupid. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Ryan. Goodnight.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said behind her, his voice quiet, subdued.

Oceanside - Stanfield Residence - 12:30 a.m.

Perhaps this one…Beth turned, studying her reflection in the mirror, running her hands down the curve of her hips and smoothing the dark pink silk of the corset. She smiled. As she’d expected when she’d bought it, the fit and color were flattering. Well they were now…but it was the right choice. Coop would definitely like it.

Music played softly, her husband’s hoarse voice filling the room with his presence, and the song itself brought back such intense and erotic memories.

This room. That bed. His hands and mouth…

Light rain blowing in through open windows while he moved slowly, languorously, over her body, those 4 inch black stilettos still strapped to her feet.

…the powerful combustion of lust and love burning the room right down to the ground…

So much for the distraction, she thought, hot and shaken with arousal. You’re all dressed up and nowhere to go.

It was really late. Past midnight. Indulging in the luxury of the privacy, the sheer luxury…being able to walk out half dressed or completely undressed without Ryan’s constant presence, Beth clicked open the door and walked out onto the dark patio. She lifted her thick hair off her neck, reveling in the dark and the wind off the ocean. I wish, she mused, we could live here all the time. I love this place…

And then looking out toward the breakers, she saw him. Wading out into the water. Ryan. Wearing nothing at all. Long muscular legs and back, the curve of his spine and hips, he briefly surfaced and stood there, gazing at the horizon, before diving back.

The pent up sexual energy broke like the surf, stunning in its strength. Beth drew in a deep hard breath, oh no you are not going to look at Ryan naked; walk away and walk away fast go inside and go now now now…

Wooden, she forced herself, one step at a time, to turn around and go. Walked back to the door.

Went inside. Shut the door. And stood there, shaking with desire, frustration, anger, guilt - a toxic stew of violent emotion.

A small noise, footsteps outside, maybe he was going back to bed. Why wasn’t he in bed? Did the man ever sleep? What was he doing out there swimming naked anyway? She took another step, slipped, her heels skidding on the tiles, and hit the floor, yelling, “Shit! Damn it!”

Ryan’s voice pounded on her from outside the door. “Beth?”

Staggering to her feet, she didn’t respond. Maybe if she didn’t answer, he’d go away.

It didn’t work. Her silence evidently alarmed him. He pushed open the door, wearing a pair of damp jeans he hadn’t even finished doing up, his skin probably warm and wet under the denim, looking into the darkened bedroom, rapidly assessing, searching for a threat. And finding none. Just her, standing there, looking right back at him.

Their eyes met, locked. The music had stopped. It was very quiet, the fire crackling, soft hush of the waves on the sand. Beth walked slowly across the room, approaching him.

“Ryan…”

--------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER: South Beach Chapter 36

Chapter 34 - South Beach - Breathing Underwater

2008-11-13T13:06:00.101-05:00

Bay View - Camilla's Residence

Staring at the caller ID on the phone with mounting apprehension, Camilla hesitated, waiting for it to roll over into the answering service. It would be the same thing, like the other calls she’d received over the past few days. Some guy with a smooth and polite delivery who might have been selling something but wasn’t. He was looking for something and it wasn’t a date.

She hung up and looked across the small upper deck outside her loft at the subject of the search. Her cousin Gabe. Who sat there, perched on a table, hands loosely clasped, gazing out at nothing.

“You know they’re looking for you,” Camilla pointed out angrily. “And this is getting ugly and I don’t like it.”

Gabe slid stiffly off the sideboard, a rickety piece of furniture that wasn’t meant to hold something as big as Gabe.

“And you can’t just show up here,” Camilla added, “just show up here and sit on things you are going to break what are you doing here anyway?”

Instead of answering like a normal person, Gabe walked across the deck, looked out to the west toward the city, then pulled up a chair and sat down again. He wasn’t even moving normally.

He sure looked like hell, she thought with satisfaction. And for once he wasn’t grinning at her, or at anything else.

“I said,” Camilla continued angrily, sitting across from him, “that you can’t hang around here and what are you doing here?”

“I’m asking myself the same question,” he muttered and shifted uncomfortably on the chair’s wood slats. They did tend to pinch bare legs.

“I’ll be out of here by the end of the week,” Gabe continued. “I’m putting it together, and don’t worry, Cam. Nobody’s going to believe you know a damned thing, not after spending five minutes with you. I need something from you though -- I need to borrow your lake house for a couple of days.”

Camilla drew a sharp breath, briefly covered her face with her hand and tried to think. She didn’t want to be drawn any more deeply into this mess than she already was which was way too deep, but then there was Rafe and if she didn’t cover for Gabe…but still, she’d warned him she wouldn’t.

A car pulled up in front of the house, momentarily scaring the crap out of her, but it moved off with a clatter – garbage man probably. It was Gabe’s fault she was sitting up here jumping over cars and phone calls. Uncertain but angry, she snapped, “No way! You shouldn’t have gotten involved with those people and I told you that even when I didn’t know you were involved with them and why don’t you just leave now?“

“Because I can’t," he said. "I'm working on it."

Gabe persisted. “Come on, Cammie. It’s for three days, max. I don’t need a key, you know that. Nobody but me even remembers you own the damned place.”

Glaring at him, Cam still said nothing. She honestly wasn’t sure she could even find the house again without directions. It had been years since she’d been there but helping out Gabe?

And he abruptly shoved back, stood up, said, “If that’s the way it is, I’ll figure out something else.” And strode away, still moving stiffly.

This did not feel right. If she didn’t help, it might make things worse and not just for Gabe. “Well look Gabe wait a minute –“

“To hell with you,” he replied, walking rapidly down the stairs.

Stupid damned family…Camilla followed, furious, frustrated, worried. “I said wait a minute!” she yelled.

He turned around, didn't walk out the door, and looked back at her, obviously struggling for that notorious cool but he was just about vibrating right in front of her. “I don’t need you, Cam. I’ve taken care of myself my whole life. It would have made things easier but I’ll come up with something else.”

That was not exactly completely totally true since Don had tried but then he was Don and he wasn’t worth much. “Ok,” she relented. “You can go there but that’s it that’s all and you know what Gabe you should not have married Tessa. I told you that and you should have listened to me and things wouldn’t be this bad if you would listen to me.”

Her cousin ran his hand through his hair, glanced down. “You’re right,” he admitted, quiet, even voice. “About that one thing, you’re right.”

“I’m right about more than that and you know it but you and Tony never would listen to me. He went back to that Ginny Pizza when I told him not to do it and look what happened to him and now look what you’ve done. So get out of here and try not to get yourself killed but you hear me, Gabe.”

She paused, brooding on what she wanted to add and whether she ought to say it but decided it had to be said. “If it comes down to it, I’m going to tell them you threw Johnny off the roof and it wasn’t Rafe and I will do it. It was your fault anyway.”

“I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut,” he countered, blue eyes cold. “You were never there, Cammie.“

Always had to be the one who knew everything…it was really irritating. “And I can take care of myself too and you know that so just go and don’t come back here. And if you’re so good at taking care of things then why don’t you get rid of that awful Paolini woman.”

Gabe smiled, pushed through the front door and cut quickly across the front lawn. Camilla didn’t see his car and briefly wondered how he’d even gotten here. “I’ll do my best, Cammie. Bye. And thanks.”

One of those stupid bugs that lived in the plants flew up and buzzed around her ear. Camilla absently slapped at it, watching him leave. There were so many loose ends to this mess, things half unraveled and totally unraveled. She didn’t like Gabe. But there were a lot of people she liked even less, and part of this was her fault. Well she’d wait; something would come up. Something always did.

South Beach

The drive from South Beach past Millwood all the way to Lakeview and Camilla’s old lake house and all the damned way back left Gabe’s back and shoulders aching even more than he’d anticipated. It hadn’t helped that he’d fielded half a dozen calls from Tessa on the way. After tonight, he’d ditch the cell for good.

Get out of here and leave no trace. He wasn’t leaving anything he’d miss, and it was either vanish or risk losing his life. Something he’d definitely miss.

He skirted a stone planter and strode up the walk toward the house Tessa had decided to purchase in her idiotic role as Mrs. Gabe. Cam was certainly right about that – he should have pressed Amanda harder, worked that better. She would be a lot easier to deal with than Chris Paolini’s daughter.

“Oh that’s charming,” Tessa started as soon as she opened the door, studying him, taking her time. “We’re expected at a party tomorrow night. How am I supposed to explain two black eyes? One we could finesse, but two? Who in hell did you piss off this time?”

The room was warm, too warm, humid, and the smell of roses was overwhelming. Uncomfortable and annoyed, Gabe shot back, “You won’t have to bother. I’m not going. I’m out of this arrangement, Tess. I’m here because you left ten damned messages demanding I come. But I’m not staying. Now for the last time, what you do want?”

“We have a contract. I want you to live up to your end of it. Even for you that shouldn’t be too difficult to understand.”

She turned on her high heel and without looking back at him as she walked away, announced, “I have plans for this evening that do not include you. You can go. I’ll let you know what time I’ll need you to come tomorrow.”

What the…Gabe stood there, staring at her as she casually walked away.

No way in hell was she going to dismiss him like that. He was running out of time; shouldn’t even be here. But let that bitch get away with turning him out? I don’t think so, sweetheart. Not me.

Shoving open the first door at the top of the stairs – and he got lucky, luck that had been eluding him lately. It was the right room. And he startled her. Momentarily anyway.

Tessa took a step back, her fleeting unease captured in a bank of mirrors along the wall to her left. She drew that full mouth down slightly in a mocking pout. “What’s the matter? Didn’t get your treat this evening?”

Enraged, but using the anger, cold with it, Gabe let the bedroom close behind him and waited, watching her. For once Tessa seemed off balance. “Pretty little bitch, aren’t you,” he growled. “You do not turn me out. I leave when I’m ready to leave. Do you understand that?”

She folded her arms across her breasts, a swift and defensive gesture. Amusing. Gabe could see her breathing, and breathing hard. Once again, the whole room smelled like roses. “You stupid man,” Tessa laughed. “As if I give a damn what you – “

Moving up against her hard, fast, Gabe pulled her against his body, pressing his hips into her, and lowered his mouth onto her bare shoulder. She shuddered, leaned into him, her lips parting in a gasp.

“Shut up,” he ordered. It was easy. She wanted it rough. She’d get it rough. But she was going to give him what he wanted and any way he wanted it. It wasn't about sex -- her problem if she believed it was. “Tonight you do what I say.”

South Beach - Nick Alcaide's Residence

It had been four days. Four days. Four days of driving all over South Beach looking for Gabe and coming back to her father’s house and watching him watch her. And complain. And pry. What was going on with the clothes? What was going on with Tyler? Amanda gripped the spoon and looked at the bowl of cereal in disgust.

“Morning,” Nick grumbled, pausing in the doorway. On top of everything else, he had started getting up early, a change in his routine which did not appear to agree with him at all. Amanda looked at the granola in the bowl and didn’t answer. He probably didn’t expect an answer.

She shoved the bowl into the dishwasher, trying to ignore Nick. Since he was standing right behind her slurping down coffee and smelling like he hadn’t taken a shower yet, that was difficult to do. Her last day here – she’d had enough of this. She wasn’t certain where she was going to go. If she didn’t find Gabe. If it didn’t work. But somewhere.

Before she could grab the small case she’d been carting around with her, her father moved between her and the front door and took a wide stance.

“Taking a change of clothes to a church picnic, Amanda?” he demanded, his voice sarcastic but hard. “What’s going on? Is this a permanent arrangement? What happened to the place you and Tyler rented?"

Damn it…he wasn’t going to let this go. Amanda straightened up, looked at him and said, “Tyler and I broke up. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about that. And before you start on me, he didn’t give me much choice. He practically threw me out on the street.”

She was expecting, hoping, for sympathy. Throwing in the line about being thrown out on the street, usually that would have galvanized her father. Not this time though. Nick crossed his arms and eyed her. And said nothing for a long, unnerving minute. He had actually liked Tyler.

“Tyler threw you out on the street,” Nick repeated, low and challenging. “I know Tyler, Amanda. It would take a natural disaster to get him that—“

And he broke off. Amanda took a step towards the door, abandoning the case.

“This,” he began, starting low, his voice rising to a bellow, a roar, “this is about Gabe! Isn’t it?! You’re messing around with Gabe again!”

She couldn’t even find Gabe. He wouldn’t answer her calls. No one admitted to even knowing where he was. “I am not messing around with Gabe,” Amanda declared flatly. “Tyler beat him up. He needs my help. And this isn’t a permanent arrangement; I’ll be staying somewhere else.”

Amanda left the suitcase on the floor in the foyer, turned her back to her father and marched out the door into the early morning light. Nick followed her, shouting about Gabe, shouting about Tyler and if Tyler hadn’t finished the job, he would. A threat she didn’t take lightly, but there was nothing she could do about it right now. Later she would. She'd always been able to control her father. Later.

And there was Cat, just climbing out of her car, looking up at Nick and then at her, listening to the tirade. She didn’t look surprised. She probably already knew and for some reason hadn’t said anything to Nick. She might even know where Gabe was, not that she’d ever tell. Even more infuriating, she reminded Amanda of Tessa somehow. Hard gloss. Bulletproof lipstick.

“You are not going back to that asshole!” Nick’s extremely large voice echoed off the brick walls. “I’ll kill that son of a bitch!”

Cat was distracting her, in her way, poised the way she always was poised, nothing under her skin, didn’t matter to her.

Cat had begun to say something, which Amanda ignored. “Move your damned car,” she blasted at Cat over her shoulder, pushing past her into the driveway, the space between the column and the car so tight she bumped hard against the fender. And would have kicked it on her way past if it wouldn’t have seemed so childish. “I’m leaving and you are in my way.”

Bay View - Camilla's residence

Nine-thirty, Mercury Rising’s latest CD cranked up loud enough to beat the paint off the walls, candle wax melting, Camilla stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom and tried to decide if she wanted to wear this tonight. Maybe not.
In the brief pause between one cut and the next, a car pulled up. Her pulse jumped. It’s nothing. Just go look outside and stop jumping because it’s nothing.

Uneasy, Camilla walked out onto the front deck and looked down. She’d already spent hours going over what she would do if and when the people who wanted Gabe came pounding up to her door and tied her up or took away her clothes or threatened to pitch her off her own roof or whatever it was people like that did…but it was nothing of the sort.

She took three careful steps toward the rail and studied the car, and smiled. It was Amanda Alcaide. That was definitely her car.

All right, now this might be good. What an absolutely wonderfully amusing thing…and on top of amusing, it might be interesting to toss something unexpected into Gabe’s not so great plan. Whatever it was. As if he even had one which he probably didn’t. And mess with Tessa at the same time. This was a lot more interesting than the evening she had planned.

Camilla almost skidded out of the bedroom, descended the stairs, and saw Amanda through the front door…wearing…what on earth was she wearing? Hair all twisted up and that awful outfit like Moms on Parade or something. Gabe was supposed to like that? Because that had to be why she was here. All about Gabe, always all about Gabe.

Amanda stepped aside when she walked out to meet her, pulled herself up, boobs all out there and everything, looking all nervous like she thought someone was going to jump her...not in that outfit.

“Amanda…what a surprise…so what are you doing here?“

Amanda walked away from the door and stood halfway down the walk toward the street, turned sideways into the light. She didn’t want to be here. That was really obvious. Looking directly at her, she said straight out, “I want to know where Gabe is. If you know, please tell me.”

Camilla smiled at her. This was so funny it was just about unbearable. Oh please tell me just please tell me where is dear darling Gabe…What if she didn’t say anything and just kept standing here…how long would Amanda keep it up? Would she beg?

Amanda got an unattractive frown line between her eyes and put on an attitude on top of the one she was already wearing along with that outfit and demanded, “Are you going to play games, Cam? I’m tired of that. Do you know where he is?”

Oh my god it was tempting. Play games? Play a lot of very evil games with this particular princess but she was not the primary target anyway so no probably not. Another day.

“You know you’re crazy,” Camilla laughed. “You are completely out of your mind. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love anybody except himself.”

“I think I know him better than you do. I know him better than anyone does. I know him better than he knows himself.” That declaration made, Amanda shut up and stood there, still looking at her, but no begging which was sort of a disappointment but then Camilla really hadn’t expected she would.

Shrugging it aside, it didn’t matter all that much anyway, Cam asked, “Can you find your way to the lake?”

“I can find my way to the moon if I want to go there.” Amanda had an interesting voice. It was like Nick’s voice, sort of velvety and growly and Gabe probably liked it. Maybe it would make up for the clothes.

Good voice or not, she was an idiot. Chasing the moon was right. “Hope you can find your way to Gabe and back again because darling….you’re going to need a really good map. 1440 Forest Edge Drive.”

Amanda started toward her car and turned back and unexpectedly said, “Thank you, Cam. Whatever you think of me, I love him.”

And for some reason those three words drove hard into her. Camilla walked away, walked around the back of her house out on the beach and sat down in the wet sand and the water which was going to ruin her shoes.

Starlight, moonlight and streetlights twinkled and reflected in the water as it moved, shifted, approached and crept away. She dug her fingers into the sand. I need, she thought unhappily, to do something about my manicure.

Lakeview - 1440 Forest Edge Drive

The stones were uneven under her feet. Amanda stumbled, started down the path again. Was this even the right place…the numbers on the houses were hard to read, some of them missing. She had driven up to three houses so far, flashing headlights through heavy white pine and blue spruce, trying to make out the numbers…but this should be it. 1440 painted on a board nailed to a tree and barely visible, of course.

Was it the right place? Or had Camilla lied? Oh come on…why would she lie…either she gave the right address or she gave nothing at all. She was Gabe’s cousin.

And, she thought, trying not to shiver, if Cam had lied, or if the stupid woman didn’t even remember the right address, then she was no further away than she’d been before she began.

Amanda drew a deep breath and banged on the door. At least the place looked occupied. And if it was the wrong house, she would go down the street and try the next one.

But it was not the wrong house…the door swung open and there he was…filling up the air and the spaces between the air, just as he had always done. Warmth and the smell of woodsmoke poured through that door.

“Amanda?” Gabe didn’t even look particularly surprised.

But he did look awful, bruises on his face, a wide red welt down his left cheek. Damn Tyler…she hoped his hand was all crumpled up and he couldn’t play his stupid guitar without making squeaky noises.

“I was worried about you,” she told him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he responded quietly. “I look like shit but I’m all right.”

“You wouldn’t return my calls. No one would tell me where you were. Are you going to let me in? I’m freezing out here.”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, toying with the silver chain, the chain she'd given him. Was he really going to refuse to let her come inside? “Since you’re here, you'd better come in,” Gabe finally said, his tone dry. “And I guess I can thank Camilla for the visit.”

That was not the reaction Amanda had anticipated, not that she had expected him to immediately fall on his knees in gratitude. But he was edgy and significantly less pleased to see her than she had hoped he would be. At least he didn’t shut the door in her face.

She followed him into a room that evidently served as living, dining and kitchen all at the same time. Soaring glass windows overlooked the lake. A fire burned in a stone hearth, the source of the scent of woodsmoke.

He slowed his stride, moved closer to her, his hand brushing hers, light touch of his fingers against her skin. Every movement was an act of seduction. Something she had to resist until she said what she had come to say.

Gabe sat back on one of the couches, leaning into it, and smiled at her. “Sit down, Lady A. Talk to me.”

Amanda considered the couch, then curled up on the rug at his feet. Gabe shifted slightly, resting one hand on his right thigh. “Come on, Amanda,” he urged almost gently, “you hunted me down. What is it?”

She swallowed hard and looked up from his jeans. “You have to get away from Tessa. I can help with that, Gabe. You’ll need to prove you haven’t had sex with her since you’ve been married – you’ll need a witness as insane as that sounds. If we stay together, I can swear in court that nothing has happened. You can get out of the marriage in a couple of months. I’ve done the research. Whatever else is going on, I can probably help with that, too.”

Unexpectedly, he stopped smiling, stood up and walked across the room and then turned and looked at her, silent. It unnerved her. Surely he didn’t intend to stay with Tess, or was this about something else. “Gabe,” Amanda insisted, “you do not want her. I know that. She’ll never satisfy you.”

“I never said she would,” he returned quietly. “I married her for the money. But you have to stay out of this.” Something about his expression alarmed her. He had shut down again. “Gabe, I have resources. I can help…and you haven’t…you haven’t gone to bed with her, have you?”

Again, he paused, watching her. Amanda could hear the wind roaring in the trees, a log snapping suddenly in the fireplace. “Of course not,” Gabe finally replied. “I know what I’m dealing with.”
He smiled again, and added, “Come outside with me for a minute.”

Reluctantly, she’d just spent several hours out there and it was cold, Amanda followed him. The wind tossed leaves, water, but before she could protest Gabe reached for her. Warm skin, heavily muscled arms and shoulders closing around her, the familiar taste of his mouth and the smell of his hair, light touch of his tongue against her lips. Oh god, she thought briefly, I can’t lose this…I will not lose this.

“Gabe,” she started to whisper and was met with a quiet, “Shhh…kiss me Lady A…I want you. Just you…”

His legs entwined with hers, the warm water lapping around her bare waist, Amanda took Gabe's hand, running one finger along the tanned skin. "I'll never give up on you," she swore softly. "Never."

He moved even closer. "I know, Lady A. I know."

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NEXT CHAPTER: Rising Above Chapter 4