In the Air Tonight Page 18

  Please,” Vivi whispered and Caleb didn’t know what she was asking for but his hands held her wrists, his body pinning her to the wall, one of his thighs pressed between hers. It was an oddly sexual interrogation, but since Vivi had arrived, all his urges—sexual and otherwise—were magnified, even as distrust and frustration with his memory loss came flooding back.

  “You’ve lied to me before.”

  “No. You thought I did.”

  “I might not know much … but I know when someone’s keeping a secret.” His face was inches from hers, his cock was hard and his adrenaline raced. He wanted the truth from her, but he also wanted her naked, on the desk, writhing under him, and the image was disconcerting considering the current circumstances.

  She licked her bottom lip. Her breath came fast. She would kiss him back, he knew that. “You’re just mad I looked at your sketches.”

  That was part of it, yes, but his instincts still screamed. He might not remember Vivi well, but his subconscious seemed to. Intimately. “Tell me what you’re holding back,” he demanded.

  “I’m not with the FBI,” she blurted out, nervousness making her voice a higher pitch than usual and he caught flashes of her. In a chair. Tied. Naked.

  An interrogation. And she’d been scared.

  He released her as if he’d been burned but he wouldn’t let it go that easily. “This happened before,” he blurted out.

  “You tied me to a chair and interrogated me when we were together,” she told him. “This wasn’t about you losing control, Caleb. It was about you remembering. Re-creating.”

  “I don’t want to re-create … not like this.” He shook his head.

  “Please, Caleb, you have to believe me, quitting the FBI is the only thing I lied about. And I was going to tell you when it mattered. If it mattered.”

  “So all that shit you talked about earlier, about loyalty—”

  “Wasn’t shit, you asshole.” She pushed her body toward his, posturing and angry and, no, that wasn’t a lie.

  He almost kissed her then, but was distracted by a tall shadow moving across the back window. A quick glance back at Vivi told him she’d seen it too, which meant the person wasn’t trying too hard to remain hidden.

  Still, he wasn’t taking chances. “Move to the storeroom—don’t come out until I say it’s okay,” he barked, was out the door with a baseball bat in hand in seconds.

  “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

  Caleb sighed, turned to find his teammate leaning against the side of the building like it was perfectly normal for him to be standing outside in the middle of a snowstorm. “Goddammit, Reid.”

  Reid took a drag of his cigarette, then dropped it and ground it out with the heel of his heavy black leather boot. “What the hell are you going to do with that?”

  Caleb dropped his arm, letting the bat hang loosely at his side. “There’s been some action around here.”

  “I could see that. That’s why I was waiting out here.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Yep.”

  “Mace called you in, didn’t he?” Cael asked, and when Reid nodded, he motioned him inside, saying, “I’ll fill you in.”

  Mace no doubt called him because Caleb’s memories were coming back so quickly now. Having Reid here to help them with the Paige situation would be an added bonus.

  “Vivi, everything’s okay—you can come out. It’s just Reid.”

  As Vivi came out of the storeroom, Caleb asked Reid, “Where’s Kell?”

  “Fuck if I know.” Reid abandoned his bag in the middle of the office with a quick glance at Vivi before turning his attention back to Cael. “You don’t expect me to work here, do you?”

  “Just come have a goddamned drink and stay under the radar, okay?” He pointed to Vivi. “Reid, you remember Vivi Clare, right?”

  Reid cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I do. I just didn’t think you did.”

  “Don’t go there,” Caleb warned, and Reid looked between the two of them. Vivi gave a small wave and went back to the computer and Reid followed Caleb into the main part of the bar.

  It was time to open the place up.

  Just then, Paige’s cell phone, which had been sitting on the office desk, began to ring. The three of them stared at it like it was a ticking bomb.

  A pretty apt description. Vivi picked up the phone and checked the screen.

  “It’s the same number Jeffrey used before,” Vivi said. “Should I pick it up?”

  Caleb nodded. “Speaker, though.”

  She did as he asked, said hello softly, trying to imitate Paige’s voice. There was a pause and then, “Hi, Paige.”

  Before Vivi could say anything else, the familiar voice of Jeffrey continued to talk. And the same, familiar message from yesterday. She said, “Is this Jeffrey?” but the voice continued along without missing a beat.

  It was a recording.

  Still, she hoped the message would be long enough this time to trace the call, watched the time with baited breath as Caleb’s face tightened with anger, because he was paying attention to the message.

  It was hard not to.

  When Jeffrey said good-bye, the phone clicked off. The call had been under thirty seconds, so Jeffrey obviously made sure it couldn’t be traced. The whole damned country knew that, thanks to all the police procedural shows.

  “Did you record it?” Caleb asked.

  “Yes, I’ve got it on the computer. And there’s a record of the call on the phone so you can report it.”

  “I’ll have Dylan call the prison. Someone close to her is giving out information.”

  “There’s no one close to her,” she pointed out. “There was Gray. And now you guys. But before that, she was nearly as solitary as I was, even with her work. As I still am.”

  Caleb turned to stare at her when the last statement slid out of her mouth, but she’d already turned away.

  Mace drove the wintry roads toward New Jersey. They would get there quickly, giving her time to rest overnight before the morning’s visit.

  Paige agreed—she would need all her strength, and right now she simply felt strung out. Jittery and restless, wondered how she’d sit through the long drive. Wondered how she’d sit next to Mace, because even though he’d been nothing but supportive and strong since she’d listened to the phone call, there was still so much hanging between them.

  How had things gone so very wrong in such a short period of time?

  She couldn’t think about that now—had to focus on what lay ahead. She needed to see Jeffrey to find out about the twins. That was the goal of this trip. And as she buckled herself into the now warm car with its leather seats, Mace scraped away ice from the windshield and then got into the car himself.

  “The sky looks dark again,” she noted. “The radio said another storm’s coming through.”

  “We’ll be there before it hits,” he assured her as he drove out of the lot on a backwoods road that was bumpy and unplowed, although in his SUV, she wasn’t worried. “Dylan is calling the warden to arrange for your visit outside of normal visiting hours.”

  “Good, that’s good.” She was beginning to understand the intricate web of bonds between these brothers in arms. Appreciated it as much as she feared it. “It’s early for these kinds of back-to-back storms, isn’t it?”

  He glanced at her briefly. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

  For the first half hour or more, he checked his rearview mirror carefully as they drove along, making sure no one was following them. And then he turned the radio on low and she pushed her seat back, too tired from the stress of recent events not to let the car rock her into a dreamless sleep.

  When she woke, it was a few hours later and they’d crossed into Jersey. They had left earlier than necessary, long before the bar would open. She had a feeling he didn’t want her to have to spend another night at the bar, just in case. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Vivi in the line of fire for her, but she’d be with
Caleb and Keagen, and the sheriff would be in the area too, checking for anything that looked suspicious.

  “You don’t think the OA will do anything while you’re gone, do you?” she asked.

  “I don’t want you to worry about that.”

  “Just because you tell me not to worry doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” she said, aware of how stupidly stubborn she sounded.

  “You need to eat,” was all Mace said and she was too tired to argue. Tired, no doubt, from low blood sugar, but he already knew that and she saw no point in confirming that he was right. Again.

  Instead, she sat across from him in a dark, cozy steak house he’d found and let him order the porterhouse for two, her mouth watering as the waiter brought them bread, quickly followed by appetizers.

  His smirk said, Told you so, but she ignored it in favor of stabbing another shrimp and dipping it into the spicy cocktail sauce. They ate in relative silence, with her enjoying the comfort of having him near, of being someplace safe and happy.

  “Is the hotel close?”

  He nodded. “I already booked us a room before we left.”

  A room, as in one. He didn’t look apologetic at all about not booking two separate rooms. Maybe he’d even try to say it was for protection.

  She didn’t bother to ask. And then the waiter brought out the steak and the sides and served them. When he left, they both began to eat.

  Mace took a few bites before he said, “I was a bastard last night. Par for the course for me. But you don’t deserve to get the brunt of it.”

  “I asked for it, Mace.”

  “No, you wanted answers. You got my burdens.”

  “I guess we’re pretty even, then. And I don’t think you’re a bastard.”

  “Yeah, you do. It’s okay, I am. Literally and figuratively,” he told her, and she realized that he hadn’t exactly apologized for it, just simply stated a fact.

  “Have you ever looked for your father?”

  “I know who he was,” he said shortly. “I visited him once, in a place similar to where we’re headed. Different state, same bars and barbed wire.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Murdered a store clerk during an armed robbery, when my mom was pregnant with me. He was the first person she met when she ran away from home.”

  “Is he still in prison?”

  “He’s dead,” he told her bluntly. “He was killed on the inside by another inmate after he’d been in for ten years. Prison justice.”

  She wanted to tell him she was sorry, but she knew Mace wasn’t sorry about it at all. And so she said nothing, took the small scrap of information he’d shared with her and was grateful for it. “And here I thought I had the only screwed-up family.”

  “Some hide it better than others.”

  She pressed her lips together and then she admitted, “After the shooting—the trial—everything fell apart. Mom started drinking and so did Dad. Then Dad left—he died of alcohol poisoning a few years after that. Then Mom pulled me out and homeschooled me. I was grateful, because news had already traveled to our new town about who we were … what Jeffrey had done.” She paused. “My mom met Gray’s dad about two years later and they got married.”

  Gray had been the only bright spot in her teenage years, had carried her through nursing school and her mom’s death—her stepfather moved to Arizona for the climate to help with his asthma and emphysema.

  Mace took a few more bites of his meal before he said, “Gray wished he could’ve done more. He didn’t like leaving you in the house with your mom and his dad—he said they both drank too much. Said he told you to leave when you were eighteen and not look back. That you deserved better. And he was right.”

  “I’m glad I left when I did,” she agreed. “He helped me a lot. Even if I didn’t see him all the time, he was still there for me.”

  “He was,” Mace agreed.

  “You didn’t come home with Gray much, my stepfather said.”

  “You asked about me?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “I was curious. I know you didn’t come the next time he visited me.”

  Even though Mace didn’t comment on her admission, they finished the rest of the meal in comfortable silence. Mace ordered them dessert, and even though she protested, she still ate some when it was served.

  She took it as a good sign that she wasn’t too nervous to eat. Mace had managed to take her mind off tomorrow, even though they hadn’t avoided talking about it. His presence was calming.

  And he looked really good. Rugged and handsome. The waitresses—and other patrons—had taken note of that too. Several women had passed by their table in hopes of catching his gaze.

  If he noticed, he didn’t let on. Just drank the red wine he’d ordered them and spooned chocolate mousse into his mouth, looking wicked and decadent, and yes, there was something between them. More than danger, more than sex, and she wasn’t sure if and when she’d admit it to him.

  If she kept up with the wine, it would be sooner rather than later. She put down her wineglass, rested her arms on the table as she leaned in to let him spoon a bite of dessert into her mouth. Mainly to annoy the woman who kept glaring at her, like Paige had stolen her Prince Charming.

  Mace was watching her like she was the only woman in the room.

  “You must have a lot of women after you, all the time,” she said, picked up her glass and took another big sip of wine, quickly forgetting her vow not to drink more.

  He filled her glass again instead of answering.

  “Do I take that as a No comment?”

  “I’m not sure you really want me to answer. Besides, I’m sure you’ve had your share of men after you.”

  “There’ve been some,” she said quietly, stared at her glass. “I tried to use sex to forget far too many times.”

  “Did it work?”

  She looked up to meet his gaze. “Not once, even with my hands protected.”

  “It never worked for me either. Sex is just sex … it should be about feeling good, not about trying to replace something else.” He put down his spoon and took her wrists in his hands before she could move them off the table, gently tugged so their arms were stretched out toward one another on either side of the table that separated them.

  “Why these?” He rubbed his thumbs over the tattoos on both wrists, the motion sending a buzz through her nervous system, the small shocks reminding her she knew just what kind of damage those fingers could do.

  “Protection,” she said. “I figured I need all the help I can get. I know it might seem silly to you.”

  “It doesn’t,” he said. She thought about the small knife he’d carried with him from childhood—far too small for protection, and yet for Mace it provided protection of some sort just the same.

  That same small knife that had caused so many big problems between them.

  “What did Gray say when you got a Navy symbol?”

  “Nautical stars aren’t only naval symbols,” she protested and he just cocked a brow. “What? Should I get an Army insignia to make up for it?”

  Mace didn’t stop stroking her wrists. “You know, that’s not a bad idea at all.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  But he wasn’t.

  As Caleb tended the busy bar, the storm clouds returned, bringing a few more inches of light snow topped with a layer of icy hail. Plows ran nonstop, clearing and salting, and Mace had finally called him from the road to say they were safely in Jersey and hadn’t been followed.

  Good for them, not so good for Caleb or Vivi or anyone in this bar.

  As he worked, he kept an eye on Vivi. She’d paced the back room restlessly after he’d walked away with Reid, stared out the windows and finally settled behind the computer. The only difference was that she now wore Paige’s sweater pulled down to cover most of her hands.

  He had no doubt she was pissed at him—and a little scared too. Shit, he’d scared himself for a minute there. And being that close to h
er had been too much for him—his blood had been set to boiling since last night and the fact that he’d been close to taking her against the damned wall hadn’t helped.

  This dance was part fear, part seduction; she was playing a necessary game, one he understood, but she was straddling a really thin line with him and he wasn’t sure how ready he was to cross it further.

  By midnight, despite the weather—or because of it—the crowd was in full swing. He and Keagen and Vivi were all jumpy as hell, and the mood of the bar was a little off—people were talking about the murder. Some were spooked and a lot thought it was OA-related business, but the consensus was that they were all starting to get a little snow crazy, and it was damned early in the season for that.

  The back parking lot was covered with police tape and everyone who walked in wanted to know if it was Mace or Caleb who found the body, who Ed suspected, and whether the town was about to be in the middle of a gang war.

  Cael didn’t answer with much detail, and he noted that they didn’t ask Keagen too many questions. He was usually eyed with a bit of suspicion by the locals, as if he alone could bring a swarm of motorcycle-riding men like Harvey into town anytime he wanted.

  Granted, that was true, but Keagen liked his freedom more than being ordered around as part of a group.

  I was young and dumb when I joined, and now I can’t back out completely, he’d told Caleb once.

  In between drink orders, Keagen filled him in on the information he’d gotten from Harvey’s ex-charter.

  “They don’t like him, but they had nothing to do with it,” Keagen said. “Red said if they were going to kill him, they would’ve done it years ago when they first kicked him out for sleeping with a few of the guys’ women without permission. They beat the shit out of him when they pushed him out, but he got off a lot easier than a lot of other members, truth be told.”

  “You believe them, then?”

  “I never believe anything any OA says one hundred percent, man, but this doesn’t feel like OA justice at all. And trust me, they like people knowing when they’ve performed some justice. They’re not all that broken up, but they’ve got to do something to save face, in case it’s a rival gang,” Keagen continued. “So far, no one’s taken any responsibility.”