Deadly Force (13 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“Engaged?”

Claire had never heard her father use quite that tone of voice. It sounded like it came all the way from his toes.

Sam moved quickly, ushering everyone from the foyer to the living room. He pointed them toward chairs. Claire thought her mother looked like she needed one—she was the same color as the classic beige linen suit she wore.

What the heck had Sam been thinking?

Engaged?
Oh, for goodness’ sake, now what were they going to say?

She realized, very quickly, that she wasn’t going to have to say much. Sam intended to do the talking.

“I know it’s a bit of a surprise,” he said, “but I hope you’ll be as happy about the news as we are.”

“Sam,” her mother said as she sat down and fanned her face with her hand.
“You can’t be serious.”

“It’s crazy,” her father said. “It’s...it’s sick, that’s what it is.”

“Sick?” Sam repeated, his tone still pleasant, but Claire could see the anger build in his eyes.

“Father,” she said, “I know you didn’t mean that.”

“Be quiet, Claire. I did mean it. For God’s sake, Sam. You were engaged to Claire’s sister, too. If that’s not sick, I don’t know what
is.”

This had gone far enough. She knew what had prompted Sam’s rash statement. Sam, who wanted to handle everything, had seen that her parents were about to bully her back to Nebraska. He’d decided to throw them a curve they couldn’t have begun to anticipate.

Heck, she wished he’d warned her that he was about to pitch. She felt like she was still whirling, the momentum of her bat swinging
her around, making her dizzy.

Wouldn’t it be great if it were real? It’d be the home run of the century. A grand slam in the bottom of the ninth in the seventh game of the World Series.
Cubs Win!
Cubs Win!
She could see the marquee now.

There it went, changing.

Sam and Claire!
Engaged!
Sam and Claire!
The lights flashed and the crowd cheered.

She needed to stop this. Now. The
Cubs weren’t going to win the World Series and she and Sam Vernelli were not getting married.

“Sam, we need to tell—”

“—them the date,” he finished. “Of course. January,” he said with a smile. “Right after the holidays. You can imagine,” he continued, “that we’ve got lots of planning to do. Claire can’t possibly be in Nebraska.”

“This is so unexpected,” her mother said, her voice
weak.

Tell me about it. Claire reached for her mother’s hand and realized it was the first time in a very long time that she’d touched her mother, other than to offer an obligatory hug. When had her skin gotten so thin, like that of an old person’s?

“Claire,” her mother said, “are you sure?”

She nodded, afraid to speak.

Her father shook his head, looking disgusted. “We’re going
to miss our flight if we don’t leave now.”

“I’m staying,” she said, finally finding her voice. “Here. With Sam.”

Her parents looked at each other, then at both her and Sam. Sam didn’t flinch, but he kept one hand cupped around her elbow, like he was prepared to hang on in the event her parents tried to strip her away.

Her mother looked like she wanted to cry. Instead, she stood,
her back straight, her chin out. “I really don’t know what to say.”

Me either.
“I’ll call you,” Claire said. “In a week or two. We can talk about this.” That would be such a fun conversation.

Her father grabbed his wife’s arm. “Let’s go, Lucille,” he said, pulling her after him. “We’re not needed here.”

As her parents walked away, Claire, feeling like they’d sucked up all her energy,
took the chair her mother had vacated. Sam, looking a little sheepish, sat across from her.

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he said.

A little? “Yeah, I guess. What was in your coffee?”

“You didn’t want to go with them, did you?” he asked. He rubbed his index finger against the leather chair.

“Of course not,” she said. “I wasn’t going to.”

“I just thought having
a good reason to stay would help.”

“There’s just one thing. What happens when there’s no wedding?”

He shrugged. “No problem. Whenever you’re ready, you can tell them you wised up and dumped me.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. “Sam, you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s done, Claire. We’re engaged.”

Her heart jumped. If it were only true. If she thought
for one minute that Sam Vernelli was madly in love with her, that he truly wanted to marry her, they’d be catching the next plane for Vegas.

He picked up his cell phone from the coffee table. “I need to call my parents.”

Her heart felt heavy in her chest. “There’s no need to tell them.”

“Yes, there is. I wouldn’t put it past your parents to call mine. I sure as hell don’t want them
hearing it that way.”

“Then tell them the truth.”

He shook his head. “That puts them in the position of having to lie. We sing the same song for the next month to everybody. No exceptions. Then there’s absolutely no way to get tripped up. If we tell even one person the truth, then we’ve lost control of the situation.”

“What are they going to think? What will Jake and Joanna think?”

He blinked a couple times. “I have no idea. It doesn’t matter. What will Nadine think?”

Oh, man. How was she going to be able to keep Nadine from guessing the truth? She’d have to. She couldn’t tell her the truth. Not after Nadine’s most recent slip-up.

She had to admit that it hurt that Nadine hadn’t been more careful. When she’d called her friend, she’d told her that she hadn’t
yet had a chance to tell her parents.

Still, she understood how relentless her parents could be. They’d sniffed the hint of a story and Nadine had probably had very little choice but to cough it up quickly.

“Mom, it’s Sam. I’ve got you on speaker-phone. Claire’s here with me.”

“Hello, Claire. How are you, dear?”

“Well, thank you,” she said.
Hang up,
she mouthed. This was a
horrible idea.

Sam shook his head. He held up his index finger.
One month,
he mouthed back. “Mom, I...uh...wanted you and Dad to know that Claire and I are engaged.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Mom?”

“That’s wonderful, Sam. Really. Congratulations. To both of you.”

Claire could hear the unasked questions in his mother’s tone.

“Let me get your father,” she
said.

There was at least two minutes of silence during which Sam’s face was so stern that it looked like it was made of granite. She should not let him do this. She reached out and grabbed his wrist. His skin felt hot and it reminded her of when he’d pressed his hot naked body up against her. She let her hand drop. “It’s not too late, Sam,” she whispered. “Tell them it’s a joke, tell them
you had too much to drink last night and you’re still hungover. Tell them—”

“Sam,” his father came back on the line. His voice sounded steady. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Sam said.

“Have you talked to your brother?”

Sam swallowed. “Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. Claire and I have a lot to talk about yet. If you want, call him and tell him the news.”

“All right, son. We love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sam said and hung up the phone.

He was pale and there was sweat on his forehead.

“My father was right,” Claire said. She felt sick. What had they done? “This
is
ridiculous.”

He didn’t answer. He walked over, filled Nightmare’s water dish and then pulled the shades up on both of the windows. It was a crisp fall day. “We need
to get to work.”

Her cell phone rang before she could answer. Not wanting to go another round with her parents, she checked the caller ID first. It was Nadine’s cell phone.

“Hello.”

“Oh, my God, Claire. I wanted to call last night but I fell asleep. Is everything okay?”

Okay? That sort of depended on one’s definition of okay. She was with Sam, at his house. They’d spent the
previous night making love. That should have meant everything was perfect. And it would have been if the engagement had been for real. “Sure. Everything’s fine.”

“But...” Nadine’s voice trailed off. “Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m at Sam’s.”

Silence. “Have you talked to your parents?” Nadine asked, her tone cautious.

“Yes. They just left. It was a rather short reunion.” It
sounded so simple. How could it be so complicated?

“But you’re not going back?”

“No.”

Claire could hear Nadine suck in a breath. “That’s great, Claire. Really. I thought I’d blown it for you when I saw your parents at the church dinner. They heard me say something to my mother and when they asked, I couldn’t lie to them. My mom was standing right there. I just couldn’t do it.”

“It’s okay. They had to know sometime.”

“You’re not mad?”

She had been. Sort of. But Nadine had been her friend for over fifteen years. Friendships like that weren’t tossed away. Not because somebody made a mistake. “I just want to know what you were doing at a
church
dinner?” Claire asked, teasing her friend.

“My mother wanted me to go with her.”

“Next time, do me a favor—
whisper
. That’s kind of the general expectation in a church.”

Nadine laughed, although Claire thought it seemed a little forced. Of course her friend felt bad. Claire would just have to make sure she realized that she didn’t hold it against her.

“When are you coming back to Chicago?” Claire asked.

“Today. I’ll be there by late afternoon.”

She needed to tell her friend about
the engagement. The quasi-engagement. She didn’t intend to do it in front of Sam. “I’ll come by around seven, then. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

She looked at Sam. He was pretending not to be interested, but she knew him well enough by now to see the slight difference in his shoulders, the almost-imperceptible cock of his head.

“Have
to. Got to go to work now.” Claire disconnected the call and laid down her cell phone.

“Sounds as if you’re still planning on moving in with Nadine. I thought maybe things might be different now,” he said. He stuck his chin out. “We
are
engaged.”

Except that they really weren’t. But she wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. “Once I talk with Nadine, I’ll be back. I’ll stay the night. But
Nadine’s counting on me to cover my share of the rent.”

“I could pay your rent,” he said. “I—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “I don’t need anybody to pay my rent. I can take care of myself.”

He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “I never said you couldn’t.”

He sounded hurt. How could she blame him? He’d done this incredibly nice thing. He’d lied to his family. For her.
Just for her. And she was acting like an ungrateful shrew.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. “Sam, I’m sorry. I know you were just trying to help.”

“I want to make love to you,” he said.

It was the first thing he’d said in the last two hours that wasn’t crazy. “Tonight,” she said, before she brushed her lips across his.

* * *

H
E
HAD
A
MONTH
. His instincts
had bought him that.

He’d always had good instincts.

Instinct had saved his life before.

Instinct had found a way to keep her parents at bay.

Not that Claire hadn’t almost blown it. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he’d felt her gather up her courage and he’d known that he had just seconds to shut her up and to convince her parents that it was true. It was some of
the fastest talking he’d ever done.

Now he needed to tell Cruz, who was helping one of his younger sisters move into a new apartment. Sam dialed his friend’s cell. “How’s the move going?”

“She has too many shoes and apparently doesn’t understand how to pack glassware so that it doesn’t break,” Cruz said with a hint of humor in his voice. Sam could hear his sister telling him to shut
up in the background.

The Montoya clan was tight-knit. Cruz was the oldest and had practically raised his younger siblings.

“What time will you be done?”

“Couple hours.”

“Okay, can you meet me at the little diner on Houston? The one that serves breakfast all day.”

“Got a jones for some biscuits and gravy?”

“My arteries
are
feeling a little clean,” Sam said. “Just
meet me there, okay?”

Cruz sighed. “Fine. Noon. Order the coffee if you beat me.”

Sam beat his friend by two minutes. He ordered two coffees and two orange juices, thinking Cruz could probably use the vitamin C.

“What’s up?” Cruz said, sliding into the worn vinyl booth. He looked at the orange juice, ignored it and picked up his coffee cup. He took a deep drink. “How’s Claire?”

“Fine.” Sam tossed an unopened creamer from one hand to the other. Again. And again. “We’re engaged,” he said finally.

Cruz nodded. “Fancy that.”

The waitress picked that moment to stop at the table. Sam stuck with just coffee and Cruz ordered a Danish.

“Fancy that?”
Sam repeated, when the woman had walked away. “I said engaged, Cruz.”

“Congratulations. She’s a great girl.”

Sam set down his coffee cup. “That’s it? Congratulations? You don’t think I’m crazy? I was almost married to her sister.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Sam rubbed his forehead. “That maybe doesn’t make it right.”

Cruz set down his coffee cup, too. “Sam, are you trying to talk yourself out of it?”

He didn’t know what he was trying to do. All he knew was what had been a crazy
impulse seemed less crazy as each minute passed. Now, he was almost to the point of thinking that he was almost sane.

Why the hell couldn’t he marry her?

“She’s almost nine years younger than I am,” he said.