Authors: Susan Sey
“Yeah. I do.” And she had the
broken heart to prove it, thank you very much.
She stood.
“
So thanks for bringing
Jass
in. I’ll need to see her again in
--”
“There’s more, MJ. I’m not just here to apologize.”
She closed her eyes. More? How much more could she possibly take? “Ty, please. I said everything I had to say at the gala last week. Let’s just...not, okay?”
He came to his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets
when she flinched back
. “It’s not that. I mean, not
just
that. I still love you, MJ. I probably always will. But okay, I’ve been a jerk and I don’t deserve you. I get that. But
I’m changing
. I
’m working hard on changing
, MJ. You’ve got to hear me out.
”
She put a trembling hand over her eyes
. She didn’t know if she was trying
to block out the sight of him, earnest and nakedly needy, or
trying
to conceal
her own
ridiculous tears
. Both were good enough reasons
to hide
. “It’s too late, Ty. I’m past that.”
“I know,” he said. “But I’m not. Don’t you want to know how I got in here this morning?”
She dropped her hand, frowned at him. She’d been
so relieved about not having to Louisville Slug somebody she’d forgotten to wonder
. “How
did
you get in?”
He produced a key from his pocket and held it up.
“Where did you get that?”
“They give them out like candy when you buy the building.”
“You bought the building?”
“Yep. Got a really good deal. Apparently, this isn’t the best neighborhood.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now whose fault is that?”
His grin disappeared and those dark eyes went serious. “Mine, partly. I won’t deny it. But I’m working on fixing that.”
She folded her arms. “Yeah? You
organizing a basketball tournament at the Wash? Donating to the bail-out-your-fellow-gang-bangers fund?”
“Not exactly. I turned my books over to the FBI.”
Her knees folded and she landed in the chair she’d just abandoned. “You what?”
He smiled ruefully. “I might not be a model citizen but I’m one hell of a manager. My books are neat, clean and very, very detailed. The paper trail goes right to the top, MJ. Right to some very, very bad men who, as it turns out, the FBI has been looking at for some time.”
Mary Jane pressed the heel of her hand to her chest, to the twin
jets of hope and fear that sp
u
r
ted there. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
“Besides the immunity from prosecution and the fact that I owed it to every kid in this neighborhood?”
He sat down across from her, took her hand. “You, MJ. I did it for you.”
A terrifying joy swept over her and she bowed under it. He pressed her cold hand, and the strength, the heat of him washed over her, pulled at her like the sun pulls the planets.
“
I was never enough for you before
,
” she whispered.
“Why would I be enough now?”
“
You were always enough, MJ. More than enough. More than I deserved. But I was too busy pitying myself to see that
.” He lifted his shoulders. “
Then
a
kid put his gun
against your beautiful skin.”
He brushed a fin
ger against her temple. “Th
ere.
Right there.
That kid
pressed
a
gun
against
your
head
and I just--
”
His voice went unsteady and he cleared his throat. “Well, let’s
just say I grew up in a fucking hurry
. It was time to make some changes. Big ones.”
“So you turned over your books to the FBI, and in doing so painted a big old target on your back.”
He gave her a grim smile. “Please. I haven’t survived in this neighborhood being a fool.
”
“Yeah, fools don’t last long around here. And that’s
why,
when the FBI uses your books to put
everybody but you
in jail, somebody--
God
, everybody--is going to connect the dots.” She swallowed back a choking wave of terror
and pulled her hand away from his
. “
They won’t hesitate, Ty
.
They’ll kill you.
”
“Not if I give them other dots to connect.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“That deal I made with the feds? It’s a little more complicated than I first made out. I’m not getting jail time, but I
am
getting
probation and
a shit
load of community service.” He
twirled the clinic key absently through his fingers
. “Service I was already planning on, but still. It’s something. The Dog Crew sees me take a slap, get a record, do my probation. Top it off with
Jass
’ disappearance and
--”
“Wait,
Jass
’
what
?”
“She can’t stay here, MJ. You know that.
People around here look at her and see a traitor. They look at that baby and see the enemy. And
Jass
, she looks around and sees nothing but the bastards who killed
her lover.
Her baby’s daddy.
Is it such a stretch to think a girl like that might
turn a stolen lap top over to the FBI and disappear
?
”
Mary Jane lifted skeptical brows. “Disappear
where exactly
?”
“
Michigan
, I think
.
Some l
ittle town
outside
Detroit. Bunch of apple orchards or something
?
I don’t know.
She has family there.
But it’s a fresh start and the FBI is willing to get her there clean and quick
.
”
She struggled against the hope trying to
sneak
onto her face.
“It’s risky,” she said
finally
.
“Really risky.”
“I know.
But
what else can I do? This is my home
, MJ.
And you’re my heart
.
I
won’t
leave either of you behind
, not ever again
.
” He reached out, took her hand.
“
This is my fresh start, too
. R
ight here
.”
“
Are we talking about me or this
building?”
“
For now? Let’s talk about the building.
I have plans for this place. You want to hear them?”
“Your business plan? Yeah, that I’d like to hear.”
His smile broke slow and warm over the perfection of his face, and Mary Jane wanted to throw herself into his lap and promise him anything. But she was just old enough, just wise enough, just burned enough, to hold back.
“
But beyond the professional?
” she said.
She slipped her hand free, folded it into her lap.
“
I don’t think so. Not right now.”
“I’m a patient man, MJ. I can wait. But for now--”
He
held out his hand for a shake, all business
. “To the future
.”
She
looked hard into his eyes, wondered what she’d find there tomorrow, the day after
.
She was a fool, she told herself.
But she shook his hand.
“To the future.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Nixie slid a perfect omelet from the sauté pan onto a plate and flipped off the burner. She smirked at the stove.
“Played you like
a
fiddle,
mon
ami
.”
The stove maintained a stony silence. She almost wished it would start talking to her again. It was all in her head, of course, but even a make-believe fight with a snooty stove would be a nice change of pace from the non-conversations she’d been having with nobody all week.
She sat down at the pretty café table
cozied
up to the window in her breakfast nook, forked up a fluffy mouthful of rosemary and goat cheese omelet and
chewed with a determined enjoyment. She had conquered the damn stove. She had reclaimed her life. She was--
The doorbell rang and she leaped to her feet, her hea
rt pounding into her throat,
hope blooming in her chest.
She was goddamn lonely, was what she was.
She raced to the door, flung it open without even checking the peep hole.
“Mom.” She
didn’t bother to disguise her disappointment
. What, she really thought Erik was going to turn up at her door one of these days with a bouquet of roses, a ring and a couple tickets to Fiji?
After everything she’d said, she was darn lucky anybody rang the bell at all.
Still, it had
been barely a week since Sloan
had dealt out her final rejection of motherhood. Just because Nixie had other, larger wounds didn’t mean this one wasn’t still bleeding.
“
What are you doing here?
”