Nighthawk & The Return of Luke McGuire (35 page)

And only the fact that it would look like he was running from Amelia had stopped him from doing just that.

Oh? And wouldn’t you have been?

He’d been hearing way too much of that little voice in his head lately. Once it had encouraged him to take the chances that most of the time landed him in trouble, now it just seemed to nag him. Hoping to shut it off, he retreated to his room, picked up his book, and settled in to read.

He finished the book all too soon, freeing his mind to wander. Except that it didn’t; it went straight back to exactly where he didn’t want it to go.

It was only a kiss, for God’s sake. What was wrong with him? He’d kissed lots of women before. Just because he hadn’t meant to kiss this one but hadn’t been able to stop himself didn’t have to mean anything. Just because he’d only meant to make it a quick, brotherly kiss and had lost control of it didn’t have to mean anything.

The instant fire that had blazed along his nerves was a bit harder to explain away.

He glanced at his watch. Not yet midnight. Maybe he would go for a ride, blow out the cobwebs.

Then again, he thought, maybe not; it might not be late to him, but to most of Santiago Beach it was the middle of the night, and he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire by waking up the whole town snarling up and down their streets. Time was that would have been his sole goal in life, but things had changed.

But he could take a walk, as he often did when he couldn’t sleep at night. It wouldn’t be at all the same here, but maybe it would help.

Or maybe, he thought after he’d been tramping a half an hour along a sidewalk that seemed to him too level and civilized for a real walk, it would make things worse.

He hadn’t intended to do it, but he’d been so busy fighting off the persistent thoughts of Amelia and memories of that kiss that he hadn’t paid much attention to where he was going. And now he was here, as if his feet had remembered the way and forgotten to mention to his mind where they were going.

He stopped at the corner, under the big hibiscus tree, staring down at the big white house in the middle of the block. His mother had been so proud of that house. No doubt she still was. The new husband she’d acquired when Luke was ten would have preferred something less grand, something designed a bit more with children in mind—he’d wanted lots of them, Luke remembered now. But then as later, Jackie got what she wanted. So Luke had spent eight years in that house, afraid to touch anything outside his own room and aware that his mother begrudged him even that much space.

She’d even resented the time Ed Hiller had spent with Luke, and sometimes Luke thought she’d had David partly to cut down on that as well as to insure that Ed stayed in line. The other part was the fulfilling of the one desire her husband had expressed; she’d presented him with a son of his own and expected him to be happy with that.

And Ed had been. He’d loved David with all his heart and still had enough left over to give his stepson a little. He’d wanted more children, and Luke knew he would have loved them all, but his wife had said one was enough. Even then, he hadn’t counted.

He watched the darkened house and wondered if everyone who came back home felt this odd sense of distance, as if what had happened here had happened to someone else. It wasn’t that it was any better, looking back, it was simply that it didn’t matter as much as it once had. Once it had been the core of his life, fueling his anger and drive to make as much trouble as he could. Now…now it was cooling embers, requiring intentional stirring and added fuel to produce any heat.

A movement at the side of the house yanked him out of his reverie.

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he looked into the deep shadows along the four-car garage. He’d just about decided he’d imagined it when something moved again, low down, next to the white wall. It was awfully big for a local animal, unless the Langs still lived down the street and still fancied Newfoundlands.

And then the shape stood up, and he knew from the height, the baggy cargo pants and the backward baseball cap that it was David.

He wondered if his brother had taken the same way out he always had, through the bathroom window that opened over the garage roof, then down the back side, where you could just reach the edge of the patio roof. He’d never taken the boy with him, but he supposed he could have watched. And remembered.

David moved stealthily toward the sidewalk, then up the street, away from where Luke was hidden in the shadow of the hibiscus. As David neared the corner, Luke saw two more figures appear, carrying backpacks. The three waited, and a few minutes later three more arrived. Then the six took off with purposeful yet furtive strides, heads swiveling as they checked their surroundings constantly.

Luke knew that look. He knew exactly how it felt to be constantly on the watch, ready to run if you were spotted by the wrong person.

He also knew what it meant. He’d done it too often himself to forget; David and his buddies were up to something they shouldn’t be.

He waited until they were just out of sight, then started after them. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he couldn’t not go.

He hadn’t gone far when he realized the follower himself was being followed. A car was behind him, a small black coupe, keeping its distance, but never so far that the driver would lose sight of him. He wondered if maybe it was an undercover police car, but it looked pretty racy for that, unless things had changed mightily at Santiago Beach PD.

His attention now split between the boys up ahead and the car behind, he kept going. It was an odd sort of real, physical flashback to a time when skulking along darkened streets had been a regular habit of his.

They reached Main Street, and Luke knew he would have to be careful now. There was too much open space, too many places where his quarry could spot him. If they turned north, there wasn’t much cover; if they went south, there was an occasional recessed doorway in front of the businesses along the block that would afford some cover, and the courtyard of the community center, with all its trees and benches.

He got lucky, they went south.

He’d been so focused on them for the moment that he didn’t realize the car had stopped until he paused at the corner to let the boys get far enough away. He glanced back; the black coupe was parked now, and just as he looked, the headlights went out. He turned back and leaned to look around the corner; the boys were walking slowly, watchfully, and he knew he had to give them more space.

“Luke!”

The whisper was just loud enough for him to hear, but still he nearly whacked his head on the sign advertising T-shirts at the corner tourist trap as he whipped around at the unexpected sound of his name.

Amelia. Of all the people he might have expected to come across prowling around in the middle of the night, she would have been the last.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still shaking off the vestiges of the alarm she’d given him.

“The same thing you are, I think,” she whispered back. “I heard David’s…friends talking about something happening at midnight tonight, so I followed him.”

He stared at her. “You came out in the middle of the night, following that pack of kids, when you know at least one of them is carrying a weapon? And you think you’re not brave?”

“I’m just trying to help David. That’s not bravery.”

“The heck it’s not,” he said softly.

He leaned back to glance around the corner of the building again. The boys were three blocks down, heading toward the beach.

“Much farther and they’ll be out of sight,” he said, giving up on the whisper but still speaking quietly.

“Then let’s go.”

He looked back at her. “I suppose it’s useless to say let me handle this?”

“I can help,” she insisted. “David’s still a little angry with you, but I don’t think he would do anything…stupid in front of me.”

“I hope you’re right,” Luke muttered.

They started down the street. They had to be careful, because every few minutes one of the boys would look around; they were obviously worried about being followed or spotted.

“You’re good at this,” Amelia said when Luke pulled her into the doorway of what had been a jewelry store but was now a surf-wear shop, the third time they’d dodged out of sight.

“I did enough sneaking up and down this street at night myself,” he told her. “The names have changed, but the terrain hasn’t.”

A half block later, when the whole group of boys stopped and looked around carefully, Amelia said rather despondently, “They really are up to no good, aren’t they?”

“Looks like it,” Luke said, feeling rather grim himself.

“Then they really are the ones who broke that window and vandalized the playground.”

Luke twisted around to look at her. “What?”

“The front window at the convenience store up on the highway was shattered, and all the gym equipment on the playground at the park was broken up.”

“I saw the window boarded up,” Luke said, turning to look back down the street. The boys hadn’t moved. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“They’ve stopped moving.”

“Maybe they’ve changed their minds,” Amelia said hopefully.

“That optimism of yours again.” Luke wondered if he’d ever been that upbeat in his life. He doubted it. “They’re being careful so they don’t get caught.”

“Then…shouldn’t we stop them?”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Talk them out of it or something.”

Luke shook his head wryly. “Those boys aren’t listening. To anyone. If they were, they wouldn’t be here.”

“But we have to try, don’t we? David might listen to me. He always has.”

“He might, normally.” When he saw her brow furrow in puzzlement he tried to explain. “Normally he might listen, and I know you’re a good persuader…you could sure talk me into or out of about anything. But he’s in front of his friends right now. And with a guy that age, he’d sooner die than go against them or let some girl talk him out of their macho plan.”

Amelia just looked at him for a long, silent moment. Even in the faint light he could see her big eyes widen even further, and only when she finally spoke did he realize what part of what he’d said she had fixated on.

“I…could?”

It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. And then he was grateful for the dim light, because he was sure he was blushing as his own words came back to him.
You could sure talk me into or out of about anything….

Especially out of my clothes,
he added to himself, bracing himself against the rush of heated sensation that rippled through him at the thought of being naked with her. A mere kiss had been like shooting class-five rapids; anything more would be like going over the falls. Or running a river everyone said was unrunnable.

The problem, of course, was living to tell about it.

“Luke?”

Her soft voicing of his name sent another burst of heat through him. With an effort he beat it back and leaned out to look down the street once more.

They were gone.

Luke swore under his breath, then held up a hand to forestall Amelia’s natural query. He listened, and in the night air could hear the sound of movement and, once, the clank of metal on metal.

“Whatever they’re going to do, they’ve started.”

They began to hurry, still maintaining as much cover as he could. But he doubted the boys were looking now; they’d obviously decided they were clear.

“It’s the community center,” Amelia whispered when they got close enough to see exactly where the boys had stopped. “I wonder—”

He stopped her with a sharp gesture as he spotted one of the boys as he crossed in front of a light patch of wall. Then he swore again, low and harsh.

“He’s got a gas can.”

“Gas—” Amelia began, breaking off when the obvious answer came to her. “Oh, God, no, they wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you doubt it,” Luke said grimly.

“Luke, we’ve got to stop them! If they burn down the community center… I’ve got my cell phone.”

He knew she was right. And for the first time he considered actually calling the police. But he knew too well what would happen to his brother if he did.

“Maybe I can scare them off,” he said.

“Maybe
we
can,” Amelia corrected. He started to protest but saw by the set of her jaw there was no point. He gave in, making a mental note to discuss her supposed timidity later.

“Dial 911 and keep it in your hand, ready to send,” he said. Amelia did as he said, and then they began to move again.

The boy with the gas can spotted them first. He yelled a warning, and the other boys whipped around. David was the first to recognize them. He let out a string of curses that would have done Luke proud at that age.

“Evening, boys,” Luke drawled. “Planning a weenie roast?”

“They’ll tell my mom,” David said rather desperately, and not to anyone in particular. “She’ll lock me up for the rest of my life!”

And then, before anyone could react, he whirled and ran, darting through the alley. He was out of sight in seconds.

And Luke and Amelia stood facing five very angry young men, one holding a gas can that was leaking, the fumes getting stronger as he sloshed it around menacingly, and one flipping open his deadly blade.

Snake took a step toward them, knife at the ready. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Amelia.

“You do anything with that phone, bitch, and I’ll cut your throat.”

Luke’s jaw tightened as the boy threatened her. And he wondered if he remembered enough about knife fighting to keep her alive.

“L
ook, why don’t we all just go home and forget about this?” Amelia said. It took every bit of control she had to keep her voice from shaking with fear.

“Why don’t you just go on back to your books?” Snake said with a sneer. “Leave the real life to us. You can’t handle it.”

Amelia nearly gasped aloud. How had he done it, this angry street kid? How had he seen through her, down to the depths of her frightened soul, to the basic fear she lived with every day, that she was too much of a coward for real life, that that was the basis of her love of books and her faintheartedness everywhere else?

“Don’t,” Luke said, “bite off more than
you
can handle.”

As shaken as she was, Amelia couldn’t miss the quiet warning in Luke’s voice. She glanced at him, and there was not a trace of the fear she was feeling. She could see the faint glint of the gold earring and thought inanely of pirates repelling boarders.

“I keep hearin’ what a tough guy you are,” Snake said, waving his knife for emphasis. “But I don’t think I believe it. I think you’re all talk, like that mommy-whupped little brother of yours. Poor little rich kid.”

Amelia forced herself to focus; her own pride didn’t matter right now. And she didn’t like the way Luke moved, the way he shifted his weight, the way he was standing there eyeing the five of them as if fighting were an option. “Luke, let’s get out of here.”

Snake laughed. “Yeah, you listen to the book lady here. Run, like your brother did.”

“There’s five of them. Come on,” Amelia insisted.

“That’s the way it works,” he said to her, although he never took his eyes off Snake and the others. “Guys like this don’t have the guts to stand by themselves, so they have to travel in packs.”

Snake stiffened and muttered a name involving Luke’s mother that make him laugh ironically. That was the last straw piled on Snake’s uncertain temper; he leapt at Luke, knife at the ready.

Amelia smothered her instinctive scream. She stared at the oddly graceful dance that was unfolding. Snake stabbing, Luke dodging. The others closing in around them. Snake had the weapon, but Luke was bigger. Stronger. And, oddly, quicker.

The two circled. Feint, feint, stab, dodge. Seconds passed before Amelia remembered.

“Idiot!” she snapped at herself. And lifted her cell phone.

The next thing she knew was an explosion of pain through her wrist. She cried out, unable to stop the sound. The phone clattered on the ground. Her attacker, the one with the gas can, stomped on it with a booted foot.

Luke’s head whipped around at the sound of her cry.

Snake attacked.

Luke went down under the rush, and the two rolled on the asphalt.

My fault, my fault.
The words rang in her head, the power of the guilt shoving aside even the pain of her wrist. Luke could be killed with that wicked knife, and it would be her fault.

And then they were up again. Luke broke free, seemingly unhurt. Snake, however, had a bloody nose. And he was no longer cocky; she could see in his face that he was enraged.

“Watch her!” Snake said to the boy with the can. “We’ll take him!”

Warily, one of the others began to circle Luke. Frantically Amelia looked around for a weapon, anything. There was nothing nearby except for the gas can abandoned when the boy carrying it had seen her try to use the phone.

The two boys answering Snake’s order lunged. Luke ducked. The two collided, one of them going down. Luke let momentum carry the other boy stumbling over him, careening into Snake. They both went down, the one swearing a string of curses as Snake’s blade sliced him. Luke spun around just as a fourth one leaped. He drove a shoulder into the boy’s belly and dropped him breathless to the ground.

Her guardian forgot all about watching her. He started toward the fray.

Stop him, stop him, stop him!

Desperate, Amelia grabbed the gas can and swung it in an arc toward the boy. The handle was slippery with the oily contents, and the pungent liquid sprayed out, drenching him. He staggered back, screaming as he rubbed at his face and eyes.

Snake was up. He came at Luke furiously. The vicious blade glinted. The boy who had merely collided with the other one and wasn’t winded started toward Luke from behind.

Amelia ran toward them. It was as if her body had taken over from her paralyzed mind. It went into the movements so often practiced, the muscles moving in a way they knew well. Her mind seemed to be reacting, recording, rather than initiating.

One. Two. Three. Up. Snap. Kick. Contact.

She wasn’t sure what she connected with. Harder than a stomach, softer than a joint. But it gave.

Leg back. Tuck. Land. Flex. Balance.

She overbalanced and had to catch herself. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking that had begun. By the time she recovered, Luke was beside her. He had Snake’s knife in his hand.

She lifted her head and saw the boy she’d hit disappearing around the corner of the building. The smell of gasoline permeated the air. And they were alone.

She blinked.

“—all right?”

Luke had been talking to her, she realized suddenly. “I…yes.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. She gave herself a mental shake. “You? Are you all right?” When he nodded in turn, she pressed the matter. “Are
you
sure? That knife…”

He lifted the blade and flicked it shut with a quick motion that spoke of familiarity. “Did some damage to my shirt and nicked a knuckle, but that’s about it.”

She looked at his hands, saw the tracing of blood down his right index finger. It didn’t look serious, and he was upright and talking normally, so with relief she accepted his assessment. And with that relief came a sudden weakness in her knees.

She almost fell, but he caught her. He moved until he was leaning against the wall, the yellow light from an outdoor wall sconce spilling over them. She shivered despite the warmth of the summer night. He pulled her against him, and she instinctively snuggled into the warmth of his body.

“Thanks,” he said.

“What?” She was puzzled, but unwilling to part with his warmth even long enough to look up at him.

One of his hands came up to stroke her hair. It felt as good as his warmth. “If you hadn’t taken those guys out, I would have been dead meat.”

“Too slow,” she said with a sigh, knowing it was true, she’d waited a shamefully long time before reacting. Fear, her old nemesis.

“Slow? Man, that flying kick move of yours is really something. You’ll have to teach it to me.”

“I’d rather,” she said frankly “just avoid situations like that one.”

She felt him chuckle before she heard it. “As I recall, you jumped into this one with both feet well before you saved my butt.”

She drew back then, looking up at him. “What else could I do? David was headed for trouble. I had to do something.”

His arm tightened around her. “I’m glad for his sake there’s someone here with the nerve to care that much.”

“Nerve? No.” She lowered her head and finished sadly, “I’m the world’s biggest chicken.”

She felt his arm move, then his finger under her chin, gently lifting her head. There was something in his eyes that warmed her as much as his body heat, but in a very different way.

“You’ve got a very mistaken idea about nerve,” he said.

She shook her head. In the aftermath of a confrontation that had left her feeling utterly drained, she didn’t have the energy to dissemble or deny. “I’m always afraid. Of anything new or the least bit risky.”

“So is that really why you have all those posters up in your office?”

“Maybe I’m hoping some of it will rub off,” she said, knowing how silly it sounded.

“Amelia, Amelia,” he said, shaking his head, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “Any fool who’s too dumb to be afraid can wade into the middle of a fight. That doesn’t take nerve, that’s just stupidity. Now somebody with the sense to be afraid but who tries anyway…that’s courage.”

She wanted to accept his words, but the memory of how she’d stood frozen while he’d been fighting for his life made it hard.

“And that,” he said, “you’ve got. Lots of it.”

He believed it. She could see it in his eyes, in his face. But her own doubts must have shown, because he went on.

“And you do something that takes even more nerve, Amelia. You care. I wish I’d had somebody like you when I was David’s age.”

Moisture brimmed in her eyes at this unexpected declaration. “Luke,” she breathed, unable to say anything more.

“But,” he added, his voice suddenly thick and husky, “I’m glad I’m my age. That way I won’t feel guilty for this.”

He lowered his head and took her mouth, suddenly, fiercely. It was aftershock, she told herself, all the while knowing that what it was didn’t matter, only
that
it was, that
they
were, in this moment, in this place.

She wasn’t shocked this time, but that didn’t lessen the effect of his kiss. It didn’t lessen the heat that shot through her, didn’t lessen the sizzling tingle that raced along every nerve. She was more aware this time, and she liked the hot, male taste of him. So much that she ran her tongue over his lips as he had hers, then probed deeper, over the even ridge of his teeth. He opened for her eagerly, and Amelia savored his groan of pleasure.

When at last he broke the kiss, Luke sagged back against the wall. Amelia could hear his quickened breathing, could feel the hammering of his heart, and this physical proof that she wasn’t alone in this did much to ease her qualms.

It was a long time before the absurdity of it hit her; here they were, the reek of gasoline all around them, having just survived what could have been a deadly altercation, in the middle of downtown, the most public place possible, kissing like a couple of teenagers with no place else to go. It was a miracle that no one had come upon them, not even a police car.

A police car.

“We should call the police,” she said reluctantly.

Luke stiffened. She felt it, and went on in a rush.

“I know you don’t have fond memories of them here, but we should still call them. I mean—” she made a gesture that included both the building and the abandoned gas can “—this could have been arson.”

Luke let out a long, audible breath, and she felt him, if not relax, at least become less tense.

“Look, I know there are good cops out there. Real good ones. Maybe even some here. But David’s headed for real trouble. Criminal trouble. Like you said, this could have been arson.”

“And?” she prompted, sensing that he hadn’t finished.

“And he’s already got a strike against him, simply for being my brother.”

He sounded…not angry, not even upset, but there was that weariness she’d heard before. She wondered if just being here had that effect on him.

“Give me another chance,” Luke said, “to try and turn him around before he winds up, if not in handcuffs, at the least etched permanently in the minds of all the cops around here.”

Amelia hesitated. She didn’t want David in criminal trouble any more than Luke did, but in fact, he already
was.
At least, he was involved in criminal acts; he just hadn’t gotten caught yet.

But she couldn’t deny he was right, she’d seen too much evidence that everyone remembered Luke McGuire chiefly for getting into trouble. And she’d wondered herself if that wasn’t a factor in David’s problems, either him trying to live up—or down—to his brother’s reputation, or everyone expecting him to.

“At least wait until morning. After some sleep, maybe things will be clearer,” Luke urged.

Whether it was what he said, that it was Luke saying it, or the pleading note in his voice, Amelia gave in.

“All right,” she said. “But I at least want to tell somebody about this gasoline, before somebody comes along and tosses a cigarette out and blows up half the block.”

“The fire department,” Luke suggested. Then, with a lopsided grin, “I never pissed any of them off, that I know of.”

“You’re—” She broke off. She’d been about to say “incorrigible” but had suddenly realized it was very close to true, legally speaking. He was lucky his mother hadn’t tried to have him declared so.

Probably would have taken too much of her time,
she thought sourly.

“Let’s get out of here,” Luke said, “and stop breathing these fumes.”

“Yes, please,” she agreed.

She went over to retrieve what was left of her cell phone. She picked it up, then looked at Luke. “In a way, he helped you out. I would have called 911 if he hadn’t hit my wrist and made me drop it.”

“He hit you?” Luke said with a frown. “Hard enough to make you drop it? I thought he’d just scared you.”

“It’s all right.” She held out her right hand, flexing and curling her fingers. “Everything still works.”

He took her hand in his and gently turned it, inspecting the wrist in the yellow light. She knew there was a red mark over the knobby bone below the thumb, but there was no other sign of injury.

“It could still be pretty bruised by tomorrow,” he said. “You should ice it as soon as you can.”

“I’ll do that.”

They headed back up the street toward her car, taking deep breaths of clean, summer-warm air. Amelia stopped at a pay phone to make her call to the fire department. When they at last reached where she’d parked, Luke looked over the low-slung, expensive black coupe.

“Nice,” he said.

“It was my father’s. He bought it just before he died.” She smiled sadly. “I pushed him to it, I’m afraid, trying to nudge him out of his apathy after my mother died. It’s far too extravagant for me, but it seemed too much to start car shopping all over again when I don’t drive that often.”

“So you picked it out for him?”

She shrugged. “I guess you could say that. I tried to pick something racy, that would…energize him or something, I guess. It didn’t work. He only drove it a couple of times.”